Chapter 26
GREY
Two days had passed, and I still couldn’t shake this feeling of unease.
The rational side of my brain knew Veda wasn’t responsible, but the small, nagging voice in the back of my head wouldn’t shut the hell up.
I’d personally witnessed Veda’s lifeless body swinging from the hangman’s noose. But there were too many coincidences. I needed to be sure. To confirm with my own two eyes what I knew to be true.
Gravestones littered the ground. The stench of death was masked by the fresh flowers lying on the graves, serving as reminders to the dead that they were still loved and missed.
“We couldn’t have done this, maybe, when it wasn’t raining?” Lyra said, sticking close to my side. I turned to stare at her and couldn’t help but smile at how utterly ridiculous she looked in her green rain boots and bright yellow rain jacket.
“I see you were going for subtle.”
“In my defense, all my other raincoats are back at college, where I’m supposed to be,” she muttered. “That is, if I haven’t already failed out from all the classes I’ve missed.”
The clouds were thick and dark, blocking out the moon. The air felt ominous as a drizzle fell from the sky. Puddles began to form as we continued deeper into the pitch-black darkness.
I readjusted the large duffel bag on my shoulder, trying to ease the building tension.
All of a sudden, a blinding light erupted.
“What the fuck is that?” I stammered, throwing my hands up to block my eyes.
“Umm, a flashlight.” Lyra waved it around in the air.
I ripped it from her hand, clicked it off, and shoved it into my bag.
“Well, how are we supposed to see anything?” she huffed.
Bringing Lyra was a mistake, but I wanted her here. She calmed the storm raging inside me. I reached behind me and gripped her hand, leading her in the direction of the grave.
After only a split second of silence, she leaned in and whispered, “So is night vision one of your superpowers?”
“It’s not a superpower. But yes, I can see in the dark.”
Acting all skeptical, she stopped and asked, “How many fingers am I holding up?”
I turned, my patience hanging by a thread—to find her flipping me off. A smile broke across my face, but I hid my amusement. “One. Now, if you don’t keep moving, I’ll leave you out here.”
That got her attention.
“What exactly are we looking for?” Lyra rambled, unable to handle the silence. I didn’t answer so she continued, “Someone’s moody. Are all demons this temperamental?”
“Only when dealing with insufferable witches.”
I stopped abruptly, and Lyra’s shoulder slammed into my back.
The small rectangular headstone still had a chip in the top left corner from the last time I got a little too drunk and visited. I flexed my fingers, expecting to feel the pain from the broken bones I’d caused that night. But they had healed long ago.
I dropped the duffel bag to the ground with a thud. Metal clanked as I riffled through it.
“What’s in there?” Lyra tried to peer over my shoulder, but it was too dark for her to see anything.
I didn’t answer as my fingers tightened on the wooden handle of the shovel. I raised it above my head, striking the dirt in front of the gravestone, causing Lyra to jump back.
This was going to take a long ass time.
“You can’t be serious right now!” Lyra squealed. “We’re robbing a grave? Someone’s eternal resting place. Do you know how many years of bad luck that is?” The questions kept rolling off her tongue. One after another. After another.
“No, but please fucking enlighten me.”
She pretended to count on her finger. “Like a million.”
The ground was a muddy mess. But at least the place was empty. We were the only ones stupid enough to be out here in the rain.
The shovel easily pierced the dirt, and I slowly began to make progress. Shovel after shovel, the hole began to get deeper and deeper.
An hour later, I still hadn’t found what I was looking for. Sweat and rain dripped down my face onto my chest. I rolled my shoulders, trying to loosen my burning muscles but I kept digging, welcoming the mind-numbing work.
“How’s it going down there?” Lyra’s words snapped me from my trance.
“Just fucking great.”
“Well, if you didn’t want company, I don’t know why you dragged me out here.”
“Because I didn’t want to do this alone,” I said through labored breaths.
“Oh.” Surprise laced her tone at my attempt to be open and honest. I fought back the wave of nausea from the emotional vulnerability. “I just Googled it and normally they bury people like six feet deep.”
I raised the shovel above my head and slammed it into the ground over and over, hoping to connect with something. But it didn’t. Because no one was buried here.
“Grey?” I heard Lyra call my name.
“What do you see?” I asked.
The light from her flashlight blinded me. She squinted, removing her wire-framed glasses from a pocket in her raincoat.
“Um, nothing.” She tried to get a better look. “What am I supposed to be looking at?”
“A coffin. A body. Take your pick.”
Lyra clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes as she took another look at the empty hole like she might have missed it the first time.
“Whose grave was this supposed to be?” she asked, but her tone told me she already knew the answer.
“Veda’s.” I ground out.
My pulse quickened. The collar roared to life, sending a shock down my spine. My legs gave out, and my muscles spasmed. Power flowed through my veins, threatening to rip me apart.
“Grey…” My name drifted through the air.
The grave is empty. She’s not here. She’s gone.
“You’re hurting me.” The voice was familiar. Soft and sweet.
Lips brushed mine, and I welcomed the taste of coffee and sweetness. A tingling sensation ran through my body, but it wasn’t from the collar. The kiss muted the world and calmed the power warring inside me.
