4. Mercy #2
“Hold on,” Sam interjects, holding his hands up.
“Why don’t you just go to the police? You can’t play their game.
The odds are stacked against you.” Counting off on his fingers, he lists all the reasons why the game is rigged.
“They could lie about who they are. They could try to kill you before the deadline. Reaper’s like a ghost, Mercy; he’s in and out of the frat houses whenever he pleases, there one second and gone the next.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve walked in on him dicking someone down, then as soon as they’re finished, he disappears.
” Sam crinkles his nose in disgust. “But anytime I’ve asked around—because he’s broken more than one virgin’s heart—I don’t get any answers.
” He sighs and rubs his forehead. “The game is rigged. They want you to lose.”
I seal my lips tightly together. “I’m aware.”
“Then why play at all?” A muscle in his jaw tics. “We should go to the police. Let them handle it, Mercy.”
Instead of following that line of thinking, I backtrack. “What do you know about Zane?”
Sam chokes on his water. “ Please let this go.”
Interesting.
“Why are you avoiding the question?”
Our pizza arrives, but neither of us looks away from the other. Our server refills our drinks and retreats quickly, sensing the tension in the air.
“There are some things within Greek life that you should stay out of,” Sam says, choosing his words carefully.
His gaze flicks over my shoulder for a moment before returning to me.
We aren’t exactly in a private venue, so people are going to see us together.
If he spills sacred fraternity secrets, there could be consequences.
I nudge his knee beneath the table, and he reaches under to keep me still. Grabbing my thigh over my knee, he squeezes, his fingertips slipping through the holes of my fishnets. His Adam’s apple bobs on a swallow. “You’re playing with fire.”
“I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.” A sharp pain tears through my heart, and I have to look away from Sam’s piercing stare. “Isn’t my life worth something?” My voice trembles, and I take a sip of water to cover.
Sam sees right through me, like he always does.
“Hey,” he breathes, gently brushing his hand across my knee.
“Of course it is. You know I didn’t mean it like that.
” Part of grief counseling is coming to terms with your inner demons, and Sam had a front row seat when I first met mine.
Depression is one fucked-up bitch. “Let’s eat, okay?
We can talk about this later.” His gaze shifts behind me again, and he pulls his hand back.
“What’s wrong?” I glance at the plexiglass panel behind his head, but it’s not reflective enough for me to see what’s behind me.
“It’s nothing.” He splits the pizza in half and slides three huge slices onto his plate.
“Don’t let the pizza get cold.” He turns the conversation to our families, classes, and plans after graduation.
We’ve had these conversations before, so the familiarity is comforting, if not a little boring.
It’s been a while since I’ve had a conversation that didn’t involve reading the latest obituaries in the newspaper and divining which family will contact us for funerary support. I’m a bit out of practice.
After paying and boxing up leftovers, Sam dabs up a few guys at another table on our way out the door. Only once we’re safely down the block does he relax.
“Tough crowd, huh?” I nudge his shoulder with my elbow. “Remind me why you pledged?”
“Legacy,” he murmurs, nudging me back. “You know how family shit goes.” We walk another half a block before he glances at me from the corner of his eye. “Has your dad asked yet?”
I exhale slowly. “Not since the last time.” It’s no secret that my father is trying to convince my older sister Lilith and me to take over the family business, but I have no interest in soothing the bereaved. “I think he’s waiting until Christmas to bring it up again.”
“Naturally.” Sam chuckles softly. “Gotta have you and Lilith in the same room for that talk.”
“Grandma Star is in on it this time.”
“Oh, yeah?”
I nod. “She says someone needs to keep the dead company after she’s gone. I think she’s still waiting for me to inherit the gift. ” I say the last part with air quotes. “After two decades, I think that ship’s sailed. Her best bet is to wait for a grandkid to arrive.”
Not that I’m having kids anytime soon. Even Lilith, at nearly thirty years old, hasn’t shown any signs of settling down. “I think Grandma’s upset that times have changed.”
No one visits the cemetery to pay respects to their ancestors, and most of Grandma Star’s clients have passed away. Spiritualism isn’t as popular as it once was. Newer generations would rather consult an EMF reader than seek out a medium.
