When Emery approached Tess's car, she was startled to find Charlie in the driver's seat. The two of them got out the moment they saw her, Tess to run to Emery and give her a hug, and Charlie to just stand near his door and look uncomfortable.

"I've been so worried about you!" Even in her dark clothing, Tess was her usual sparkling self, hair held back with barrettes and little rainbows hanging from her ears. She added in a whisper, "Don't be mad. Charlie knew I was coming to see you and insisted. He cares about you."

Emery knew there was no point in complaining, even though she wished Charlie hadn't come. He'd just add a wrinkle to her already rumpled plan. "Tess, this involves everything that's been going on. Will he be able to handle it?"

Tess shrugged. "We'll find out. I told him weird stuff might happen, but that's all."

"Who the hell is that?"

The girls looked to Charlie, whose gaze went past them, and Emery knew without turning that he'd spotted Cearnach creeping out from behind some trees. Rather than answer Charlie's question, she said, "Pop your trunk."

Not entirely willing, Charlie listened anyway and reached into the car to do as she'd asked. Emery then ordered Cearnach to place the several gardening tools he was carrying inside.

"Can he fit in the back of your car?" Emery asked, slamming the trunk.

The answer was yes, though not comfortably. She knew it without needing to hear it. Emery opened a back door of the sedan and with a wafture of her hand, told the oafish warrior to get in. With all his fear and his giant stature, Cearnach had to practically fold himself in half to fit. Emery could barely close the door, but she managed. Then she walked to Tess, put a hand on her shoulder, and smiled at her, telling her to keep shotgun.

Rounding the front of the car, Emery approached Charlie, unable to quell the nerves she felt drawing near him. He stood there in his dark jeans and tee, curly golden hair, perfectly shaped face with uncertainty in its deep blue eyes. She couldn't help thinking of the last time she'd been with him and felt far more uneasy than she wanted to. She found herself wishing Tess had never told her how Charlie felt about her in the first place; hadn't it been easier when she'd believed nothing could or would ever be possible with him? "I didn't mean to get you involved in this."

Charlie stared at her without revealing his thoughts. Was he angry that she hadn't responded to any of his messages? Was he insulted that she hadn't wanted him to come, tonight? Was he losing any feelings he'd had for her? Was he worried or concerned? Because the one thing Emery definitely didn't want was any more worry or concern. "I think I can handle it," was what he finally said, and Emery's hopes deflated somewhat. She didn't know exactly what she'd been hoping for, but Charlie's response felt distant, maybe sarcastic even. How could she expect more from him, though? She hadn't been particularly communicative, and he'd made himself pretty vulnerable in several of his texts.

Her lips flattening into a fake smile, Emery stepped around him and got into the back of the car, next to Cearnach. It was a good thing she was thin enough--the man took up three quarters of the seat.

"Where to?" Tess chirped, either unaware of or ignoring the coolness between her brother and friend.

"Eden Cemetery."

"What?" Tess spun about. "Are you joking? At night?"

"I'll explain everything along the way. Please, just head over there."

The twins shared a look, and for the first time ever, Emery found herself wondering if they had that capacity that some twins shared, the ESP sort of thing, where they could read one another's thoughts. But Charlie pulled away from the curb and set off, and she did her best to keep it simple as she explained what she and Cearnach had discussed.

Eden Cemetery was a sprawling, mostly-flat graveyard that had been stuffed with tombstones to the point that they were beginning to encroach on the land right next to the freeway. Whenever Emery drove past it, she wondered who in their right mind would want to be buried next to so much traffic, dead or not. And it was the sort of cemetery without rules, it seemed, so the whole place was like a free-for-all as far as size and status; some of the dead had gigantic statues of angels or knights standing watch over their rotting remains, and others had no more than a teensy plaque with their name and death date. There were some of those mausoleums, too, that you could actually open a door and walk into before meeting the corpse inside. There were no lights anywhere nearby, so the entire graveyard was shrouded in absolute darkness. It was the perfect place for anyone needing privacy to build up an army of undead.

They stood at the gates, having parked the car and retrieved the tools from the trunk. Charlie held a huge shovel; Tess (not one for violence) had grudgingly claimed a rake; and Emery grasped a giant pair of gardening shears. Cearnach had his sword, obviously, and some daggers and other random weapons as well. The plan wasn't much of a plan at all: they were going to sit and wait and watch, and if any zombies started to claw their way up from the ground, they'd decapitate them before the monsters could get all the way out. Of course, the plan had about fifty holes in it, not least of which was the fact that none of them knew how many zombies Death could create at one time. If two hundred corpses started to rise from their graves all at once, they'd be hard pressed to chop off enough heads to keep them back. And also, who knew if Death was going to make zombies at all? Cearnach and Emery had pretty much just guessed on that one, and now here Emery was, close to the woods at night, which was exactly where she probably was in the most danger.

