Graveminder by Melissa Marr

was kneeling over Maylene, the floor hard under her knees. “I don’t want to be dead.”
    “Me either.” Maylene smiled. Blood ran down a cut by her eye. “But you already are , child.”
    “Why you? Why did I come to you? I couldn’t stop myself from coming,” Daisha whispered.
    “I’m the Graveminder. It’s what I do. The dead come knocking, and I set things right.”
    “Put us back.”
    “Word, drink, and food,” Maylene murmured. “I gave you all three. If you’d been buried here ...”
    Slowly Daisha walked farther into the room. All the while, she watched William. He didn’t seem like a threat, but she wasn’t sure.
    “He doesn’t know what I am ... the other Undertaker. He doesn’t know any of this,” Daisha guessed. She took a step forward.
    William didn’t back up, but the tension in his body said he wanted to. His gaze narrowed. “Leave them out of it.”
    Daisha ran a hand over the back of a chair beside her. “I can’t. You know that, don’t you? Some things aren’t choices.”
    “We can end this before anyone else gets hurt.” William held his hands out to the sides as if to show her he was unarmed. “You don’t want to hurt people, do you? You will if you don’t come away with me. You know that.”
    “I’m not bad,” Daisha whispered.
    “I believe you.” He held out a hand to her. He curled his fingers toward him in a beckoning gesture. “You can do the right thing here. Just come with me. We’ll go meet some people who can help us.”
    “ Her. The new Graveminder . ”
    “No, not her. You and I can fix this all on our own.” He took another step forward, hand outstretched. “Maylene gave you food and drink, didn’t she?”
    Suspiciously Daisha said, “Yeah, but not enough. I’m so hungry.”
    “Do you need me fix you something?” William’s breathing was ragged. “Would that help?”
    Without meaning to, Daisha took his hand and pulled him to her. He was so close; it wasn’t as if she’d even meant to move, but she had. She was shaking her head. He trembled. Like Maylene did. Daisha sank her teeth into his wrist, and he made a sound, a hurt animal noise.
    He pulled something out of his pocket and tried to stick it in her arm. A needle. He’d offered her hope, but he was trying to hurt her. Poison. She pushed him away. “That wasn’t nice.”
    He clutched his bleeding arm to his chest. Little red drops fell to the floor; more sank into his shirt.
    “Let me help,” he said. He reached for the needle, which had fallen from his hand. “Please, child. Let me help.”
    Daisha couldn’t stop looking at his wrist. The skin was torn. “I did that,” she whispered.
    “We can make it okay.” He picked up the needle. His face was pale, and he dropped to the floor so that he was half kneeling, half sitting in front of her. Despite his obvious pain, he reached out to grab her wrist. “Please. I can ... help you.”
    “No.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Her mind felt clearer now. Everything made more sense when she wasn’t so hungry. “I don’t think I want the help you have.”
    He cradled his bloody arm and tried to stand. “This isn’t right. You aren’t right. You aren’t supposed to be here.”
    “But I am .” Daisha shoved him down. She was still hungry, but she was more afraid of him than she was hungry. He doesn’t understand. Afraid meant falling apart. She didn’t like that. She wasn’t going to let that happen. Daisha might not have chosen to be dead—or to be awake after dying—but she could make a few choices now.
    Quietly Daisha left the room and closed the door behind her.
    William didn’t follow.
    She thought about visiting the woman who was humming in her office, but staying here seemed unwise. William might not be strong enough to stop her, but he knew things and people who might be able to hurt her.
    Daisha slipped out the door.
    Someone else would feed her, someone who didn’t make her afraid. She’d find