Buried Secrets (New Adult Dark Suspense Romance) (23 page)

The three-piece suit, covered in dirt and gore.

The wild, white hair, like a mad Einstein, matted with blood.

The razor sharp teeth—they had been filed to points.

The rasp of its voice, like the scrape of the mausoleum door when it opened.

And claws, black and sharp and shaped like hooks.

The beam of light wavered on its face. Red gore dripped down its chin, staining the front of the suit it wore. In its hands—claws sharp and thick—it held another hand. Dusty saw the third hand, severed at the wrist, as the thing bit down, still looking up at them as two of the fingers disappeared into its mouth. A sickening crunching sound reached her ears.

…bones, it eats the bones…

It spit something out and there was a chink on the cement. Whatever it was bounced past her and onto the first step. Dusty glanced down, scrutinizing it in the moonlight. A ring, the color of the stone looking black in the light. It was Jake's class ring.

That’s when the surface calm broke.

Finally finding her voice, she began to scream. Looking back inside, she saw it getting up. The scream wouldn’t stop and she covered her mouth with her hands, gun dropping into the snow, her desire for vengeance evaporating in the face of the monster in front of them. Shane glanced back at her from inside, checking on her. She began to back away, down the steps.

The monster moved toward Shane—but he was looking back at her.

“
Kill it!”
she screamed, pointing.

Shane whirled around and she watched in the moonlight as it moved toward them, grinning. Shane raised the gun but he was a split second too late. It tackled him and they slid across the slick cement toward the door. Both the gun and flashlight flew through the opening when Shane hit the floor and…

CRACK

…the gun went off as it hit the ground about three feet from Dusty, taking a chip of marble from one of the headstones nearby. The flashlight bounced on the steps and the light flickered and died.

She reacted then, finally, her breath coming back, her body responding, and she grabbed the gun at her feet and bounded up the steps. The thing made an ugly, chortling sound, and it took her a moment to realize it was laughing.

“
Shut up!”
Dusty cocked the gun and aimed. The thing looked up, startled, from where it had been about to sink its teeth into the vulnerable flesh on the side of Shane's throat. Her hands shook and she fired and missed. The bullet hit the far wall, whizzing past its head. She cocked it again, and this time the bullet sank into its shoulder, jerking it back. It wailed loudly, clutching the wound.

Then it stood, snarling at her. She pulled the trigger again, frantic, and the bullet made contact, tearing a hole in the side of its throat. It stumbled backward, falling, and then it was still.

Still.

She lowered the gun, heart thrumming in her throat.

There was no movement at all, not a sound.

“Shane,” she breathed, looking down at him. Eyes closed, covered darkly in blood, he lay motionless, but she couldn’t tell if any of the blood was his. The flashlight was useless.

“Shane? Can you hear me?” She knelt beside him, ignoring a small
squish
under her right knee and not bothering to look at what she had kneeled on.

He was breathing. Thank God for that. It was shallow though, and blood was streaked across his face, in his hair.

“Shane.” She shook him. “Shane, are you okay?”

He came to, his eyes losing their dazed look.

“Oh, thank God.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “Can you walk? Are you all right?”

“M'okay,” he said thickly, lifting his hand to his head and rubbing the back of it. “What am I lying on?”

“Never mind,” Dusty said, not wanting to think about the things beneath them in the darkness. Only a foot from Shane, Jake gaped at them, lifeless. “Come on, I'll help you up. I want to get the hell out of here.”

She stood, offering him a hand.

“Is it—?”

“It's dead,” she assured him, looking over at it. “Come on.”

He took her hand and got up, looking down.

In the moonlight he was able to see more than she would have liked him to. His face twisted and he looked away, closing his eyes.

“Oh God.”

Dusty squeezed his hand, pulling him out of the mausoleum. They went down the steps, out into the bright moonlight.

“Jesus, my head.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Where are Cody and Nate?”

“I don't know.” Dusty looked at him, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Hey.” Shane saw her tears. “Hey, what's this?”

“You're a mess,” she said and then hugged him fast and hard, pressing her cheek against his neck where that thing had almost sunk its teeth. He hugged her back, and they stood there, silent.

“Leaving?” a rasping voice asked from behind them. Dusty screamed, tearing herself away from Shane, seeing it standing in the doorway.

“Dusty, where's the gun?” Shane grabbed her arm, pushing her behind him, backing them up as it came down the steps.

“I shot it,” Dusty cried. “I swear to God, I did. It was dead, Shane. It was dead!”

“
Where’s the gun?
” he bellowed. Dusty looked up at him, startled, and then pointed.

“There,” she said simply.

He groaned as it advanced toward them, chortling, claws raised.

“Damnit!” Shane rummaged through his pockets as he backed away. “Give me a lighter, a match, something!”

“I don't think—” She began hunting in her pockets as they backed away. It didn’t seem to be in a hurry as it came toward them.

“Here!” She handed him a lighter out of her jacket pocket.

Dusty looked at the thing coming toward them, grimacing. Its hair was matted with blood, its clothes stained with it—God, what
was
it?

“Get ready,” Shane said, and she looked back over at him.

He was holding an M-80, trying desperately to light the fuse. The... thing... had decided to stop fooling around and broke into a run. Dusty screamed, tugging at Shane's jacket. He looked up.

“Come on, come on!” The fuse caught with a hiss.

“Run!” Shane pulled her arm.

He threw the M-80 at the thing, hitting it square in the chest. She followed Shane, glancing back. It was bending to pick it up, examining it.

“Shane,” she gasped, tugging at his sleeve, still looking over her shoulder. “Shane, look!”

He did. The M-80 had a long fuse and it still hadn't gone off. The thing was lifting it to its mouth. Dusty almost laughed.

