CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Rachel walked and walked in the black of night, beneath the light of the full moon, through the swamps of Louisiana. All around her, animals screeched out into the night, their cries punctuating the moonlight air. She was terrified. Her legs were aching, her feet were tired from all the walking. She had been marching for hours—it felt like days—ever since she’d left her grandma’s house, on this desperate mission to find the graveyard and mausoleum of her ancestors.
Rachel’s grandmother had told her the graveyard was well-hidden, had given her an ancient map to its location, and she had been following it, rolled up in this old scroll, trying to find her way through the unmarked back swamps of Louisiana.
But now, she was exhausted. There was no sign of a cemetery anywhere
