Night Falls on the Wicked (6 page)

Nothing stirred out there in the vast whiteness of the town, and she began to wonder if she’d heard the scream at all. Or had it been in her head, a wisp of a nightmare? Maybe tonight’s run hadn’t been enough protection, after all.

Surely there’d be light from other windows along the street if it had been real. Mr. Gilberry, the barber across the street, lived in his shop. How could he have slept through that terrible sound? There had
to be someone else concerned, curious. Someone …

And then she saw him, a shadowy figure out late on a night when everyone else remained warm indoors, snug and safe. When every other soul was in bed, this figure was strolling the sidewalk with a steady, purposeful pace, as if waiting for someone. Or something.

As though he felt her stare, he stopped and turned. His gaze swung up, directly to her window and into her eyes. A small shiver rushed over her. Her chest grew tight, her breath hard to catch. Instantly, she knew him.

Even across the distance his eyes glowed. She felt those indigo eyes like a stroke, a touch against her shivery skin.

Before she had a chance to turn from the window and pretend she didn’t notice him, a distant howl floated on the air. Others joined in, the sound awful and eerie.

She tried to peer down the far length of the street to the single blinking stoplight. She didn’t know what she expected to see. Wolves parading down the street? The cries were coming from somewhere outside town, much farther away. With another shiver, she looked again to where the stranger stood.

But he was gone.

M
ore loggers than usual crowded the diner and Darby seriously doubted it was Sam’s meatloaf special that lured them in. It was obvious why they were here. The third attack in a month, and this time it was Corey.

No one ate at Sam’s who didn’t know Corey. She’d been working in the diner since high school. She grew up here. Ironically enough, her death only brought in more customers—as though the diner itself were the scene of the crime. Maggie and Darby could hardly keep up with the orders. Even with all the running she did, she was breathless as she wove between tables.

Corey was the subject on everyone’s lips, snatches of conversation filling Darby’s ears. She shivered as she recalled her last glimpse of Corey skipping down her porch steps, heading out on her date. And then she shivered again as she recalled
how
she had died. Or at least how people were saying she died.

Corey’s body had been found just outside of town. Or rather what was left of her body. The explanation for her slaughter was obvious to everyone. Wolves. What else could it be? What else could have done such damage?

Only Darby wasn’t convinced. Darby knew there were other things out there … things that did not bear simple explanation.

From the rumble of conversation, she gathered that many of the loggers had abandoned the camps, angry and refusing to return until the wolf threat was “handled.”

Darby hurried from table to table, refilling glasses and making sure everyone had what they needed and avoiding pointed questions about Corey. She had no answers to give anyway. And the theory that was starting to form in her head would only get her tossed in a padded room.

She knew she should be grateful for the crowd. The extra tip money was always needed, especially as she was preparing to move on again, but the crowd was a strain. So many people, so many voices. All of it threatened to undo her, to break down her walls, weaken her for a demon’s possession.

Her thoughts whirred in her head, mingling with the buzz of the crowded diner. She wished she could just take cover from it all.

She’d give anything for a run, for the steady rhythm of her legs pounding the earth, exorcising her of all troubling thoughts. Maybe after work. She winced and looked out at the diner again, her gaze roaming the full tables. Not likely tonight. Unless she was up for a one a.m. run.

This thought made her shiver again and slide a glance toward the open blinds. Still light out, but it would be a full moon tonight. She wasn’t crazy enough to take a midnight jog on a full moon. Even before bodies started turning up, she possessed a healthy respect for those three nights a month when the moon was full.

The door chimed the entrance of more customers and she almost groaned. There was hardly a table left.

She stopped, her mouth drying as she faced the stranger.
Her stranger
.

Calling herself an idiot for thinking of him in such terms, she motioned to the counter and a vacant stool. “Have a seat. Be with you in a second.”

From the corner of her eye, she watched as he moved to the counter and settled his lean frame on a stool with easy movements.

“What time you get off, Darby?”

Darby winced, regretting the name tag that let everyone think they could use her name like they were old friends.

