Darlings of Paranormal Romance (Anthology) (193 page)

A plaque
set into the garden’s stone wall made me smile. End of an Era. From
the raised stones peeking behind the garden flowers, this was a
cemetery, not a park. The owner obviously had a sense of humor
along with the desire to create one of those resting places with a
welcome. A twenty-something looking woman whizzed by on roller
blades, waving as she passed.

The pathways were lit up with those new
solar green energy lights. I took the first lane along the outer
border and slowed my pace. The tall slate and marble gravestones
were erected on the left side with an ancient forest lining the
right. As I jogged, I passed through a part of the cemetery that
must’ve been the original lot with worn-down, ancient-looking
stones. I paused or weaved between the stones to read the odd one:
“1886 John Hartzel -- 18 years of age, 1892 Patrick O’Reilly --
died too young, Tammy Fortune 1802 -1822.”
What’s with this place? Can’t come
here if you’re over thirty?

Squinting, I jogged closer to a raised
tombstone with a concrete angel resting on top. Using my hand,
which carried my iPod, I rested it on the corner of the stone to
steady myself. I leaned forward for a better look at the
inscription.
Poor thing, same age as the others.
I straightened and pushed off to
finish my run. The cord from my iPod snagged the angel’s head,
yanking the buds from my ears—the iPod went flying from my
hand.

“
Crap!” I skidded to a stop on the damp
grass and used my palms to hug my ears.
It hurt like a
bitch
. I
glanced up at the stone figurine and grimaced. Imagine trying to
decapitate an angel.
People were probably rolling in their graves right
now.

Double crap! My iPod. It better not be
busted
. Night
had fully descended, which didn’t work in my favor.
I got down on my
knees and began groping in the dark, futilely trying to scan the
grass. The little solar lights were useless. “
Of course, I had to buy the
black case,” I mumbled and
shook my head as I crawled to check under a nearby
bench. Cobwebs caressed my face, which had me doing a karate twitch
dance as I tried to knock off any possible spiders and remove the
webs.

A twig
snapped, followed by a muffled laugh.

I froze, waiting, tense, my head cocked to
the side. It was dead quiet.
As it should be in a cemetery.
No noise. Not a
sound.

“
Dummy.” I got out from under the bench,
sat up and brushed off my sweatshirt. It’d taken months to save for
the iPod. I dropped down to search again clawing at chunks of
grass.
I’m
not leaving till I find it, even if I have to swallow some hairy,
icky spiders.

“
You lose something?” A low, gruff voice broke through the
dark. “Or are you digging your own grave?”

Chapter 2

My heart leapt to my throat. I smacked my
head on the bottom of the bench. “Flippin’ heck!” I scrambled back,
rubbing the sore spot, paranoid about how high my butt hung in the
air.
My luck,
it was probably some graveyard rapist.

The
stranger said nothing. All I could see was the outline of a pair of
dark with white Converse sneakers. I noisily sucked in a rapid
breath, not realizing I’d held it.

“
Sorry,” the husky male voice said, sounding amused. “I didn't
mean to startle you. This probably isn’t the best place to sneak up
on someone.” He cleared his throat. “Are you looking for
something?”

His
voice turned soft, but masculine. Not the kind of voice you
expected to hear in a cemetery.

Then
again, what kind of voice would one expect to hear?

I glanced up then fell back on my butt. A
boy standing a few feet away from me definitely didn’t belong in a
cemetery.
Too
tanned, too blond, too…wow, hot
.

Very
tall, especially from where I sat on the ground. I had to make an
effort to drag my eyes away from his face. Even in the dark, his
blue eyes flashed against the moonlight. He had the blondest hair
I’d ever seen, like a Viking’s.

Not a psycho or kidnapper, just a kid like
me.
I relaxed
and stood, brushing my shorts.
Why are you in the cemetery?
I didn’t bother to
ask. He probably wondered the same about me. With my luck, he’d
just visited his girlfriend’s tombstone.
Man, I’m awful.

I
quickly shut my mouth, which hung open. Coughing, I spoke a little
too loudly. “I-I lost my iPod.”

Another chuckle erupted from his lips,
sounding like it belonged in the movies. Hollywood-boy walked
around me and behind the upright stone angel. He bent down behind
it and pulled a long, white string. My eyes widened and for a split
second I thought about running.
What did he plan on doing? Strangling
me?

Then it
dawned on me, the white string belonged to my ear buds. A sure sign
when the iPod followed along, like a fish on a line. The wind
caught behind me and blew escaped ponytail hair into my face.
Irritated, I brushed it away from my eyes.

He
paused before turning back around. “It smells…” he inhaled “…like
liquorice.”

I
sniffed. “It smells like dead people. Well, like damp grass.” The
lawn looked to have been cut a couple of days ago. Clumps of old
grass lay under the cement bench, emitting a rotten smell like old
cheese.

He
straightened and flashed a smile, his teeth bright against the dark
of night. “You’re not from around here, are you?” He held out my
iPod and dropped it onto my outstretched hand.

“
Got here yesterday.” I stuffed the iPod in my pocket. “Thanks.
I’m Rouge.”

An
eyebrow disappeared behind his hair. “Michael.” He grinned and held
out his hand which I shook lightly.

Pleasantly cool. They’d feel good on my
cheeks which are freakin’ burning right now.
That thought made them flame
even more.

“
The iPod didn’t manage to pull your ears off?”

“
You caught that?” Now I wanted to crawl into one of the
graves.

“
I rounded the bend…” he pointed in the opposite direction from
where I’d come, “…when I noticed you trying to decapitate this poor
angel here.” He patted the figure.

