The trip back to their motel proved easier than expected. As the army of dead fought those remaining of Madame Laveau's, she and Chris ran from the cemetery. A beautiful one, she should add, full of regal stone crypts and neat pathways. Before they'd ruined it anyway.
They emerged from the destruction to see Isobel's car sitting by the curb. Goshen, the dog she'd forgotten about in the commotion of their capture and escape, sat beside it, looking smug. Keys dangled from his mouth.
"You don't think he. . . " Chris didn't finish the sentence.
"Dogs don't drive." Normal dogs didn't. However, her pet was anything but normal. "We should leave before the cops arrive." Because explaining how and why they were in a cemetery at night with dead bodies - both decayed and fresh - everywhere might b