“I don’t know. We’re busy tonight,” she replied to a barrel-chested guy who breathed heavily from his mouth. She’d seen him in here several times, though she couldn’t remember his name. His interest in her wasn’t innocent like the others’. His comments weren’t teasing or cajoling. Heavy Breather had dark, empty eyes. She doubted he’d ever had a woman in his life whom he treated with any measure of respect or kindness.

As though to confirm this suspicion, he snatched hold of her wrist as she was collecting his glass for a refill. “How come you never look me in the eye?”

“Come on, let’s not do this,” she murmured, fighting to keep the edge from her voice. “We’ve had kind of a rough day around here.”

He ignored her request. “I’m paying for good service, right?”

“You’re paying for a meal. I’m just here to see you get it.” Not the most gracious reply, but Sam never complained about her service before, and her boss’s opinion was the only one that mattered to her right now. And if he objected to her attitude, she’d be leaving in a few weeks anyway. Maybe that was making her feel bold.

His dinner companion chuckled. “She told you, Ned.”

Ned flushed red.

“Yeah, not so quiet and shy, is she?” His friend shook his head with mirth.

“No, she’s not. Guess she’s just plain dumb.” Ned tugged her closer. “You know that’s what everyone says. That you’re just a little simple here.” He tapped his head right at the temple. “That true? You some retard? Maybe that explains your lack of manners?”

Heat surged through her at his insulting words. “And is that how you get your kicks?” She angled her head. “I mean, if I’m mentally deficient? Does giving a ‘retard’ a hard time make you feel like a man?”

His friend hooted and tossed back his head. “Bam! She got you there again!”

Darby twisted her wrist, trying to break free. Ned clung tighter than ever, his face flushing a purply red and his breathing falling even harder. “Well, aren’t you the smart one after all?”

“Ah, let her go,” Ned’s friend reprimanded. “You’re scaring her.”

Ned smiled and she knew that’s what he wanted. What would satisfy him. He was that rare breed of man that thrived on intimidation and fear.

“Let her go.”

She recognized the deep, cultured tones before she swung a look over her shoulder.
Ah, hell
. A shudder rippled through her. She didn’t need him
to come to her rescue. She had the situation under control.

The diner quieted—a real feat considering the number of people talking and eating. The clank of glass and silverware stopped. Any moment Sam would poke his head out from the kitchen and then the shit would really hit the fan. He might not mind her less-than-friendly attitude with the customers, but it had never threatened the flow of business before. Sam was a businessman, hoping to retire in the next couple of years. Even he had his limits. She winced. She might be leaving town sooner than planned.

“It’s nothing,” she growled and motioned him away. “Go away. Sit back down. I’ll get to you in a minute.”

“He a friend of yours?” Ned demanded.

“No,” she replied. That much was true. She didn’t even know his name. “Just a customer. Now let me go. I have a job to do.”

He released her and rose to his feet, his chair falling back with a crash. “Who are you? You new to these parts? Don’t recall I’ve ever seen you before.”

“Who I am is unimportant.”

“Aw, Ned. Sit down.” Maggie arrived at Darby’s side to chastise. “No need to get your feathers ruffled. You haven’t even had dessert yet. We’ve
got blueberry pie. On the house. I know it’s your favorite. You want whip cream?”

“Yeah, Ned, sit down and stop stirring trouble,” someone called out from across the diner.

The vein in Ned’s forehead throbbed. He glanced around, a wild look in his dark, moist eyes as he realized the tide was against him.

With a grunt, he dropped back down in his chair.

Maggie squeezed Darby’s arm and whispered for her ears alone. “Go on, honey. I’ll finish up at this table.”

Darby nodded jerkily, bitter resentment filling her throat. “I could have handled it,” she muttered as she passed the stranger, careful to keep a safe distance. He smelled good. Clean and piney like the outdoors.

She strode behind the counter and faced him as he reclaimed his stool. The normal sounds of a busy diner resumed as she reached for her pad. She stared down at the paper, intent on not meeting his stare. After yesterday, she knew the mistake that would be.

“What will you have tonight, sir?”