She pulled back, leaving us both gasping for air. Her hand flew to her lips, brushing her fingertips against them. “That was…electric.”
The lonely darkness receded, and in its place stood Lyra. I couldn’t look away. She was the most beautiful fucking thing I’d ever seen.
“Are you okay?” She looked up at me, concern lacing her features.
“I’m fine,” I told her, my muscles still convulsing from the shock.
“Can we get out of here? This place gives me the heebbie-jeebbies.” She grimaced.
“Yeah. There’s nothing here, anyway.” I braced myself on the side of the grave, helping Lyra climb out. Mud caked all over my jeans and sweatshirt as I clawed my way out behind her.
Rain cascaded down in sheets, coming down sideways. It was impossible to see anything.
We took off in a sprint. Puddles swallowed my boots, soaking all the way to my socks. Lyra splashed next to me in her rainboots, the hood of her jacket covering her face, but wisps of dark brown hair escaped.
The lights of Lyra’s SUV flashed as she unlocked it. The wind whipped through the car as we climbed in, and I tugged the door closed. Lyra blasted the heat, rubbing her hands together for warmth. She stabbed at the seat warmer until it was on high. My ass was about to be slow roasted.
“Holy shit.” Lyra’s teeth chattered. Her entire body shook as she put the SUV into drive.
Rain pelted the windshield, making it difficult to see as Lyra drove.
She made a hard left and the car started hydroplaning in the pothole-filled parking lot across the street from the Dutchman.
The red neon light of the open sign shone through the windshield, but only a handful of cars were in the parking lot of the twenty-four-hour diner.
The lack of patrons was most likely due to it being the middle of the night.
“What the hell are we doing here when the bar is on the other side of the street?” I asked as she cut the engine.
“I’m starving, and you have nothing in your fridge or cabinets.” She didn’t wait before sprinting across the parking lot into the diner.
I trudged in behind her, my shoes squishing with each step.
Lyra sat in a corner booth, already looking at the menu.
Her bright yellow raincoat made it impossible to miss her.
Water dripped to the table from her long, dark hair.
Streaks of dirt ran down her flushed face.
She stared at the menu as if she was making a life-and-death decision. And to her, it probably was.
The cracked vinyl seats squeaked as I slid into the booth. Grease and fried oil drowned out the smell of the fresh pot of coffee brewing at the front.
The server’s eyes widened at our current state of disarray.
“We got a flat tire. And of course, it all happened during a thunderstorm,” Lyra said with absolute fucking sunshine that refused to be dulled, no matter the situation. Even as she sat soaking wet and covered in mud.
“Oh, that’s some bad luck,” the young girl said taking out her ticket book and pen. “Are you ready to order?” the young girl asked.
“Umm…” Lyra’s eyes widened as she flipped the menu over for the hundredth time.
“I can give you another minute if you’d like.”
“I’ll just take a cup of coffee,” I said, handing the server my menu.
“I’ll have one too. And a bowl of chowder and a slice of cinnamon pie.”
“Okay, let me check to see if we have any pie left.”
Lyra’s face fell as the server walked away, but she returned quickly.
“We still have a few slices.” She set two mugs in front of us and filled them both to the brim with steaming coffee.
“Thank goodness. We’ll take two.” Lyra let out a sigh of relief. A wide, toothy smile split her lips. She smiled so often, I had started to note the different meanings of each one. The toothy grin she currently wore was one of my favorites because it was genuine.
Lyra took a hesitant sip and choked out, “wow, the coffee will grow some hair on your chest, but at least it’s hot.” She wrapped her hands around the mug, letting the steam waft into her face.
We both stared into our mug, letting the quiet stretch on. My mind raced with all the possibilities for why the grave was empty.
The clank of plates redirected my attention. The waitress set down a bowl the size of Lyra’s head filled to the brim with clam chowder and two large slices of pie.
“Can I get you two anything else?” She refilled our mugs with a hot shot of coffee.
“Nope, I think we’re good,” Lyra said, crushing crackers to dump into her soup.
“Just give me a holler if you need anything else.” She sauntered back to the kitchen. We were the only patrons in the dining area. All the other guests sat at the bar.
“So… An empty grave.” Lyra blew on a steaming spoonful of soup before slurping it down.
“Things just got a hell of a lot more complicated.” I rubbed my palms over my eyes.
“And way more personal.”
I nodded. Still reeling from the discovery.
“How does Devin fit into all this. What game is he playing?” My voice rose. Everyone at the counter turned their attention to us. I bared my teeth, hissing, at the man wearing an old trucker hat. His eyes widened, and he went back to stuffing his mouth full of pancakes.
“And why is it all happening now?” Lyra added, finishing the final spoonful of her soup and immediately starting on her pie. “This is delicious,” she said casually between bites, like we weren’t in the middle of a conversation about murders and sacrifices.
“All Hallows’ Eve is right around the corner. It’s the day when the veil between the worlds is thinnest. And by the spirits’ recent unruly activities, they’re involved in all this shit, too.”
Lyra’s ice-cold hand grabbed mine, coaxing it open until she could lace our fingers together. “It’s time we remove that damn collar.”