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Albertine’s words hung in the air like the breath of nightshade. Jake considered them as he looked at the shovel and beyond to a patch of more level ground higher on the bank.
“That’s crazy,” Naomi said. “Why would he dig his own grave?”
Albertine shrugged. “It’s a choice. We can have some dinner, enjoy the peace. You can sleep here and go in the morning.” She looked at Jake. “Without the relic. Or you can endure the ritual and – if you survive – leave with the finger bone.”
Jake stood up. The timbers of the deck creaked as he walked to the shovel, hefted its weight in his hand.
He walked up the bank and began to dig. The ground had been softened by rain, and as Jake thrust the blade into the fertile earth, he cut through worms in the dirt, slicing them into pieces, leaving their w
