Page 46 of Death Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

Eve stared at the symbols, and something in her expression shifted. Recognition. Anger.

“I’ve seen work like this,” Eve said quietly.

My skin went colder. “Where?”

Eve’s jaw tightened. “Drathar.”

Drathar. The Egyptian demon. Herald of Blood. The jackal headed nightmare tied to Shezmu, the Lord of Blood. I knew enough about him to know he didn’t show up for fun. He showed up when something wanted to bleed.

“These symbols,” Eve continued, voice low, “the style is similar. The way the cuts are made, the way the lines curve. He likes patterns that look ceremonial. Like worship.”

Faith’s mouth flattened. “So you’re telling me an Egyptian demon is carving graves in Ravenholde?”

Eve’s gaze flicked to Faith, and there was no humor in it. “I’m telling you the magic resembles his influence.”

I swallowed. “Does that mean he’s here?”

Tegan rose slowly, relic in hand, eyes scanning the graveyard. “Or someone’s imitating him.”

“Or someone’s using his work,” Nishi said, voice calm but edged.

I stared at the stones. “If Drathar is involved, why here? Why a small cemetery?”

Eve’s eyes narrowed. “Because it’s quiet. Because it’s old. Because it’s easier to carve and build a pattern without being noticed.”

Faith pointed with her flashlight. “It’s not just one grave.”

She was right. The symbols appeared on several, arranged in a rough arc across the cemetery. Not random placement. A shape.

I stepped back, scanning, trying to see the pattern from ground level. The graves with carvings formed a curve, like a half circle. Like a mouth opening.

My stomach twisted. “It’s a network.”

Tegan nodded, voice tight. “An array. They’re using the graves like anchor points.”

Nishi’s gaze moved across the stones, calculating. “How many?”

The hunter answered. “Eight so far. We haven’t finished the sweep.”

Eight anchor points in a small cemetery. That was not subtle. That was a deliberate choice. Eight was a number that meant something in a lot of systems.

Eve’s fingers brushed her necklace again. “If this is tied to Drathar’s style, it might require blood.”

Faith’s voice went hard. “We already have blood.”

Eve didn’t respond. She didn’t have to.

Tegan crouched again and held her relic near the carvings. The air around it shimmered, like heat haze.

“Something’s resonating,” she said.

I stepped closer, lifting my hand. I didn’t touch the stone. I didn’t want to. Something about the carvings felt like touching a live wire.

I reached with my senses instead.

Cold brushed my mind.

Not the cold of the grave. The cold of a door opening.