by Cara Adams
He leaned over and grasped the dog’s collar. The last thing he wanted to do was to chase it over half of Junctionville again. “Come on, Buddy, or Fido, or whoever you are. Let’s move this meeting out of the sun.”
He saw Ny pick up the rattler by the tail and figured they’d be eating rattler chili for supper but was more interested in hearing the woman’s story. Since she hadn’t said anything yet, he held out his right hand to her. “I’m Damien Hall. Pleased to meet you.”
He heard Ny snort and Hunter snigger but waited until she shook his hand. Hers was hot, sweaty, and dusty, but also small and cute. Like her.
“Jasmine Picton. I’m usually called Jaz, and my dog is named Phideaux. Spelled with a P H, and an E A U X. He’d been named Fido by the shelter, but I wanted him to feel a bit more special than that without confusing him.”
He couldn’t help grinning at her words, but Hunter was nudging her back toward the gas station, so he walked along with them, leaving Ny to bring up the rear with the snake.
“I’m Hunter, and Nyander is the one with the gun. Why didn’t you pull into the gas station properly?”
“The car’s out of gas. It was rolling down the hill into your store, but the bump at the entry stopped it.”
“Didn’t you see all the signs back in town that said there was no gas or water for one hundred miles and to be sure to stock up?”
“Of course I did. I’m not blind. The gas gauge doesn’t work.” She turned around and faced them with her hands on her hips, the dog forgotten for the time being. Damien kept a tight grip on the collar in case the mutt—Phideaux—decided to take off again.
They trekked back to the gas station, and Damien said, “Why don’t you get the dog’s lead and go into the store out of the heat, and then Hunter and I’ll push your car over to the pumps and fill it up for you?”
She dived into the trunk of the car, which had at least two suitcases in it from what Damien could see, and emerged with the leash, which she clipped to Phideaux’s collar. “Let’s go get you some water, buddy. Thank you, Damien and Hunter, for looking after my car.”
Damien watched her attractive little butt disappear into the store, and noticed Ny had vanished as well, presumably to skin the snake.
“We forgot to ask for the car keys,” he said.
“No problem. They’re still in the ignition.”
“Likely that’s safe enough since the car doesn’t go right now,” he said.
“If it really won’t go. Let me try.” Hunter slid into the driver’s seat and cranked the engine, but nothing happened. He stood up again and held the steering wheel with one hand while putting his shoulder to the door pillar to help push. Damien went around to the trunk and gave the vehicle a good hard shove to get it out of the shallow gutter, and then it was an easy push over to the pumps.
A 2004 Chevy Malibu had a sixteen-gallon gas tank, from what he remembered. He leaned against the fender and watched as Hunter put almost sixteen and a half gallons into the car. “I guess it really was empty,” he said.
“Reckon so. The question is, will it start now?” Hunter got back into the driver’s seat and pumped the gas pedal three times. The engine coughed, choked, and then roared. Damien looked over his shoulder. “I’m on a bit of an angle here, but it looks like the fuel gauge is working now. It says full.”
“Yep. I’ll pull it over closer to the store.” Damien waited while Hunter did that, and then they walked inside into the blessed cool of the air conditioning. Forest handed them each a mug of ice water. Damien drank his straight down, and Forest gave him a second one. Jaz was sitting at a table by the window, the dog at her feet. In front of her was a frosty-cold bottle of iced tea, half consumed. The dog’s water dish was almost empty, and the mutt was licking his lips.
“Your car is all gassed up now, and it started just fine,” said Hunter.
“The gas gauge showed full, so it’s working again, too,” added Damien.
Jaz shook her head. Some of her short brown curls bounced jauntily, but the rest of her hair was still stuck to her face and head with sweat. Still, she was smiling now, and her brown eyes were bright and happy.
“It says full all the time. That’s how I didn’t realize I should have filled the gas tank back at the last town I passed through. Usually when I tap the gauge, it unsticks and moves to the correct place. I’d tapped it a couple of times, and it didn’t move, but it wasn’t until I thought about it, after I was a long way out of that last town, that I worked out it must have broken and I couldn’t be getting such good mileage per gallon.”
“Are you on deadline? Hunter and I could take a look at it for you. We’re both mechanics.”
She stared at him. “Mechanics? Way out here? Amazing.”
Damien’s heart beat faster at the friendly smile on her face. Damn she was cute. Even with sweaty hair and a huge dog at her feet, he wanted to snatch her out of her chair and kiss her.
“Machinery breaks down anywhere. It’ll take us an hour or so to pull it out, clean it, and put it back. Are you good to wait?”
“Sure. I’ll eat a snack and then take Phideaux for a walk.”
She must have noticed his frown because she quickly added, “On the leash.”
