Nobody else had seen Mr. Moss move; it was evident in the way chatter around them continued uninterrupted. But for Zane and Garrett, Mr. Moss had lain himself back down in his coffin and resumed his usual rigidity before their eyes with no one else the wiser.
“There must be something in this book that’s really important,” Zane whispered. “What could old Mr. Moss want with my sister, though?” At that, Garrett simply rested a hand on Zane’s shoulder. There was no satisfying answer.
Dread had begun to pool in the pit of Zane’s stomach. What was it about Emma that connected back to Stilgarth Manor? If the Gravemother was simply looking for her next victim, why Emma? And what did Moss have to do with it?
They retreated from the wake soon after that, hiding away in Garrett’s room so they could look through the journal’s contents.
“Was that Mr. Moss’s ghost telling us to read his ancestor’s journal? Or was that whole thing a parlor trick from the Gravemother?” Garrett asked.
They stared at each other. Zane hadn’t even considered the possibility that the Gravemother was acting through Moss, and that chilled him to the bone. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “Let’s go through the pages and see if anything stands out.”
It was a lot more boring than he thought it would be, though, and he couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Zane supposed that life in the 1700s wasn’t all that interesting to begin with, because most of what Alberic Moss wrote about was of the current condition of his cows, which he seemed to prize highly.
“How can anyone spend thirty pages writing about nothing but manure?” Garrett moaned. He’d given up early and was now sprawled on his bed, playing a game on his PS4 to “take my mind off all the poop.”
“I guess a lot of people back in the day used to be farmers around here.” Zane glanced through a list of calculations that seemed to show how much money Alberic Moss was able to make from selling his cows’ milk at the market. “But hey, it’s not like we don’t have anything to show for it. We’ve managed to get a lot of information.”
Alberic Moss had talked a lot about cows, but he had also made a lot of observations about the residents of Solitude, including the Traithes. Zane glanced down at the notepad where he’d scribbled everything he’d found important, all under three numbered categories:
1. Harrison and Ginevra Traithe didn’t have biological children of their own. Ginevra was a volunteer at the local orphanage, where the missing kids were housed. Ginevra is quite Close to them, Alberic had written with excessive caps usage. I asked her once how Ned and John were, and she got rather irate and said that Ned didn’t like being called Ned and that People should Consider his feelings more. I did not think to offend over such a simple Questione, but she seems quite Protective of the Boys.
2. Harrison Traithe was one of the original founders of Solitude and its mayor at the time. Moss had commented on how the man had mediated between two people contesting shared land despite the town having its own local magistrate, and how the townspeople still saw him as the real power.
3. Ginevra Traithe had been out visiting an ailing sister the next town over when the two children went missing.
The last point felt especially significant. Alberic Moss had felt obliged to go into detail about his own theories involving the disappearances.
Ginevra has always been a Warm and Vivecious young woman, and not who one would expect to willfully harm another, so gentle her Soul is, Moss had written in his spidery handwriting with its slightly archaic spelling and punctuation. It is with stunned bemusement that I perceive others so quick to turn agenst her when they had long been recipients of her Goodwill and Kindness. I know myself that it is not Posible. Exempting my Personal regard for her that encourages such bias, Ginevra had been visiting Elizabeth Traithe at Goldsfend when Timothy and John were reported missing. Felicity’s brother, who had come to visit, swore to seeing Ginevra there before he left. It could be Said that she had a willing accomplice, but Even then, it strikes me as unlikely. What reason would she to hurt those boys? Ever had she been Fond of them.
That Alberic Moss vouched for Ginevra Traithe’s character was not proof of her innocence, but an alibi did work in her favor. Zane said as much to Garrett, who grunted, eyes still trained on the screen. “But if she isn’t guilty, then why would she be the one haunting the town?” Zane pointed out. “Wouldn’t we see the ghost of the actual murderer?”
“There’s no rule that says only guilty people get to be ghosts,” Garrett said. “Bridget always says that it’s the ones who felt the most intense emotion when they died who are more likely to become spirits.”
“Bridget?”
“From Obscura Adventures? Oh, right, I remember that you don’t watch that stuff.”
“If you’re friends with famous ghost hunters, then why don’t you ask them for help?”
“Hey, you’re the one who wanted the journal. Why let someone else have all the fun looking through entries about cows and horses and who got run over by a wagon this week?” Garrett tore his gaze away from the screen to grin at him. “I did email her, though. She has a couple of gigs that need wrapping up, but she’s very keen on heading back to Solitude and Stilgarth. Said that she wanted us along, too.”
“I don’t really want my first TV appearance to be on a ghost reality show.”
“She promised that her crew won’t film either of us unless she has our say-so. I was pretty clear that they can’t show our faces on camera, and she’s already agreed. Plus we’d have to sign a bunch of agreements before she can, anyway. Our parents would, too. That’s what I had to do the last time.”
Zane fell silent. He was quiet for so long that Garrett finally paused his game so he could focus on him. “Hey, what’s wrong? Look, if you don’t want to be there, then you don’t have to. She’s not gonna force you.”
“No,” Zane said. “It’s just . . . interesting that you knew I didn’t want to be on camera. That you’d already told her they’d need permission before I’d even said so. You didn’t need to be so considerate and it’s not—I mean, it’s not like we’re close. We’re only in this together because of the Gravemother. I’m not saying this right,” he added hastily before Garrett could respond. “I just wanted to say thank you for looking out for me like that.”
