Graveyard Games (29 page)

Sam paused, looking at her, and then glanced
back toward the lights. It was the only chance Shane needed. He
leapt, knocking the gun from Sam's hand, wrestling him to the
ground. Dusty sat frozen, her heart rising in her throat, cutting
off air flow. They were a thick tangle and then a hand reached out
blindly, searching. It fell over the gun.

"No!" She found her voice, her breath, her
thoughts, and she jumped up. Sam had gotten the upper hand and
leveled the gun at Shane.

"No, don't!
Don’t
!"
She screamed, starting forward.

"Kuh-KILLED HIM!" Sam pulled the
trigger.

Sheriff Thompson, stepping out of the squad
car, pulled his gun, yelling, "What's going on here?"

Chris and Billy, following the Sheriff,
stared unbelievingly. Dusty, sobbing, looked at Shane's inert
form.

"Bastard!" Dusty looked up at Sam. A bullet
whizzed past her ear. She didn’t stop coming toward him.

Thompson’s gun went off and caught Sam in
the chest. Sam fell back, looking at her, dazed. She couldn’t say
anything—something constricted in her chest.

"The ambulance is coming," Billy said
urgently, grabbing her arm.

"What the hell is going on?" Chris looked
between the two bodies lying on the ground.

Dusty collapsed beside Shane on the snow.
The bullet had gone through the left pocket of his leather, a chest
wound. He was bleeding heavily, and it spread, thick and dark.

"Shane?" She tried to keep the tremble from
her voice. He didn’t answer her.

"Where's the ambulance?" she demanded,
looking up at Billy and Chris. The tears streaked her face. "I told
you to call a goddamned ambulance!"

"One's on the way from Shadow Hills." Chris
knelt beside her. "Is he...?"

"I don't know." She covered her face with
her hands. “I'm afraid to..."

"Hey." The low sound made them all look.
Shane was looking at them, unfocused, but alive.

"You're going to be okay." Billy dropped
beside them. "Ambulance is on the way."

"Get... him?" he asked. His eyes were slits,
his voice thick and slurred. Dusty leaned over him touching his
hair.

"They got him." Chris glanced back at
Sam.

"Ambulance should be here in a few minutes!"
The deputy called. Matt was on the radio in his car, and Buck knelt
over Sam. No one made a reply.

"Ain't got—” Shane gasped
and then coughed. He was panting. Fighting for air, Dusty thought,
oh, god, he's fighting to
breathe
.

"Lie still, okay?" Dusty stroked his hair,
his cheek, unable to stop the tears falling on the collar of his
leather and trickling down his throat. "You're going to be okay.
Like you said, all bullet wounds aren't fatal. Just...just lie
still."

"You're getting my jacket wet," he said
faintly. Dusty smiled through her tears. He managed to smile
back.

"That's my girl," he whispered. The
ambulance pulled up behind Matt's squad car. She looked back down
at Shane. He coughed and coughed, something thickly congealed in
his chest, his throat. The paramedics were getting out.

"Ambulance is here, babe. They'll fix you
up. You'll be fine."

Shane coughed again, his mouth filling with
blood. Dusty wiped it away, whispering, "Oh, my god, oh, my god,"
over and over, unaware of the hot tears pooling at her throat and
running between her breasts.

"Dusty," he whispered. She looked across
him, helplessly, to Billy and Chris.

"You're gonna be a hero, man," Billy said
hoarsely, tears making tiny rivers down his face. "A real
hero."

"Yeah?" His voice was growing weaker, but he
sounded pleased.

"I love you," Dusty whispered through her
tears, past whatever had lodged in her throat. Hot tears fell on
him, wetting his shirt collar.

"I know," he said attempting a smile,
looking at her through half-closed eyes that were already beginning
to glaze over from shock. "I—"

"Shh, Shane, please," she whispered.
"Please, god, don't talk anymore. You'll be okay. You will, you
will," she said, trying to convince herself as much as reassure
him. She didn’t want to hear him say anything close to
‘goodbye.’

"Dusty," he said again, weaker, blood from
his mouth pooling at this throat, his voice hoarse with it. She
wiped at it helplessly.

She had to lean in close, so close, to hear
him, his voice choked with blood.

"I always loved you."

That was all.

Epilogue

—
taken from the Shadow
Hills Journal, November 7, 2006

By Mike Murphy

Larkspur Staff Writer

LARKSPUR--The perpetrator of the

Larkspur murders that have occurred in the
past few months has been found—again. It was reported earlier the
killer was a thirty pound bob-cat caught in the woods next to the
Clinton Grove

Cemetery. Peter Friedman, county coroner,
verified the teeth marks and hair samples matched, but apparently
was mistaken. Friedman was unavailable for comment.

