Chapter 2 Cinerator
It was quiet tonight. The type of night that seemed to sit with anticipation, almost vibrating with an electric hum that few seemed to notice. But I did. The feeling buzzed across the bare skin of my arms, and I swore that I could almost see the tattoos on my skin bouncing from the excess energy.
A lit cigarette rested between my lips. I wasn’t inhaling, too distracted by the need to leave the clubhouse and walk the nearby cemetery.
Something in my bones seemed restless. When that happened, I usually went for a ride on my bike.
But tonight? I felt a pull to the graveyard and the ghostly remains of the souls buried there.
“You feel it too,” Fiend observed as he lit a smoke beside me, leaning against the exterior wall outside, taking up the space to my left. “Makes me fuckin’ antsy.” He tilted his head, staring at me as he ticked his chin. “You look ready to jump outta your skin.”
“Yeah,” I agreed with a crack of my neck. I didn’t say that it had anything to do with the cemetery. Or the forest that lay beyond it. Just let him think whatever the fuck he wanted. But if he felt the same tug I did, he didn’t clarify. “I’m gonna clear my head.”
Fiend nodded, blowing out a thick ring of smoke that slowly rose and circled his head before fading away in the cool wind. He’d probably end up taking a ride through the barren streets as soon as he finished his smoke.
Neither of us enjoyed being idle.
I pinched the cigarette dangling from my mouth and tossed it to the ground, using my boot to snuff out the cinders before I headed away from the clubhouse, toward the mortuary.
The building connected to Revered Grove Memorial Home on the property.
While the club owned the land surrounding Deathrock Cemetery, including the lumber mill and our lucrative carpentry business, we didn’t have any rights to the acres within the black iron gates.
We did create the one item nearly everyone inside needed.
Coffins.
At least, that was the legit business on the books.
Didn’t really matter as long as the club didn’t have to deal with the law.
Gravedigger handled the logistics since he was president.
I didn’t have the fucking patience for it.
To be honest, not many of us did, except for Reaver.
He was good with numbers, which was why Gravedigger, or G.D.
, as most of us knew him, made Reaver the treasurer.
A crisp, cool wind blew around me as I walked toward the wood shop, looking for a distraction when I found one I didn’t expect.
But I sure as hell recognized the same insistent and nearly annoying pull on my body.
My feet carried me forward as if they had a mind of their own.
At nearly one in the morning, no one should have been inside the cemetery, especially mourners.
But I felt her presence long before I saw the woman kneeling beside a fresh grave.
Her grief hung around her shoulders and weighed her down with an invisible blanket.
It sent fresh waves of sorrow through her slender body, nearly stealing her breath more than once.
Tears shimmered in her dark blue eyes, glistening in the moonlight.
She didn’t see me.
I inhaled, taking in the layers of regret, pain, and sadness that radiated from her.
They created a unique and irresistible cocktail that I grew nearly intoxicated on.
My eyes closed, and I concentrated on the emotions, drawing in more as I sensed she was close to letting those tears fall.
Grief had a chokehold on her, and I eagerly gobbled up the emotional dam as it burst, leaving her sobbing as her hand rested on the mound of dirt.
It wasn’t that I was some asshole looking to get off on her suffering. I literally could not help it.
Sorrow was my drug of choice, although any strong emotion would suffice.
I fed from her grief and sorrow and devoured the thick, cloying essence, suddenly ravenous.
The more she wept, the more I sucked it in until I nearly stumbled against the nearest tree.
My body swayed. A shudder raced through me as she dried her eyes, resting back against the grass. Right beside the grave.
I’d bet the last dime that I owned she buried a relative today. Someone she loved. But to come here at midnight? And lie in the graveyard among the dead?
Her odd behavior intrigued me.
To see this woman, flanked by the wicked shadows of the forest and silvery moonbeams, her blonde hair in a wild disarray as it crowned her head, sent my blood racing in my veins. My cock stirred as a brief wave of desire crashed through me.
A lone howl filled the silence in the cemetery, and I smiled. It wasn’t long before I felt a nudge against my thigh. Reaching down, I scratched behind a set of velvety soft ears. “Hey, boy.”
He whimpered as I lifted my hand and stopped petting him.
“Not now. We’ve got a visitor.”
A low growl vibrated in his throat until he found the young woman beside the freshly dug grave. I would have thought he had already noticed her, but he probably got distracted by my scent and the overwhelming odor of decaying flesh. It was always the ripest after a funeral.
