Have YOU done any grave-robbing lately?
That's illegal, unless you're Angelica Cross.
When you're a member of the Paranormal Investigative Division of the FBI, grave robbing and corpse desecration is just another Tuesday.
***
They got the coffin open and, thankfully, he just saw Camille, looking for all the world as if she was asleep in her desk chair at the precinct. Angelica handed him the stake and hammer, telling him, “If there’s no reaction when you stake her, then she’s not going to turn. If her eyes open or if blood starts pouring out of her wound, you decapitate her. As I told you before, the stake will pin her down so you shouldn’t have a problem.”
“You say that like it’s so normal and easy.”
She shrugged. “For me, it is.”
He sighed, feeling and hearing his rapid heartbeat. His hands were sweating beneath his gloves and he wished he’d never told his CO about what he’d really seen that night. He wished he were at home right now, drinking copious amounts of hard alcohol while sunk into his favorite easy chair with his ratty old bathrobe on. He wished for a lot of things in the space of two seconds, none of them possible now.
Angelica laid her hand on his shoulder, giving him a little boost. Sighing, he gently moved Camille’s arms from her stomach to her sides and positioned the stake. Angelica had taught him about what stakes worked, and pretty much anything either wooden or silver that had been doused in holy water would suffice, even if it were an old chair leg. These stakes, however, were made of the best ash, with silver tips, stained with holy water and carved with ancient, Germanic runes. If stakes had ranks, these would be The Terminator to Joe Average.
He placed the stake over her heart, seeing everything too clearly — the spot where the sharp point was already cutting into her uniform, the dirt in the coffin hinges, even the shadows under the makeup the undertaker had put on her. Shadows of the dead. He remembered Vincent had had them, too, as had many corpses he came across in Homicide and Major Crimes.
“Should I … say something? A prayer?” he asked Angelica, uncertain.
“Only if it makes you feel better,” she said. “Better off saving your breath until you’ve finished your duties. After that, say all the prayers you want for your friend.”
He sighed, and started reciting the Hail Mary in his mind, if only to distract him and steady his nerves for what he was about to do. He held the stake in place with his left hand and swung the hammer down with all his strength with his right. He felt the crunch of bone and the pressure of the muscles before the stake lodged itself into Camille’s heart.
