The Gravely Journal

Final Conflict

Of the two graver hunters, Domagio was certainly the most likeable, and we were stunned by his sudden and gory death. But if Crim was broken up, he didn't it show much. He stormed up the hill, marching towards the van. Healy and I followed. It didn't seem to matter father could still be up there. We were all just pissed enough, a confrontation would be welcome. The three of us were primed to kick graver butt, and I sort of got an inking for what motivated graver hunters. Right then, right there, the goal was clear. Get him before he gets us.

Catching up to Crim, I asked, "Shouldn't we be heading to my family's crypt?"

Crim spun around just long enough to blurt out, "Don't tell me how to do my job, young lady. Nobody goes into battle empty-handed."

Never one to miss the opportunity to lecture, the Englishman continued, "Did the Duke of Wellington face Napoleon Bonaparte at Waterloo without armaments?" he demanded.

"How should I know?" I answered.

At the top of the hill, we made a left and headed towards the graver mobile. What we saw made us stop in our tracks, standing in awe of the carnage. Much like his work at my apartment, father had torn apart the inside of the van. Just about everything that had been inside the vehicle was thrown out of it. Scads of files, electronics, and personal effects were strewn over the cemetery road. The driver seat was ripped off its floor bolts and tossed down the road where it stood on end. It occurred to me, somewhere along the line, father had developed superhuman strength. Nobody told us gravers could do that type of shit. But there was no running away from our adversary at that point.