We win,
she thought.
We win!

“Son-of-a...” Shane's sentence trailed off and he stopped, turning to watch as the thing tried to chew on the M-80.

“It's gonna go off! It’s—”

Shane groaned as it threw the M-80 to the ground, uninterested.

“It's a dud,” he said grimly.

Dusty's heart plummeted. It looked back up at them, grinning with pointed teeth, its mouth opening in an impossible yaw.

“Come on!” Shane grabbed her arm and pulled hard, beginning to run.

“Where are we going?”

Shane didn’t answer, fingers digging into her flesh. It was gaining. She didn’t know how, but it was gaining on them. Dusty glanced over her shoulder.

“Don't look,” Shane panted. “Just
run!”

She stumbled over a headstone and Shane caught her, slipping in the snow. He skidded down and Dusty slid next to him, groping for a handhold. There wasn't one and she slipped until her hip hit another headstone. Shane was up already, pulling on her arm.

“Come
on
,” he said, and she got up, stumbling after him, her hip throbbing.

She didn’t look back. Ahead was the western fence. Maybe if they could get over it...

“Here.” Shane hopped a headstone. Dusty went around it, following him down a sloping hill to the asphalt. “Hurry!”

They ran, feet pounding on the pavement. Dusty's hair flew behind her and she had a dreadful thought, seeing that horrible thing in her mind's eye, grabbing her hair, pulling her back—

“Down here.” Shane cut right, toward the back of the cemetery. There was another mausoleum rising in the dimness in front of them. She looked behind her and it wasn't in sight. They had lost it—for now.

“Quiet,” Shane urged, his own breathing heavy as he collapsed on the steps.

Dusty sat beside him. He pulled something out of his back pocket.

“What—?”

“Shh.” He hit the chrome and six inches of steel glinted in the moonlight. “Trusty switchblade. I don't leave home without it.”

“Kind of like American Express?”

He smiled at her, examining the blade.

“I thought that M-80 was our ticket.” Shane sighed. “I can’t believe it was a dud.”

“Just our luck.” Her gaze stayed on the cemetery in front of them. It was out there—somewhere.

He smirked. “Me and Nick used to go fishing with M-80’s. They go off under water, so we used to take one, tie a rock on, light it, and throw it in. The blast would knock the fish out and they'd just float to the surface. We could just pick them up with nets, or our bare hands if we really wanted.”

“That’s awful,” she said, disgusted.

“And illegal,” he added.

She couldn’t help smiling.

“What was that?” she asked. “Did you hear it?”

“Shh.” He stood.

There it was again, a low rustling from the right side of the mausoleum. Shane motioned for her to stay quiet, holding the knife in front of him. Dusty looked at his back, blood caked and drying on his jeans and in his hair. He moved toward the right side of the mausoleum.

He edged around the corner and there were high-pitched screams, then

CRACK

Six feet away a bullet lodged into an elm tree.

“Holy shit, Cody, you nearly blew my fucking head off!” Shane yelled, still ducking.

“Hey, I'm sorry, but Christ, I didn't know it was you!”

Dusty sighed, closing her eyes when she heard the familiar sound of Cody's voice. She stood and joined them. Nate was holding the 12-guage, eyes wide. She smiled at him and he smiled weakly back.

“Where’ve you been?” Shane asked.

Nate shrugged. “Looking for you guys.”

“Didn't you hear us?” Dusty cried.

“Well.” Cody and Nate looked at each other. “We heard something.”

“Thanks a lot.” Shane rolled his eyes. “We could have used a little help.”

Dusty touched Shane's arm, shaking her head. Cody wouldn’t meet their eyes, looking at the gun in his hands. Nate stared at the snow.

“Well, the thing is still alive.” Shane’s face was grim. “But Jake and Ryan are dead.”

Cody gasped, sounding as if someone had hit him in the stomach.

Nate stood wide-eyed. “Dead?” he repeated, looking at Dusty. She nodded.

“Did you try to kill it?” Cody demanded. “Did you shoot it?”

“I shot it,” Dusty said grimly. “Twice.”

“And I threw an M-80 at it,” Shane told them. “It put it in its mouth. I think that would have done it, but it was a dud.”

“What
is
it?” Cody turned to pace toward the back of the mausoleum. “And what the hell is it doing here?”

He stopped and leaned against the wall.

“I don't know, Shane.” Nate sounded uneasy. “There's not much we can do if bullets can't stop it.”

He joined Cody.

“Depends, I guess.” Shane followed them toward the back of the mausoleum. “Depends on where it was shot.” They stood there in the shadows and Dusty joined them, shivering. It was getting colder. “Bullet wounds aren't always fatal.”

“It was a head shot.” Dusty raised her eyebrows. “Well… a neck shot, at least.”

“I don’t know,” Shane shrugged. “Maybe you missed the artery?”

She gave him a cool look. “That shot should have killed it.”

“Then it can’t be human,” Cody said. “Can it?”

“I think it
was
human.” Dusty frowned at the memory of the thing, the wild, white hair, the filthy, tattered suit. “At one time maybe. But now—?”

Shane motioned her to be quiet and she gave him a strange look.

“She’s right.” Shane’s voice grew louder as he motioned for Cody to give him his gun, still talking. Cody handed it over, puzzled. Shane was looking behind them. “And if it was human once, it can be killed.”

He put his finger to his lips after checking the ammunition in the gun and then pointed. They all turned around. A long shadow was growing on the snow in the moonlight on the other side of the mausoleum.

A shadow with hooked claws.

Dusty opened her mouth to scream but a hand was in the way—Shane's. He shook his head, turning her around, still talking.