“Is still in effect,” Zane promised.
Nodding eagerly, I quickly gathered up my things. “Good,” I said, as we headed for the door. “Because as satisfying as that was…”
I slipped my hand into his, then winked at him.
“I’m still hungry.”
Twenty-Five
SAVANNAH
“And finally, we have the old burying point cemetery,” said Zane. He swept one arm grandly across the shadowy expanse of crooked tombstones, while using the other to keep me close. “It might not be the most haunted, but as far as I’m concerned it’s the creepiest place in all of Salem.”
I huddled against his body for warmth. Even with Zane’s own jacket draped over mine, a cold shiver ran through me.
“Ever seen a ghost here?”
“No,” he admitted. “But I’ve seen people throw up here.”
“Classy.”
“Yeah, big time,” he laughed. “Not from anything I provided them, mind you. But some people bring flasks and drinks and stuff.”
As it was, we’d been sipping the most delicious hot chocolate from a thermos he’d brought with him. It wasn’t spiked with anything, but it kept us warm from the inside throughout the entire tour.
We’d already stopped off for a quick bite, then dipped briefly into my place so I could change out of my bullshit gypsy gear. Zane had even pretended to look the other way as I stripped down, like a perfect gentleman. On my end though, it was all I could do to keep from jumping him right then and there.
In the end I’d let him do his thing. I wanted to see him in action, as he gave me the grand tour. The whole thing was sweet and thoughtful. I was loving every minute of it.
“The hanging judge, Judge William Hawthorne, is buried here,” said Zane.
“The one from the witch trials?”
“Yes!” His eyes sparkled, lighting up with the moonlight. I could tell how much he loved this. How it was still fun and interesting for him, even though he must’ve done it a hundred times.
“Show me.”
Zane tilted his head apprehensively. “Hmmm. I usually let the group scatter and look for the tombstone themselves. It makes finding it a lot more rewarding.”
I looked out across the hallowed, four-hundred year old burial ground. Broken grave-markers stood everywhere, jutting up at odd angles from the ground like rotten teeth.
“I’m not a group,” I pointed out. “And I’m cold. And it’s dark. And—”
“Okay, okay,” he chuckled. “C’mon, it’s right over here.”
I let him lead me to the tombstone, which was equal parts spooky and cool. Everything was all hand-chiseled back then. The craftsmanship was impressive.
“Aged 76 years. Died May 10th, 1717. Wow.”
Above the elaborate scrollwork a carved skull made up the upper part of the tombstone, along with a pair of angel wings. It looked ghastly.
“People sure were morbid back then,” I observed.
“Yeah, you’re not kidding.” He looked back at me, and his eyes lit up with sudden remembrance. “Oh! Before I forget… I have a gift for you.”
“A gift?” Confusion swept over me. “But it’s your birthday.”
“I know, I know.”