The Power and the Glory

Book 3 Chapter XIV: Skeletons in the Closet

You don't have to test everything to destruction just to see if you made it right. -- Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, Good Omens

The constable came huffing and puffing over to the shrine. "What is it now?" His eyes bugged out. "Gods! What are they all doing in here?"

Kitri was about to answer when she spotted movement out of the corner of her eye. Her head snapped round. She stared very hard at the pile of skeletons. None of them moved so much as a finger. Their empty eye-sockets all seemed to be looking directly at her. Their bare teeth made it look like they were grinning malevolently.

"I think the grave-robber left them here to collect later," she said. That explanation was unsatisfactory, but it was less insane that her suspicion the skeletons had moved themselves here. Again she thought she saw movement. "Quickly, help me put them back in their graves."

The constable blinked and scratched his head. "But, ma'am, why bother? They're doing no harm here. We can send for a team to move them in the morning."

A faint rustling noise came from a corner of the shrine. The sun's last rays were already fading from the sky. Was the wind normally so cold? Kitri suppressed a shudder. In the vanishing light she could see just enough to make out the candles placed on small shelves around the shrine. Those were supposed to be lit only during funerals. The priestesses of Lashkó lit them to represent the deceased person's life then extinguished them to represent their death. No one else was allowed to touch them.

There were no priestesses around to object, and it was too dark to stay here without any light. Kitri reached for the nearest shelf. She fumbled for the matchbox.

What was that noise? It couldn't be the constable. He was still behind her, grumbling about how cold his hands were. She heard the faintest scrape of something moving on the stone floor.

Why won't the match light?

In the dark and cold it was hard to strike it against the matchbox. Finally she succeed. The tiny flame gave barely any light yet it seemed to make the night even darker. Kitri held it against the candle's wick. For a chilling moment the candle refused to light. At last the flame caught. It filled the shrine with a faint but warm light that almost drove away Kitri's fears.

Then she saw what the light revealed and her fears came rushing back tenfold.

The skeletons were moving.

All of them recoiled from the candle-light, shrinking deeper and deeper into the shrine. They crowded in the shadows around the altar. Kitri remembered the skeletons Abi had raised. None of them had acted like this. They'd been brainless but harmless, and the light hadn't bothered any of them.

"Did you see that?" The constable's voice was a high-pitched squeak. "Did you see? They're moving!"

"I see it," Kitri said grimly. She raised her shovel. "See that statue there?" The statue was a small moveable carving of Lashkó, goddess of death, with all seven of her faces. "Pick it up and help me destroy these things."

She lit the other candles around the door. The light made the skeletons try to shrink back further. Unfortunately for them there was nowhere left for them to go. They made an attempt to skitter out of the way as Kitri brought the shovel crashing down. Not all of them were lucky enough to evade her. The shovel smashed through four skulls. Those skeletons immediately collapsed motionless on the floor.

"Destroy their skulls," Kitri ordered. She raised the shovel for another strike.

The constable was having some difficulty picking up the statue. He cursed under his breath as he struggled with it. By the time he got it moved, Kitri had already killed -- well, as much as these things could be killed -- another twelve of the skeletons.