The Twisted Dead

THE TWISTED DEAD GRAVEKEEPER BOOK 3 DARCY COATES Copyright © 2023 by Darcy Coates Cover design by Molly von Borstel/Faceout Studios All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. CONTENTS Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Afterword CHAPTER ONE “This probably isn’t good.” Keira, standing outside her burnt cottage, stared at the small, neatly addressed letter she held in both hands. The note had been left for her on her front step, resting against the lightly charred wood of the door, its envelope blank. She turned to look at the scene around her. A low stone fence formed the boundary of the cottage’s front garden. Beyond that, mist flooded the earth. Gravestones rose out of the ground, crooked and cracked and discoloured from age, but they became scarcely more than vague, grey forms as the fog wrapped around them. Keira felt for the muscle inside her head, just behind her eyes, that controlled her second sight. It ached faintly when she pulled on it, but additional shapes came into focus, like she’d lifted a veil. Figures appeared through the fog. They were white and ethereal—not quite real and not quite solid—as though they had been made out of the condensation itself. The only part of them that had any colour were their eyes. Those were pitch-black. Some of the shapes were so clear that Keira could see the creases around their mouths and the dirt under their fingernails. Others were so faint they were barely more than a shimmer. There were dozens of them. They were Blighty Cemetery’s ghosts. That was her gift—if gift was even the right word—to see the dead. She didn’t know where the gift had come from or much else about who she’d been before she arrived in Blighty. She remembered waking in the forest outside of town and being hunted by unknown men, but nothing before. Figuring out who she’d been—and why and how she could see the dead—was turning out to be more complicated than she’d expected. Keira lifted the note for the spectres. “Did anyone see who left this?” she asked, a joking smile twitching over numb lips. As expected, there was no answer. Her ghosts weren’t especially chatty. A few heads turned at her voice, but others strode away, vanishing entirely. “Right. Didn’t think so.” A haze of blue canvas was visible near the forest’s edge. That was her temporary home. Technically Mason owned the tent, but he’d lent it to her while she made her actual home habitable again. She’d woken just at dawn, which meant the note must have been delivered during the night. And they’d been discreet about it. Keira had gotten good at detecting when strangers were entering her domain, even when she was asleep. She looked back down at the message, frowning, then pushed the cottage door open. Her home—the groundskeeper’s cottage lent to her by the town’s kindly pastor—had suffered an arson attempt from a doctor with a grudge. The damage could have been a lot worse, all considered. One of the windows was broken, but Keira had already taped cardboard over it. A healthy layer of soot hung across all surfaces. Some of the floorboards and fixtures were damaged, but the cottage’s walls were made of stone, and they could be restored with some aggressive scrubbing. She’d already made a start on one. A small dark shape flitted past her ankles. Keira glimpsed the swish of a tail and called, “Hey, Daze.” The small black cat sent her a frenzied, wide-eyed glance. She held a dead leaf in her jaws: the mighty hunter returned victorious. Keira barely had time to chuckle before Daisy slipped beneath the bed and vanished into the shadows. Keira opened a can of cat food and served it up for when Daisy grew hungry, then grabbed a handful of biscuits for herself. She chewed her way through them as she stared at the message in her hand. So what am I going to do about this? She needed a second opinion. Keira unplugged her mobile from the kitchen counter. It was an outdated flip model with an abysmal battery and only a few numbers programmed into it, but it worked fine as a lifeline to the outside world. She selected Zoe’s name and pressed to dial. The call was answered on the first ring. “Keira, bestie, light of my life, it is a joy to hear from you this morning.” “Same to you,” Keira said. She was more grateful than she’d expected to be to hear her friend’s voice. “Sorry, I know it’s early.” “Oh, don’t worry about that. I have a new bonsai tree on a strict watering schedule and I had to get up for that. But what’s got you in a chatty mood at such an unmerciful hour?” “Ah.” Keira glanced down at the note. “Someone left a message outside my door this morning. I wanted to get your thoughts on it.” “That sounds like something we should meet over. I’ll see you in a second.” The phone beeped as the call was disconnected. Keira barely had time to frown at the display before the cottage’s door slammed open. She flinched. “He-e-e-y,” Zoe crowed, leaning through the doorway. Early morning light glanced over her cropped black hair and emphasised the mischief in her eyes as she grinned. “Okay.” Keira let herself slump