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The fence had seemed to appear out of nowhere. Only Lethe’s quick action had prevented an accident.
    “Lethe wouldn’t have let you get hurt.”
    Still trembling, Sarah looked around. “Where are we?”
    “I’ll show you.” Heath slid off Titan and grabbedLethe’s reins. “Here’s a riddle for you, dear Sarah. What brings equality to all men and women, to royalty and beggars, to rich and poor, to old and young, to friends and foes? Can you tell me?”
    Without waiting for him to give her a hand, Sarah dismounted and peered through the solid bars of the low fence. Behind the cold black iron rails lay an ancient cemetery.

7

    S he knew the answer to his riddle but didn’t respond.
    Heath tied their horses to the fence and took Sarah’s hand. “You’re shivering.”
    “I’m okay now.” Her heart had slowed as she settled herself.
    “This is where my ancestors are buried. Let me show you. Nothing here to be frightened of.”
    “I’m not scared,” she said with more bravado than she felt. She didn’t want to wander around burial grounds, yet when they stepped through the gate, her apprehension turned to fascination. She saw great slabs of gray granite, towering monoliths etched with coats of arms, knights brandishing swords, fearsome lions and dreaded gargoyles all frozen in time and guarding the dead. Moss and age had settled on every headstone and monument. Her eyes were drawn to a rearing horse so beautifully chiseled that it looked ready to come to life. “How old is this place?”
    “No need to whisper,” Heath said. “No one here but the dead, and they can’t hear you.”
    Her face went hot. “Was I whispering?”
    He held her hand more tightly. He leaned close to her ear and whispered, “Yes.”
    She looked and saw that he was grinning. “It doesn’t seem respectful to shout,” she said with a haughty sniff.
    As they walked the area, Sarah caught glimpses of names and dates. Hundreds of years were reflected on the old headstones. “Fourteen hundred and fifty-one,” she read off one. “Seventeen hundred and five,” she read off another. “And all of these people were members of your family?”
    “Everyone buried here has a connection to the de Charon name one way or another.”
    “Pretty big family,” she said, looking out over the haphazard collection of grave markers that stretched as far as she could see.
    “We cover the earth,” he said in a conspiratorial whisper.
    She wondered about her history, her family. Somewhere people wanted her to come to them. They told her so every night. She was deep in thought when Heath stopped in front of a large rectangular building. “What’s this?” She inspected the smooth, windowless granite surface, its entrance marked by a massive wooden door.
    “It’s a mausoleum. I’ll show you inside.” Heath produced a key, opened the door and walked into a darkhallway. In minutes, he’d lit a row of candles hanging on the walls.
    Sarah peeked through the open doorway, unsure she wanted to follow him. The place was spooky and gave her the shivers. Smeared by candle smoke, the air smelled musty and was eerily quiet.
    “Come on,” he urged. “No one here but the dead.”
    She wasn’t comforted, but she hesitantly stepped onto the narrow marble floor, between two high walls with small brass nameplates running their length in straight lines. Some of the plates had names on them; others were blank.
    “For future de Charons,” Heath said, coming alongside her and running his fingers over a smooth piece of brass.
    “You too?”
    “Me too,” he said. “And those who come after me.”
    His breath brushed her cheek. A chill shot up her back. In the flickering candlelight, Heath looked otherworldly, ethereal, capable of melting away like icy mist. His skin was the color of the stone, his eyes, translucent. It was as if he’d stepped off the side of the carved fireplace at his estate. How had she ended up in a graveyard with the person who had