Chapter 21 · The Voice in the Coffin

The heart's still beating.

I can hear it from here. The stone box sits in the middle of the empty coffin like someone set a table for dinner and forgot to show up. Drake's leaning against the crypt wall, one hand pressed to his ribs. The silver's eating him from the inside, but he won't say it. Lucas is by the door, crossbow up, eyes on the dark.

"Ella." Drake's voice is rough. "Don't touch it."

Too late. My fingers are already on the lid.

The second I lift it, the heartbeat gets louder. It's not just sound anymore. It's in my chest, my throat, syncing with my pulse like it's trying to pull me under. The thing inside the box is the size of a fist, dark red, slick. Runes carved into the surface, old script I haven't seen since I was a kid. My mother's handwriting.

"What the hell is that?" Lucas says.

"A anchor." The voice comes from behind us.

We all turn.

There's a man standing in the doorway. Old, white collar, black robe. He looks like he walked out of a painting. His face is calm, hands folded. He's not armed. He's not scared either.