It had all seemed to make so much sense at the time; Emery had felt so smart. But now, standing at the gates to the cemetery, she was filled with doubt.

Cearnach, on the other hand, was like a live wire, just electric with anticipation. This was what he lived for, Emery realized--action. Preparation for action. Actual action. Fighting and killing and avenging. So perhaps, whether the whole plan was ridiculous or not, it was what Cearnach needed. Emery couldn't quite envision him just hanging out at her house for days on end. The warrior needed a war. He had a good chance of coming out of this alive. Whether or not she and Tess and Charlie did was another question.

The gates were locked, but one push-and-pull from Cearnach, and they were inside within a minute. Emery didn't know where to go from there, though. If it'd been left up to the warrior, he'd have run wild through the graves until something began to happen, but she suggested instead that they walk slowly through the tombstones and statues, toward the woods, where it was more likely Death might be hovering. They'd brought flashlights, and they had their phones; Emery reminded Tess and Charlie to use them if anything big and dark came their way. But the deeper they moved into the cemetery, the more Emery wondered whether she was doing the right thing. She'd asked Tess along only because her friend had been involved the whole way; she hadn't meant for Charlie to be there, too. And if anything happened to either of them, it'd be her fault.

After about five minutes of walking, Emery told them all to stop. Cearnach was a good thirty feet ahead, and though he took a seat atop a headstone, he grumbled in impatience.

Ignoring him, Emery turned to the other two, holding her phone out for its blue screen light. "This is all wrong," she said. "I need you to both just go home. I--I'm sorry I did this. It all sounded adventurous and fun back when he and I were discussing it, but now that we're here, I realize how stupid this is. And if either of you gets hurt, I wouldn't forgive myself."

Tess and Charlie looked at one another, their features under-lit with the glow from Emery's phone. Then Tess stepped closer to her friend. "We would've come with you whether you asked us to or not. Whatever happens, we're in this with you." She squeezed Emery's arm, then passed by, whispering in her ear "Just talk to him" as she went ahead to meet up with Cearnach.

Emery was left with Charlie, who approached her. What was she supposed to say? But she realized he was going to pass her by as well, and she couldn't let him. "Charlie--" He turned back and looked at her. "I'm . . . I'm sorry."

"It's ok. Like Tess said, we would've come either way."

"No, not for this. For--for not messaging you . . . I didn't know--still don't know--"

"Hey." He came and stood directly across from her, and the blue light made him look like a ghost in the darkness. "I don't know what to say, either. My messages were probably too much; I'd unsend them if I could. I just . . . I didn't want you to think I left you like that. I wanted you to know I . . . I still feel the same way. About you, I mean."

Emery was grateful for his honesty, but she was also unsure how to repay it. She didn't quite know how she felt at the moment, especially with the potency of the potential danger hovering over them. "I knew you didn't leave on purpose," she said, able to tell him at least some of the truth. "There's been a lot of crazy stuff going on, and I don't really know what it all means. I didn't want you to get pulled into it."

It wasn't the sort of response Charlie had probably been hoping for, but he let it be and didn't push. Instead, he put out his hand toward Emery. "Will you at least . . . ?"

The request seemed innocent enough. Who could get upset at her for holding his hand, if for nothing else than comfort in this horribly creepy place? And besides, she wanted to, so she did, and they caught up to Tess and Cearnach and kept on, avoiding vases and wreaths of dead flowers, particularly fresh-looking plots, crumbling headstones, and the larger, uglier of the mausoleums as they walked. Emery relished the feeling of Charlie's hand in hers, warm and strong. A renewed hope built up in her . . . and yet, at the same time, that slight doubt that'd begun to nag at her continued to do so.

At length, after walking for nearly fifteen minutes, the four stopped. They were close enough to the woods to make out their dim, lumpy outline against the horizon, where treeline met starry sky. At least there was a mostly-full moon out, aiding them in their range of sight. They turned off their flashlights and sat in the gloom, Cearnach hopping around and looking at things, Emery next to Charlie atop a long, flat headstone that rose up high enough to sit on, and Tess leaning against a half-crumbled statue of a Celtic cross. Charlie hadn't let go of Emery, and in the dark, he took her hand in both of his and played with her fingers, traced her palm; his touch made her restless, but she couldn't pull away.

