The Graveyard Book Reviews Novels & Stories

I carried my kids to the every looking grave, already having second thoughts about bringing my children to a land filled with evil spirits from the disgusting people that no longer walk this earth. Daenerys seemed to have noticed the difference in the atmosphere and quietened as she clung to me. Thankfully I caught sight of Morris just as I stepped into the graveyard. He was sitting in one of the newly dug graves at the entrance of the yard. His eyes remained focused on the newly cemented gravestone, and as I stepped closer, I was able to make out exactly whose it was. Alyssa Lee. When I stopped beside him, he didn’t even look at us. He just stared at her grave. Yet, the emotions in his eyes

The evening began to stretch and soon enough it was 7:00pm. The house , usually silent and cavernous, felt warmer when Mrs. Graves finally arrived. She looked as elegant as ever, her presence a whirlwind of maternal affection and expensive perfume. “My favorite two people!” She exclaimed, pulling Zion and I into a tight, shared hug. She squeezed us so hard I could feel the thrum of Zion’s heart against my shoulder. “Congratulations on the Harvard admission, darlings. I couldn’t be prouder of the two of you.”

Neither man hesitated. The cemetery sat atop a low hill east of Reed Manor. The entire place had been sealed off. Sentinels surrounded the grounds. Several looked pale. One was actively vomiting behind a tree. Savannah understood why the moment she saw the grave. The earth had been dug up. Carefully. Professionally. The wooden coffin sat broken beside the open pit. Empty. Completely empty. Savannah stopped walking. For several seconds she simply stared. Then she climbed into the grave.

“That bastard. I swear when we figure out who he is, I'll have so much fun drilling a hole through his spine.” I rolled back to my desk, heart pounding like a caged beast, and flipped open the encrypted tablet on my desk. The screen flickered to life, displaying the city map with layers of safehouses, tunnel systems, and red zones marked off. I pulled up the feed Jonah—or Marco—had given us. The Graveyard. A location buried under two blocks of condemned territory. A place supposedly wiped out in a fire ten years ago. Too forgotten. Too perfect. I zoomed in.

Audrey's POV So here's a fun fact nobody tells you about having three supernatural boyfriends—or whatever the hell they were: you spend a truly alarming amount of time trying not to die. Also, library research is way less sexy than romance novels make it seem. "This book smells like something died in it," I complained, wrinkling my nose as I flipped through a leather-bound tome that had probably been ancient when my great-great-grandmother was born. "Like, recently died. And then was resurrected just to die again."

“Isabel Norret.” Without stopping to think, I stretched my hand out above the grave. True, a woman had died there, and it was a bad death, in hate and agony. That was a haunted place. That was how graveyards could awaken—when the pain of those who lay in the consecrated soil became too much for the ground to bear. And if the thrall who had consecrated that land cared more about his belly than his debt, everything would happen even faster. And the horror would start. Well, it would be a horror for humans. I didn’t really care.

Anne wished they hadn’t spoken to that batty old man, listening to his riddles and dead-end tales. The later discovery of alternate tales, crude folklore and legends betrayed by a handful of the old or wandering mad reinforced Damon’s suspicions of an ancient grave site, though there was no recorded information of its existence until Damon’s final research paper. There Damon recounted it by name, “The Mourner’s Cradle.”

I'm sure the money we're going to get from your life insurance policy is going to be more than enough to buy formula for our baby! Darkness surged before my eyes. It felt as if the whole world collapsed in that instant. Just as the very last inch of my heart froze, Zachary's doting voice slipped in again, "I get you're happy, but be careful, alright? Don't upset the baby." The last thread holding me upright snapped. I had no strength left to move forward. My body collapsed limply into the snow. Just as my consciousness slipped into the darkness, an anxious voice burst out, "Zachary! Why hasn't Sophie come back yet?!"

looking helpless as he lost the only thing that made him a god: his land. "You look like you're staring at a funeral," Silas rumbled, standing by the window. His silhouette appeared massive against the grey sky. "I am," I whispered. My voice was a dry rasp, like a dead leaf when crushed. "I'm watching the burial of the Crescent Alpha. I just didn't expect the scene to look so... boring, and ordinary…" My cough broke the silence, a deep, racking tremor that made my ribs feel like they were being snapped back one by one. I pressed a tissue to my mouth that quickly soaked in a dark, thick crimson. I didn't panic; that was for people who still had a future.

His voice was ragged, his chest heaving under his soaked shirt. "I’m fine," I lied for the hundredth time. I was definitely not fine. I was shivering so hard my teeth were clicking together, and the heavy satchel of ledgers was banging against my hip, bruising me with every movement. But I wasn't letting go of those books. Not now. The graveyard sat on a small hill, surrounded by a rusted iron fence that looked like jagged teeth against the gray sky. It was a lonely, creepy place even on a sunny day, but in this storm, it felt like the set of a horror movie. We needed to get to the SUV Henry had stashed for us just past the cemetery gates. It was our ticket out of this nightmare.