“Ah,” Garrett said, and he looked embarrassed. “Yeah. Just wanted to make sure, you know? TV people tend to be pretty strict, and they wanna make sure to cover their asses, too, so I figured I should be proactive. I’d do it for anyone; it’s not like we have to be friends for me to do the right thing.”
Zane frowned. “Look, I—”
The knock on the door made him pause. “Are you boys busy?” Mrs. Sevilla sang cheerfully from the other side. “I brought some snacks!”
“Come in, Mom,” Garrett called out, and his mother bustled in with a tray of cake slices and chocolate milk.
“One of the clerks had a birthday today,” she said, “and we thought to celebrate. And this is also a thank-you for all the hard work you both put in today. Especially you, Zane. You’re a natural at this.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Sevilla,” Zane mumbled awkwardly. “Just glad I could help.”
“Shouldn’t you be doing more homework?” Mrs. Sevilla said with a raised eyebrow at Garrett, who was still holding his PS4 controller in one hand. “Or are you just taking a break?”
“Yes, Mom,” Garrett said with a flush, hurrying to turn the console off.
But his mother’s sharp eyes had already focused on the bed. “Is that Mr. Moss’s journal? Linda told me that she had lent it to you—something about Zane’s father’s plans to start a museum, I think? You need to be careful, Garrett. It seems to me it’s a lot more valuable than she lets on, and I don’t think we can afford to pay for its repair if it gets damaged.”
Zane groaned inwardly. Garrett had been right about gossip getting around quickly. “Dad’s still deciding about the museum. Nothing’s been finalized yet.” Zane hoped he’d have a chance to suggest the plan to his dad before he learned about the white lie Zane had told Mrs. Fernhilde.
“I spoke with Mr. Moss a time or two. Talking about the town always made him so happy. He’d be pleased to learn you two are taking such a shine to its past.”
“We’ve been trying to learn a little bit more about Ginevra Traithe,” Garrett admitted.
“I can imagine why you’d be so interested! And it’s such a sad tale, too, though I suppose it must feel strange to be related to not just the Gravemother but also to Harrison Traithe. If you’d like more cake, we have plenty downstairs, so feel free to help yourselves.”
“Mom always makes the best cake,” Garrett said happily as his mother left. “She made chocolate mousse for me on my birthday once—what’s wrong? Don’t tell me you don’t like chocolate.”
“I didn’t think about that,” Zane said quietly. “What she said, I mean—whether Ginevra or Harrison was responsible for the missing kids, that just means I’m descended from a murderer, right? I already knew about that going into this, but . . .”
“The chances of everyone being related to a murderer is pretty high,” Garrett said. “American history isn’t exactly peaceful, you know?”
“Yeah, but this feels personal in a way I don’t like. Is that why the Gravemother chose me? Because there’s something about me—some ugly quality—that makes her remember herself, or Harrison Traithe if he really is guilty?”
“I’m related to a despicable person,” Garrett remarked.
Zane blinked at him. The other boy shifted awkwardly from his position on the floor.
“I said before that I wanted to bring some good karma my family’s way,” he said, “and I have a reason for that. One of my ancestors was one of Ginevra’s main accusers, Samuel Jordan. He was the reason Ginevra first came under suspicion. He was the one who convinced people that she was involved somehow. And he was Harrison Traithe’s business partner. So if Ginevra really is innocent of everything and Harrison’s guilty, then there’s a chance that he could have helped Harrison cover up his crimes, or even been an accomplice to it.”
“There’s no proof of that.”
“Yeah, but even if he helped Harrison Traithe, being related to him doesn’t change who I am. And it shouldn’t change who you are, either.”
“Why tell me this? I doubt it’s something you’d even want other people to know.”
Garrett shrugged. “You looked a bit down about being related to the Traithes. Just wanted to show you that it’s not important.”
“I . . . don’t know what to say. Thanks.”
Garrett snorted and took another bite of cake. “Don’t get all mushy on me, city boy. You can thank me by figuring out what the Gravemother wanted us to know in Alberic Moss’s journal.”
“I think I just did,” Zane said slowly, staring down at the last page of the journal.
There was only one entry there.
She left town. It’s not looking good for her, now that Ned’s gone as well. It’s only a matter of time before they find her.
And Chapman was so sure it was Harrison himself responsible for the Disappearences. Traithe had made no secret how much he disliked the Boys—reminded him of his inability to Sire children with Ginevra. Even so, only Chapman was brave enough to Hurl those accusetions to his face. But Traithe wields far too much influence and a volatile temperament, and Likely the Charges would not see the light of day.
Harrison’s alibi is Sound. He was playing Cards with Barnaby and Francis when the third boy was reported gone and last seen in Ginevra’s company. And now Ginevra’s fled herself.
I don’t believe her capable of Such things, and yet . . .
The journal ended there.
“Harrison might not have been responsible for the last boy’s disappearance, then,” Garrett said. “We might have to acknowledge the fact that the Gravemother was guilty of some of what she’s been accused of—and that she’s haunting Stilgarth as the site of her crime.”
“And homing in on her next victim,” Zane said, putting into words what Garrett clearly hadn’t wanted to voice. “Emmy.”