I take a deep breath and frown at the cracked sidewalk. None of this solves my problem. If I had the gift , I’d march right back to that grave site, dig up the body of that poor soul Reaper and Zane killed, and get him to spill their secrets.
Reaper’s voice suddenly rasps in my ear like a bad dream, and I spin around to find empty air behind me. Grabbing Sam’s arm, I stare wide-eyed at the empty space. “Did you say something?”
Sam’s forehead crinkles as he looks between me and the empty concrete behind us. “Um, no?”
“I heard a voice just now.” I clutch Sam’s arm so tightly that he bends at the waist to accommodate our height difference.
“Is there anyone missing from your frat? From any of them?” My brain fires rapidly, jumping from one idea to the next.
Reaper used a name last night when he talked about the dead body.
We were standing in a grave. A marked grave—with a family name engraved on its headstone.
“I need to go back to the cemetery,” I blurt out, dragging Sam across the street. The grounds aren’t too far from here. Maybe a few blocks. Thirty minutes tops if we speed walk.
“Whoa, there. We can’t walk. It’s getting dark out.
” Sam pulls me to a stop and plants both hands on my shoulders.
“My car’s parked off of Jefferson. Let me drive you.
” He steers me a few streets down to the public lot where his truck is parked.
Gravel crunches under our tires as he pulls out onto Jefferson Street.
Taking a right, he swings around to the cemetery within a few minutes. Much faster than walking.
Once we’re parked again, he clicks the lock button on his door and flips a switch to engage the child lock on mine. “What are we doing here, Mercy?”
I rapidly jerk the door handle. “This isn’t funny, Sam. Let me out.”
Headlights from a car passing on the street illuminate his face in blinding detail, accentuating the frizzed tumble of brunette hair sticking to his forehead.
Freckles dot his cheeks, one for every day he’s spent out in the sun over the past three years of football practice.
But his eyes—a vibrant green that belongs to glass, not flesh—seem to glow.
“Not until you tell me the truth.” He grips the steering wheel so tightly that the leather creaks.
“Please, Mercy. I can’t help if you’re not honest with me. ”
Turning my face away to look out the window, I don’t answer at first. What can I say? I heard a voice in my ear that sounded like Reaper, but clearly wasn’t, repeat the name he used to identify the corpse he was in the middle of burying?
Grandma Star would believe me, but I’m not sure that Sam will.
“His name was Alejandro,” I say slowly, catching Sam’s reflection in the side-view mirror.
“The man that Reaper killed. That’s his name.
If we go to the grave, we’ll find his family plot.
Section F, fourth row back.” I try to flip through the surnames I’ve read a hundred times in the cemetery’s catalogue, but they blur together in my mind.
I need to walk to the section to jog my memory.
I need to find out who Alejandro was to determine why Reaper killed him.
Sam runs a hand down his face before cursing under his breath.
Undoing the child lock, he sighs. “This whole situation is F’d.
” He slams his car door once he slips out, then comes around to help me down.
As soon as my feet touch the ground, he grabs my hand and holds on tight.
“Don’t walk ahead of me, and don’t wander off on your own. We’re doing this together.”
A small smile curves on my lips. “Scared of the dark?”
He scoffs. “Scared that you’ll get kidnapped, actually. C’mon, I don’t want to be here any longer than we have to.” As we walk beneath a streetlamp, he catches me smiling. “What?”
Shaking my head, I try not to laugh at his expense. “I think you’re scared, Samson Wright. I didn’t know a linebacker could spook so easily.”
It takes a moment for him to respond. I’ve nearly forgotten what we were talking about, but even then, what he says doesn’t make sense.
“I wish you’d stayed home last night.” Sam’s jaw clenches as the graveyard comes into view. “Reaper’s bad news, Mercy. I hope you know what you’re getting into.”
The side gate creaks as I push it open. The damn thing is hardly ever locked. Whoever watches the grounds does a shit job at securing it. I squeeze Sam’s hand as we step across the threshold onto hallowed ground. “I don’t,” I admit honestly, “but I’m ready to find out.”