The killer has been identified as Roy
Phillip Lewis, former Larkspur resident. Lewis was pronounced dead
on August 22, his body was placed in a family mausoleum. Lewis was
reportedly buried alive.

Roy's son, Sam Lewis, suffered a fatal
gunshot wound in an incident that occurred Sunday night in the
Clinton Grove Cemetery.

The teeth marks and hair samples found match
those of Roy Lewis. Neither the county coroner nor Sheriff Thompson
were available for comment.

—
Hand written letter from
Sam Lewis, written to Dusty Chandler, found in Lewis’ home tucked
inside a photo album marked “Mother.”

Dusty,

I’m writing this in hopes you can understand
what’s happened. You’re my friend, and I want you to know, to
understand, as I hope only you can.

I told you my mother died when I was a baby.
I never knew her, and I feel that loss deeply every day. She had a
profound belief in real magic, and my father…he was heartbroken
after she died. He couldn’t imagine life without her. He became
obsessed with death—with life after death. He traveled all over the
world, looking for ways to prolong life. Using everything he had
learned from her, he spent his life looking for the secret to
immortality.

And I think he found it.

The talisman I gave you came from Native
land, and the one he was buried with did too. It’s a hungry magic,
Dusty, and it feeds…it has to feed. For you, it just ate your
dreams. It was a good sort of magic. My father’s talisman was like
its dark twin, voracious, twisted.

My father wanted to live forever, and to do
that, he had to die first. I thought he was gone, but he came back
changed—a revenant—my father but not my father. I don’t know what
he did, how he did what he did, but he came back terrible,
horrible...

What else could I do?

He’s still my father. Dusty. In spite of
what he did, he’s still the only person in the world who ever
showed me any caring or kindness—until you came along. I don’t
understand how he came back—but he has come back, and he’s hungry,
Dusty. He won’t stop, and I don’t know how to stop him. If I don’t
feed him, he finds ways to feed himself.

What choice do I have, now?

I am going to try to end this tonight. I
think taking the talisman will be the only thing to stop him. I am
hoping it will end his suffering…and ours. And I am so very sorry
for yours, Dusty. So very sorry. Maybe this will be my redemption.
It’s all I can hope for now.

If it turns out badly, if you find this
letter…

I just wanted you to know that you were the
only one who ever made me feel whole and wanted. I will be grateful
for that, forever, no matter what.

I love you.

Sam

* * * *

“
I know who he
is.”

Dusty sat up suddenly from where her head
rested on the mattress at the hoarse sound of his voice, her hungry
eyes searching his face.

“
Shane?” she whispered,
squeezing the familiar hand she’d been holding for what felt like
days.

His eyes were still closed, but he spoke
again, his voice cracking. “He was the one…” He swallowed, his eyes
fluttering. “Dusty...?”

“
I’m here.” She moved so
he could see her and a flicker of a smile crossed his
face.

“
He was the guy I took on
that trip,” he croaked, his eyes closing again. “The one looking
for artifacts…”

Dusty blinked, frowning, hearing words that
would only make sense later, after Buck Thompson gave her the
letter addressed to her from Sam. Poor Sam, who had set out that
night to kill the man who had raised him and instead had found him
already dead.

She heard Shane’s words but didn’t care, not
paying attention at all to the content, caring only that Shane was
here, alive, conscious and actually talking to her after days of
silence and not knowing.

“
Shhh,” she murmured,
pressing her mouth against his ear, sobbing. “It doesn’t matter. I
love you. I love you so much.”

“
I’m not dead, then?” he
murmured.

She laughed through her tears. “Not unless
this is heaven.”

“
Must be.” He smiled,
whispering the words just before she kissed him and proved them
both right.

About the Author

Sheri Leigh writes addictive
fiction—her characters and stories are so compelling, you just
won’t want to put them down, and when you’re done, you’ll find
yourself jonesin’ for more. Don’t worry, she’ll keep writing…as
long as you keep reading!

Sheri lives with her husband and
children in the rural Midwest, and when she’s not clacking away at
the keyboard, she cheers on the Red Wings and tends an organic
garden. Her favorite things are sleeping in, thunderstorms,
sun-dried tomatoes, popping bubblewrap and she’s still mourning the
end of the Calvin and Hobbes comic strip.