Harry Dresden (i_wizard) wrote in we_coexist, @ 2011-08-04 22:51:00 |
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Entry tags: | death of the endless, harry dresden |
Working Late [Death]
The cemetery wasn't open after dark. Most aren't, and there's a reason for it. Everybody knows the reason, and nobody talks about it. It isn't because there are dead people in there. It's because there are not-quite-dead people in there. Ghosts and shadows linger in graveyards more than anywhere else. That's why people build walls around graveyards, even if they're only about two feet high - not to keep people out, but to keep other things in. Walls can have a kind of power in the spirit world, and the walls around graveyards are almost always filled with the unspoken intent of keeping the living and the unliving seated at different sections of the community dinner table.
Cemeteries after dark had long since stopped having an effect on Harry. He knew how to defend himself against the things within. But being aware and unafraid could still lead to being stupid and dead, so Harry brought along protection in the form of his two-hundred pound dog, Mouse.
The place was dark, but Harry channeled some will into the pentacle amulet around his neck. It gave off a faint blue glow that was well-suited to the setting. It gave enough light for him to navigate, and read the names on the stones. It wasn't long before he found the one Dinah had asked after. Roland Deschain of Gilead, Son of Steven Below that were two dates that made little sense to Harry. Cameras had never worked long around him, so instead he had brought along a long sheet of paper and a crayon, to do a rubbing. The last line caught his attention; Killed by Lobstrosities. What the hell were lobstrosities?
He could ask around later. With the rubbing, there were a few books Harry had found at the library that he thought would be useful to Dinah. According to the displays, they had once belonged to Jake. The others were copies of a book series called The Dark Tower. Harry recognized the author's name, but not the books themselves. After flipping through the first, he had picked up the lot and taken them along.
He was getting ready to leave when something pale caught his attention. Harry turned to look, and then let out a sigh. He walked to the headstone, his pace slow. Mouse gave no indication that anything was wrong, so Harry released the dog's leash and approached the grave with care.
Unlike the others, this grave stood open. He knew as fact that the people who had ordered it paid for it to be kept this way. The stone was vertical, pure white marble engraved with bold letters that had been filled with gold.
HARRY DRESDEN, the stone read, just above a gold pentacle. Underneath, with room carefully left for dates, was inscribed, HE DIED DOING THE RIGHT THING.
"God, I hope so," Harry murmured to himself. "I really, really do."