Chapter Seven
By the time Dorian and Cole made it back to Ravenswood, the rain had soaked the grounds, making for slippery, messy work that left Dorian wet, cold, and thoroughly grouchy. It wasn’t helping his injuries either—the wolf bites still burned, his healing slowed by the damp chill.
Fortunately, the weather didn’t darken Cole’s enthusiasm, and it wasn’t long before he and Dorian were standing shoulders-deep in a soggy pit several hundred feet behind the manor, rotting planks creaking beneath their feet.
Coffins.
“Jackpot.” Cole set aside the shovel and reached for his cigarettes, tapping one out of the pack. “Now, you mind telling me who’s in there? I prefer knowing a little something about a man before getting up close and personal with his rotting corpse.”
Dorian speared a c