A heavy pause, and then, “I didn’t mean to upset you. You just looked like you could use some help.”

She breathed through her nose. “I’m not upset,”
she said tightly. “Now. What will you have tonight, sir.”
Keep it casual. Don’t engage.

A long moment passed until he finally answered her. “What’s good, Darby?” The question fell evenly, mildly, as if he spoke her name all the time. As if they were old friends in the midst of a conversation.
Stupid name tag.

Her gaze snapped up. Too late, she was caught in the snare of his eyes. They weren’t quite glowing. Not like yesterday. But they were still that deep, mesmerizing indigo that sucked her in. Such an impossible color. She couldn’t look away.

“Tonight’s special is meatloaf.”

“And that’s what you recommend?”

She paused. “Stick with the cheeseburger. The meatloaf’s hit-or-miss and I haven’t heard anyone raving about it tonight.”

“Sounds good. I’ll have that cheeseburger, Darby.”

She swallowed. A shiver scraped her skin at the way he said her name, his accents softening it, rolling the
r
. She could love hearing that every day.

Sucking in a breath, she scribbled down his order and turned away. Even when she realized she forgot to ask after his drink, she didn’t go back. Not yet. Not until she managed to get a moment for herself. She needed to brace herself before returning to the trap of his eyes.

She turned in his order and seized a waiting tray of food. She worked automatically, like something cold, a robot without thought and emotion, a simply functioning machine, performing the tasks she’d done now thousands of times over the last three years. And she told herself it was enough.

It was surviving.

She didn’t let herself consider the emptiness of that thought. The alternative was pain. Death and misery. Not simply to herself but to untold others.

She didn’t need the distraction sitting at the counter, the man that screamed danger despite the fact that he had helped her out tonight.
When was he leaving?

He exuded danger—that was the promise she read in his deep gaze. He tempted her with a break from the emptiness, an escape from her numbing life. In his eyes, she
felt
again and knew that the rush of sensation, hot and cold, good and bad, was not far behind.

She saw his order waiting at the window and stared bleakly at the plate of food that meant her return to him. Taking the plate, she faced the diner, intent on dropping it in front of him and running. Customer service be damned.

“Now that’s a feast for the eyes,” Maggie said as she came up beside her with a tub of dishes.

“Who?” Darby asked with deliberate vagueness as Maggie poured two coffees.

She snorted. “As if you don’t know. He’s the reason you’re acting all jittery.”

“I’m not. Just on edge. Like everyone else.”

Maggie sobered. “I’m sad about Corey, too, but don’t go blaming some guy because you’re upset about Corey. Honey, we’re all devastated, but it’s times like these when we especially need the comfort of others. Especially when the guy looks that damn good.”

Darby lowered her gaze, feeling Maggie’s accusation keenly. “He’s no one. Just some guy passing through.”

Maggie gave a throaty laugh. “Honey, don’t you know? Sometimes those are the best types.”

Darby paused, thinking, processing this as she observed him reading the local paper, no doubt poring over the details—few as they were—of Corey’s slaughter.

She considered Maggie’s words and the possible truth in them. Whoever he was, he wasn’t from around here. Which meant he wouldn’t be staying. So why should she worry so much about him?

He looked up from the paper as she set his plate down in front of him, sliding the ketchup bottle within reach.

“Looks good.”

She started to move away but found herself pausing.

He looked at her so intently that there was no way she could move in that moment. He took a bite, chewing slowly, his jaw working.

“Good,” he announced, staring at her though, as if he were talking about something else. Not food.

He wiped his mouth with a napkin before tapping the paper with a blunt-tipped finger. “Guess killing those wolves didn’t take care of the problem, huh?”

“No,” she answered slowly as he took another healthy bite of his burger. Just watching him eat fascinated her. “It didn’t. Too bad for Corey.”

“Knew her?” he asked.

“Yes. She worked here.” She shrugged awkwardly, uncomfortable revealing how affected she was by Corey’s death.

He nodded. “I read that in the paper.”

“She left a little boy behind.”

“That’s a shame. Life—” He paused, groping for the right words. He just shook his head. “Life is hard.”