“Are there any rules about grims that say the thing buried must be newly dead?” he asked.
“I do not know.” She met his gaze, hope shining in her eyes. “Itispossible the vole can serve this purpose.”
“It is worth trying,” he said. “It is worth seeing if Granny Winter knew of our plight in such detail.”
He turned his attention to the Lady Grim. “We are going to try to free you,” he said. “If we succeed, will you allow us passage to the gargoyle?”
She dipped her head in agreement. This was their chance, then.
In a bit of dirt under a nearby tree, Duncan began to dig. He’d no implements, only his fingers. He clawed at the softdirt. Sorcha soon joined him. They didn’t dig a large hole, nor a deep one. Simply enough to bury the animal sent with him.
As they dug, the wind picked up and swirled the tree branches. The smell of rain filled the air. He glanced at the Lady Grim as he continued his effort. Her hair and dress whipped with greater vigor, greater motion. She, he did not doubt, was creating this storm, but whether out of excitement or nervousness, he couldn’t say.
At last, the hole was of sufficient size. He placed the vole in it, and he and Sorcha pushed the dirt back in to cover its resting place. They packed it down, making certain the remains were hidden, held fast, and safe. Sorcha placed a rock at the grave site, allowing it to act as a headstone.
They both stood and stepped back, looking from the tiny, makeshift grave to the Lady Grim. Was it enough? Would it work?
Lightning once more cracked, sending flashes of light across the sky. It disappeared quickly and with it the guardian of the graveyard. She’d come without a word, left without a warning. In the next instant, the sky opened, and rain began to fall.
Duncan and Sorcha rushed across the churchyard, crossing as quickly as they could over the rough, unkempt land, directly to the corner of the church where the gargoyle stood sentinel.
All that remained in Duncan’s bag was the bottle. He pulled it out, realizing what its purpose was. In it, they would collect the water that would save Donella’s life. He pulled off the stopper and held the vessel directly beneath the grotesque stone face. As rain filled the gutters of the church, water began to pour over the teeth and snarledlips of the carving. It splashed off Duncan’s hands, off the sides of the vessel, soaking him and Sorcha but also filling the vessel.
Once the water reached the very brim, he plunged the stopper in place once more, then returned it to his bag and pulled the bag onto his back. He hoped it would be enough to heal young Donella.
He and Sorcha huddled beneath the archway of what had once likely held the church doors. It offered minimal protection from the elements, but it was enough. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her to him as the rain fell.
“We’ve managed it,” he said. “We’ve managed it together.”
“We still need to return home safely,” Sorcha said. “I shudder to think what awaits us on that journey. And we’ve only two days remaining. I’m not certain it can be done.”
From behind them, in the ruined remains of the church, he heard voices. They both turned, keeping hold of one another.
The church was filled with ghostly apparitions, people dressed in clothing of eras gone by, reaching back centuries. At the front of the chapel, in the chancel near the altar, was the Lady Grim, though now she wore a crown of ghostly flowers and held a matching bouquet. A man clothed in the garb of the same era as she gazed lovingly at her face.
Hers was the appearance of a bride, and the man was, no doubt, the one she would have married had she lived.
The ghostly bride gave her faded bouquet to a womanstanding near her. She set her hands in her groom’s. A ghost in priestly raiment stood before them.
“Their wedding,” Sorcha whispered. “How long they must have waited for this day!”
Duncan pulled her closer. “It’s a sight that could melt the heart of even a resolute bachelor like myself.”
From within his arms, she asked, “Are you resolutely a bachelor or a bachelor who happens to be a resolute sort of person?”
“Bachelorhood has, of late, lost its appeal.”
At the front of the church, the ceremony reached its joyous conclusion. The husband and wife embraced to the silent cheers of generations of their families. The sight, indeed, touched the heart.
With her groom’s arm tenderly around her, the Lady Grim smiled at Duncan and Sorcha, then motioned back in the direction of the churchyard.
They looked that way. A bright doorway of light appeared. It emanated warmth and a sense of safety. Duncan could not express exactly why he felt secure in doing so, but he knew they needed to step through this bright passageway.
“I suspect that is a doorway home,” Sorcha said. “They are offering us a safe return.”
She felt as he did. That was reassurance enough.
Hand in hand, they moved from beneath the stone arch to the doorway of light and stepped through.