Chapter Seven: A Grave Situation
The next morning, I woke up to the sound of loud banging. It took me a moment to realize it wasn't in my head but coming from outside the cottage. I stumbled out of bed, bleary-eyed and disoriented, to find Thomas in a state of controlled panic.
"What's going on?" I asked, rubbing my eyes.
"Someone's robbing a grave!" Thomas said, grabbing a shovel. "Come on, we need to catch them in the act."
I grabbed my own shovel and followed Thomas out into the graveyard. Sure enough, there was a figure hunched over a grave, frantically digging. As we got closer, I recognized the perpetrator—it was Bert, the bartender, with dirt smeared all over his face.
"Bert? What the hell are you doing?" I shouted.
Bert looked up, startled, and promptly fell into the hole he had dug. "Oh, hey, Liam. Thomas. Didn't expect to see you so early."
"Didn't expect to see you grave robbing," Thomas said, helping Bert out of the hole. "Care to explain?"
Bert dusted himself off, looking sheepish. "I, uh, lost something important. Thought I might have dropped it here the other night."
"In a grave?" I asked, incredulous. "What did you lose?"
Bert avoided my gaze. "My lucky flask."
Thomas and I exchanged looks. "You buried your flask?" I asked.
"No!" Bert said, a little too quickly. "I was, uh, visiting an old friend's grave, had a bit too much to drink, and must have dropped it."
Thomas sighed. "Bert, you can't just go digging up graves. It's disrespectful and, you know, illegal."
Bert looked genuinely remorseful. "I'm sorry. I'll fill it back in. Just, please, help me find my flask?"
Thomas rolled his eyes but nodded. "Alright, let's find this thing before anyone else sees you."
We all got to work, trying to find Bert's flask without causing too much damage to the grave. After a few minutes of digging, I struck something hard. I pulled it out, expecting to find the flask, but instead, it was an old, rusted key.
"Hey, what's this?" I asked, holding up the key.
Bert's eyes widened. "That's not my flask, but it looks important."
Thomas took the key and examined it. "It's definitely old. Might be connected to one of the crypts."
"Great," I muttered. "More crypt exploration."
Thomas chuckled. "Come on, let's go check it out. And Bert, you're coming with us. No more digging up graves on your own."
We headed towards the crypts, with Bert trailing behind, muttering apologies. As we approached the crypts, we noticed something strange. The door to one of the oldest crypts was slightly ajar.
"Did you leave this open?" I asked Thomas.
He shook his head. "No. Someone's been here."
We cautiously entered the crypt, which smelled of damp earth and mold. The inside was just as we had left it, with the eerie artifacts and the book of dark magic. But something felt off.
"Keep an eye out," Thomas whispered. "Whoever was here might still be around."
We split up, carefully searching the crypt for any signs of intrusion. I was examining a particularly creepy statue when I heard a loud crash behind me. I spun around to see Bert, covered in dust and holding a very familiar flask.
"Found it!" he said, triumphantly.
I sighed. "Great, now can we focus on the mysterious key?"
Thomas joined us, holding the key. "Let's see if this fits anywhere."
We tried the key in various locks around the crypt but had no luck. Just as we were about to give up, Bert noticed a small, hidden compartment in the wall.
"Hey, what about this?" he asked.
Thomas inserted the key, and it clicked open. Inside was a small, ornate box. Thomas carefully opened it, revealing a set of ancient-looking coins and a note.
"What does it say?" I asked, peering over his shoulder.
Thomas read the note aloud. "'To the keeper of secrets, use these coins wisely. They hold the power to summon the guardians of the graveyard.'"
"Guardians?" Bert asked, looking confused.
Thomas shrugged. "I have no idea, but it sounds like we've stumbled onto something important."
"Maybe the guardians can help us with Eleanor's mystery," I suggested.
"Possibly," Thomas said. "But we need to be careful. Summoning ancient guardians isn't something to take lightly."
Bert nodded, clutching his flask. "I'm really sorry for all the trouble. I just wanted my flask back."
Thomas clapped him on the back. "It's alright, Bert. At least you found it. Now let's get out of here before anything else happens."
As we left the crypt, I couldn't help but feel a strange mix of excitement and dread. We had found a key, unlocked a hidden compartment, and discovered coins with the power to summon guardians. What else was hidden in this graveyard?
Back at the cottage, we sat down to discuss our next steps. Bert, now back to his usual self, offered to help in any way he could.
"I may not know much about dark magic," he said, "but I make a mean cup of coffee. And I've got a few stories that might be useful."
"Thanks, Bert," Thomas said, smiling. "We'll need all the help we can get."
As we settled in for another night of research and planning, I couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. Here we were, a mismatched trio—an ordinary guy, a seasoned gravekeeper, and a bartender—trying to uncover ancient secrets and solve a magical mystery.
If nothing else, it was definitely the most interesting job I'd ever had. And who knew? Maybe we'd find more than just the truth about Eleanor. Maybe we'd find some laughter and camaraderie along the way.