But then a weird sort of wail echoed across the cemetery. A tremor slid through my body as I realized the beast at my side was reacting to the woman. No, not reacting. Recognizing. Remembering.
“Isn’t that interesting?” I muttered, focusing on the woman as she scrambled to her knees, with wide, fearful eyes scanning the headstones and surrounding graves, and acting as if she heard my companion.
Wait. Did she hear him?
Just as she began to rise to her feet, that revelation was confirmed when the beast at my side lunged in her direction.
He galloped along the ground, sending quakes across the earth with every thud of his big, hairy paws.
He slammed into the woman with enthusiasm, knocking her to the ground.
But he didn’t stop there, pinning her as she tried to get up.
The odd part?
She couldn’t fucking see him. Hell, his breed was only visible to specific types of individuals. Like me.
I frowned as the traitor leaned down and sniffed her hair before licking the side of her face. He never licked anyone but me. What the fuck?
Well, there was no choice but to leave the shadows now. I leaned against the tree closest to the grave, allowing the moonlight to illuminate my presence. Amused, I watched the woman as she tried to push against the invisible shield in front of her. “He likes you.”
She startled, her gaze shooting to mine.
The second she did so, my hairy companion wagged his barbed tail and whimpered because her attention moved from him to me. Jealous fucker.
The woman blinked. She appeared dazed. Confused. Like she didn’t trust what her eyes couldn’t see, but she already knew to be true.
“You’re not dreaming,” I informed her. “Not quite sure how, but you charmed a grim.”
She pinched her arm and winced at the slight pain.
I held back a laugh. “Believe me now?”
“Get it together, Gwen,” she whispered. “Don’t have a nervous breakdown now.”
She was adorably clueless. Her reaction was too fucking sweet. My lips twitched with a grin when I realized she revealed something about herself that she probably didn’t intend. At least, not yet.
Her name. Gwen.
My forgotten companion howled.
Gwen gasped in response, wiggling but not able to gain her freedom.
Wow. She really could hear him.
“Did something spook you?” I asked to clarify.
“This can’t be real.” Her panicked gaze locked onto mine. “Something invisible is holding me down and licking me.” She sounded incredulous but also confused. “It licked me,” she repeated before a sudden rush of tears filled her eyes.
Shit.
“He won’t hurt you. Trust me. If he wanted to harm you, you’d already be dead.”
I didn’t think my explanation helped. She began to tremble. “What?”
“He’s a church grim.” I shrugged, knowing she wouldn’t understand. I wouldn’t normally educate anyone other than my club brothers about the cemetery’s guardian. But I didn’t want her to fear him. “They’re harmless unless you’re prey.”
“Ch-church grim?”
“Yeah. Sort of like a big dog. Think Cane Corso but with sharp nails, venomous fangs, and a barbed tail. He’s got black and red fur.”
She blinked, processing that information. “You’re kidding.”
I tilted my head to the side, studying her. “No.”
“What’s the dog, uh, church grim’s name?”
“Omen.”
A look of genuine incredulousness appeared. “You named your pet Omen?”
“First off, you don’t name a church grim. That’s offensive. He told me his name.”
“Told you?” She scoffed. “Are you saying your invisible dog talks to you?”
Omen bared his teeth and growled. He was sensitive about his name.
Gwen lifted her hands. “Sorry. I won’t call you a dog anymore. Okay, big boy?”
Omen licked her face and then bounded off, probably catching the scent of prey on the wind. He really had the shortest attention span. Gwen must be special to snare his attention and hold it for as long as she did.
Mostly because he didn’t want to eat her.
“He doesn’t talk,” I finally answered. “Not in a way that would make sense to you.”
She pushed off the ground and began swiping the dirt from her clothes. “I’m not going to try to dissect that answer right now.”
Good idea.
“It’s getting late. I should go.”
“I’ll walk you to the gates,” I offered. This was a fucking graveyard in the middle of the night. Anything could happen. Threats from the nearby forest. Whatever caught Omen’s attention. Me.
Gwen needed protection.
“Uh, thanks.”
I walked beside her, slowing my strides so she didn’t have to run to keep up with me since I stood nearly six and a half feet tall.
My long legs ate up the distance without trying.
We descended the hill, steering toward the pathway that led to the main entrance.
It didn’t take long, and we didn’t strike up a conversation, which suited me fine. I wasn’t the chatty type.
When the large gates loomed in front of us, we stopped.