I sensed
a smile in his voice.

He
cleared his throat and took a step back.

“
What’re you doing in the cemetery?” I blurted, unable to hide
my curiosity.

“
Taking a break.” He grinned like he’d made a joke. “Are you
going to continue your run?” He shifted like he was surprised he
had asked the question. He cleared his throat. “Otherwise I can
walk with you to the main road.”

“
I think it’s safer if I walk.” We started towards the main
road. “Do you live around here?” I grimaced at the needy sound in
my voice.

“
Not too far.”

“
My place is that way.” I pointed to the left.

“
I’m that way.” He nodded in the other direction.

We
continued in silence while I wracked my brain trying to come up
with something witty to say.

“
Well, maybe I’ll see you around.” I stared
at my runners.
Brilliant, Rouge. Brilliant
.

“
Welcome to Port Coquitlam, Rouge.” He started off without a
glance back.

I stood admiring his…
could jeans really fit that
perfect on a rear end
?
I forced my eyes away. “He’s a guy, not a god.” My gaze
flicked back when a low, bouncy noise sounded.
Did he just
laugh?

His pace
never slowed nor did he turn around.

I
started slowly jogging home. My heart stuttered and flopped against
my chest. I didn’t know if it came from the near fright or the
closeness of the very hot boy.

Michael was on my mind that night and
again when I woke the next morning.
Where did he live? Would he be at
school?
He
seemed so cool and together. Usually I avoided guys in general, and
if one did catch my eye, dark-hair, brown eyes and brooding were
the prerequisite.

The next evening, I jogged to the
cemetery, grinning when I passed the angel, and gave her a wink.
Then I headed north, the way Michael had gone when he left last
night.
What
were the chances I’d actually find his street, let alone his
house?
I
stopped mid-street and turned to walk home—stalker wasn’t one of my
personality traits.

Friday
morning I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to get out of Jim and
Sally’s house to escape and clear my thoughts. They’d been
bickering non stop about fixing the house, Sally’s job, Jim’s lack
of a job and anything else which seemed to pop into their
heads.

Through
the grey clouds, the air hung heavy with a cool breeze hinting at
an end-of-summer storm. The sun kept trying to poke its way through
the dark.

As I
headed out the front door, I grabbed a baseball cap in case it
rained and walked towards the high school. Figuring out where a few
of my classes were would save wandering the halls next
week.

The
limestone near the front entrance of the high school had 1922
imprinted on it... The buildings were created with copper red brick
throughout and had large windows on both floors. The school might
be small, but its structure was unique. An architectural plaque,
showing the school’s layout, hung plastered into the brick. In the
center lay a courtyard, like that of an old castle.

The very
posh building and grounds reminded me of the kind of boarding
schools in movies or books. It made me nervous. I hadn’t fit into
the big high school back in Niagara Falls. What were the chances
I’d fit in here, a small school? I kicked a pebble on the sidewalk.
It was only one year, so it didn’t really matter what happened. I
just needed to keep up my grades to score some sort of scholarship.
Thank goodness school came easy – science, math, even English –
just don’t put me in choir or art, and I’d be fine.

Running
up the wide steps, I made my way inside the building. The school
secretary was busy printing off papers and stuffing them into
envelopes. She glanced up as the office door creaked. She wore a
frilly dress that matched her horn-rimmed glasses. She might have
been here when the school first opened. She smiled and walked
towards the front counter.

“
You must be Rouge Riding. Welcome to Port Q High. I’m Ms.
Graid.”

“
It’s Rouge, like row with a ‘g’ sound at
the end. Spelled R-O-U-G-E; like the way the French spells red.”
One day, I’d shake the crap out of the person who named
me
.
I smiled. “My last
name’s actually Rid-ding. Just spelled like your driving in a car.”
Someone had a good laugh writing my birth certificate. “I thought I
should come by before school started to make sure all my
transcripts came through.”

“
Just printed off your schedule.” She chirped like a bird.
Those glasses gave her owl eyes and didn’t flatter her round face.
“You don’t have any free time this semester, but from the looks of
your grades, you won’t have a problem.”

“
Thanks.” I took the papers she held out and glanced over the
schedule.

Ms.
Graid handed me a map of the school, with my classes numbered and
highlighted. This woman had too much time on her hands. She’d
organized and color coordinated my class schedule with additional
highlighting and smiley faces. I made a mental note to memorize the
map before I got caught holding it when school started.

“
Thanks again.” I smiled. I was sure she meant well.

“
Be sure and check in any time. I’m always here to help.” She
hummed some ancient, classical-sounding tune as she returned to
stuffing envelopes.

I walked
out of the office and decided to follow her little map around the
school while it was empty. It didn’t take long to find my way
around; the setup of the small building was very basic. I loved the
outdoor courtyard in the center. Every surrounding classroom had a
view of it.

Stuffing the map in my backpack, I headed
down a flight of stairs to make my way to the front entrance. As I
passed the front office, a pretty, petite girl walked out. I didn’t
mean to but I couldn’t help staring. She reminded me of someone. I
couldn’t place who. She had gorgeous blonde hair, long and in a
million braids. Her eye color made me think of Niagara Falls. They
were bright on her bronzed face.
This girl…definitely one of the popular
ones.

“
You new?” Her gaze roamed me up and down.

I
nodded. Her voice had a tone of confidence mine would never
have.

She
linked her arm through mine and steered me towards the exit. “I
drove here. ’Bout time someone new showed up.” Her leg kicked out
and she tapped the handicap button by the front doors, letting the
door open automatically. “I’m Grace and we need something fun for
Saturday.”