"Do you really think anything's going to happen?" asked Tess, avoiding looking at the other two across from her.

Emery sighed, though whether from her own doubts or from Charlie's fingertips, she didn't know. "I kind of hope not."

"You mean like actual zombies?" Charlie put in, laughter in his voice. Neither girl answered him, and he stopped messing with Emery's hand. "Wait, you're not serious, right?" He looked at the girl next to him, then at his sister, their humorless faces shadowy but visible in the moonlight. "You're not joking?"

Emery got up from the tombstone, releasing her hand from Charlie's grasp. "What are you talking about? Do you think I'd drag you out here in the middle of the night just for the hell of it?"

Charlie stared at her in disbelief. "Well, I know that things are weird, but . . . zombies? For real?"

"You literally poofed home in the blink of an eye the other night, but you're having a hard time with the undead?" Emery turned to Tess. "Did you not tell him everything that's been going on?"

"No!" Tess rose as well, stepping toward her friend and brother. "I told you I hadn't. Not really. It's not my story to tell."

"You're both messing with me," insisted Charlie. "There's no way--"

"And I just found Cearnach to help with the joke? You think I just picked him up off the street?"

Charlie faltered. "I . . . I had no clue where you got him. I thought maybe he was some relative--"

A thunderous roar suddenly split the air, causing the three to freeze everything. The sound came and cut off so quickly that the cemetery fell still again within seconds. Tess and Charlie stood on either side of Emery, all facing the direction Cearnach had gone, where the roar had come from.

"Where's your giant?" Charlie whispered, his breath shaking.

Emery pooled her courage and took off running toward the last place she'd seen Cearnach, but before she could get very far, she stumbled and fell to the ground, narrowly avoiding a stone gremlin. She pulled at her foot, which seemed to have caught on a root or some sort of impediment, but it held fast. Emery had just dropped her shears and managed to retrieve her flashlight and switch it on when whatever held her began to wiggle and tighten its grip, and she realized to her horror, as the white ring of light illuminated her ankle, that it was no root but a rotting, black-fingered hand.

The minute she screamed, Charlie and Tess were at her side. Charlie brought his shovel down hard and chopped the claw off at the wrist, after which it scrambled off somewhere beyond the tombstones.

The twins helped Emery to her feet. "Do you believe me, now?" she huffed, not expecting an answer. "Where's Cearnach?"

They hurried toward the area he'd been cavorting, unsure where exactly they'd seen him, but then Tess spotted a rather fresh-looking plot of earth, recently turned, and poked at it with her rake. The minute she did so, a thick hand shot out of the dirt and grabbed the gardening tool, causing all three of them to scream in mortal terror. Emery quickly realized the hand wasn't rotten but fully formed and fleshy and, taking hold of the rake (which Tess had almost dropped), began to pull, losing ground and begging the others to help. Dropping his shovel, Charlie took hold of the rake from behind, and Tess re-gripped it at the front, and together, the three of them played tug-of-war with the ground itself, certain they were going to lose. But whether by sheer will or actual muscle, they managed to draw back enough that Cearnach's upper body began to emerge, and once he'd gained enough traction, he was able to drag the rest of himself out of the earth.

"Holy gods and banshees!" He cried, gulping in deep draughts of air. "It's near impossible to swing a sword down there!"

Emery, Tess, and Charlie were on the ground, too, panting with exertion. None had the wherewithal to question Cearnach's statement. The warrior miraculously got to his feet, his strength rapidly returning to him, and shook the dirt from himself like a dog shaking water off its pelt.

"No time, now," he grunted. "Stay close." Cearnach took off trotting, and the three would've sat there longer had they not noticed little mounds of earth nearby and all around beginning to move, to push out fingers and whole hands from the depths below. They helped one another to their feet, reclaimed whatever weapons they had, and raced after the warrior, remaining as vigilant as possible so as to avoid the shifting earth. When they at last reached Cearnach, he stood outside what had to be the most foreboding mausoleum. It rose in black-veined marble pillars against the sky, a huge iron gate barring its entrance. With little trouble, the warrior pried apart its bars and squealed open its heavy door. Then, ignoring any and all protest, he shoved first Emery, then Tess, and even Charlie inside and resealed the door, outside which he stationed himself.