17 Cemetery Hill

"It's not enough that we're being chased through a cemetery on Halloween," Lottica lamented when the sprinkling rain became a steady downpour.

Ten minutes after climbing the fence and escaping from the caped men, the soaked siblings had worked their way to the crest of Cemetery Hill. The top of the hill was wooded and studded with old tombs and mausoleums, so it was difficult getting oriented and figuring out which direction would get them back to their grandparents' house.

They'd started the evening running way from their grandparents. Now they were desperate to get back to them.

Nick, a few steps ahead, led Lottica through a small grove of chestnut trees, their spiky shell casings littering the ground. Suddenly, Lottica dashed past him.

"Lottica, where are you going?" he shouted after her quickly receding figure. But she kept moving through the chestnut trees with Nick slogging after her in the heavy rain.

When he came out of the chestnut grove, he stopped and scanned the area. Lottica was nowhere in sight. To his left, teeth-like rows of tombstones receded down the gentle slope. To his right, a cluster of mausoleums terraced into the hillside. A sudden familiarity hit Nick. He knew this place.

He made his way between the looming structures and came at last to a mausoleum set back on a small promontory with a single chestnut tree. The rain had increased and with it the gloominess. Nick knew what he'd find under the small portico-like entrance where the name Breima was carved deeply into the stone.

"Lottica," he softly called as he faced the entrance.

From the nearly pitch black shadows, Lottica scolded him, "Come in out of the rain, Nick."

He found Lottica huddled up against the door where it was relatively dry. Nick joined her. "How cozy," he said, intending to be sarcastic, but it came out mildly.

"Do you have the other pillowcase?" Lottica asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"There should be a flashlight in it. Remember, we're reasonable and responsible children," she recited. "Safety first, you know."

Nick was reassured by Lottica's composure. Only minutes before, she'd been a freaked out twelve-year-old, and now she was talking like a veteran Girl Scout. He dug into the pillowcase and found the slender flashlight. "I hope it works," he said, pushing the button. The light flitted on and then flickered off. He shook it and the bulb came back on. The beam was pale, not the bright white that indicated new batteries.

It was enough, though, for them to see how wretched they looked. Nick's face was splattered with mud and his cloak-like costume was plastered to his thin frame. Lottica's long hair was stringy and matted with small yellow leaves. Mud streaked her Headless Horseman's skeleton costume, and her poor hands, clutched together at her chest, looked so red and raw they appeared to be glowing.

"What's up with your hands?" Nick asked in surprise.

Lottica slowly opened them. And much brighter than the wan flashlight beam, the radiance of the Kareima lit the entryway.

"It's glowing red instead of blue. Is it hot?" Nick asked, remembering how the gemstone had seemed to be burning a hole in his pocket when he'd smuggled it to their grandparents' house.

"No," Lottica said. "Hold it. It feels good."

Hesitantly, Nick took the glowing ember. She was right. It was just warm. It also made him feel relaxed and strangely confident, in spite of the fact that the rainstorm was worsening, and they had two crazy caped men pursuing them. He eyed the door into their parents' mausoleum. "Should we go in?"

"Won't it be locked?" Lottica asked.

"I don't know," Nick replied, handing the Kareima back to her and turning the flashlight on the arched metal door. "The door was always unlocked when we were here before." He found the door latch with the flashlight, and there was no lock on it. He wasn't certain if that was unusual.

He lifted the latch and looked at his sister. "You sure?"

"Yes. This may be goodbye for a long time."

"Okay." He pulled on the door and it swung open with a metallic moan. "After you," Nick offered.

Without hesitating, Lottica entered the chamber where her parents' bodies had been entombed for three months. It should have felt monumentally creepy entering this cramped, damp, cold, dark tomb on Halloween night. Though at that instant, for Lottica, it seemed as if she'd finally come home.