He and Hunter headed back out to the garage, but he said, “She’ll never manage to keep hold of the lead if that pooch decides to run off.”
“Yeah, I know. Still, maybe he’ll choose to obey her if there isn’t a rattler nearby.”
It was true they didn’t see all that many snakes so close to the house and store. The snakes preferred to stay away from the noise and bustle of people. The rodents and small birds they ate were usually found away from human habitation, so that’s where the snakes tended to live as well.
His stated time for the job of an hour would have been accurate except that, when they pulled the gas gauge apart, they found a section wasn’t just dirty, but broken.
“Now what do we do?” he asked Hunter. They could slide the gas gauge back into place still broken and send her on her way to the next large town, where she could likely get a part inside the hour. Or they could take several hours and make a part that would work, even though it would never be approved by the Chevrolet manufacturer. Still, on a car this old, ten years or so, that wasn’t much of a consideration.
“The real problem is that if we make a fix likely it’ll be dark by the time we’re done,” said Hunter.
“There are plenty of spare rooms in the house. Don’t you still keep a couple made up ready for unexpected guests? Your parents always did.”
Hunter wiped his hands on a piece of rag. “Yes, the two guest rooms are always kept ready and waiting. Yuchi makes sure they’re always fresh and nice. I think Jasmine’s cute. I’d like to get to know her better.”
Damien’s heart beat faster. He and Hunter had talked about sharing a woman if they ever found one. The Supreme Alpha of werewolves for North America had approved werewolves sharing a woman a year or more ago, so werewolf ménages were possible. Although Damien wasn’t a wolf, Hunter was, and Damien was happy enough to share a woman with his good friend. It wasn’t as though there were many women out here. Homes in the desert were few and far between, and he hated the city. There were plenty of women in the city, but he didn’t plan to live there even to find a woman. His home was here, in the desert.
“I think she’s cute, too, but it isn’t going to be possible to woo her in a few hours. Besides, she might have a husband or boyfriend she’s on her way to meet right now, even though she isn’t wearing rings. She’s certainly going somewhere. I saw two suitcases in the trunk of her car.”
“She’s here now. In our town. Practically in my house. We should offer to phone the manufacturer and suggest she wait here for a part. It’ll take about the same time to get here as to get to town anyway. And while she’s here, there’s nothing to stop us getting to know her better. Much, much, much better.”
“Uh-huh. And if she’s in a rush to get somewhere
else?”
“We talk her out of it.” Hunter spoke firmly.
Damien grinned. “That sounds good to me.”
Chapter Two
When she was traveling, Jaz usually stopped at a park and threw a ball to Phideaux to give him the opportunity to run off some energy. He was a big dog and needed lots of exercise. When they’d lived in their old home, they’d regularly gone on real runs together, but now that she was constantly on the move, that was a lot harder to organize on a regular basis. Besides, here in the desert it was too hot to run.
However, right now his ball was on the backseat of the car somewhere, and there was no way she was picking up a stick to throw to him in case it was another snake. So she kept hold of his lead and they walked decorously out to a pile of rocks maybe a quarter of a mile into the desert and in clear view of the gas station so she couldn’t possibly get lost.
She scrambled up to stand on top of the rocky outcrop, Phideaux beside her, resting against her leg. She petted his head as she looked all around.
“It’s kind of pretty, I guess, with all the different colors in the dirt and sand and rock, but it’s very barren. The only trees anywhere near here are around the store. I guess that means there’s not much water here for them to grow. Although I’m sure someone told me that even in the desert there’s always water if you dig down. Maybe it’s too far down or there’s no one around here to dig.”
Phideaux just stared at her, his tongue hanging out.
Once again she stroked his head and sighed. “I guess we’d better go back. The car should be ready soon, and we’ll stop at the next town for the night, even if they don’t have a cemetery.”
Phideaux barked. He recognized the word cemetery, likely because they’d been visiting dozens of them over the past few months. Jaz shrugged her shoulders. She had the world’s craziest job, and it didn’t pay much more than minimum wage, but they did reimburse her for her gas, and she got a three hundred dollar bonus every time she located a cemetery that wasn’t already on the Cemetery Trust’s records.
The other woman hired at the same time as her spent her days sitting at a desk trawling through websites and local histories looking for lost cemeteries. Jaz could have done that as well, but she thought the ones that were lost would be more likely to be located in small towns that had barely dipped their toes into the online world. Ghost towns, tiny towns, towns a long way from anywhere else, where the people didn’t care about an online presence.
So she’d given notice at her apartment, told Goodwill to collect her tenth-hand furniture, and packed her dog and her possessions into her Chevy and set off to visit isolated communities. Her gamble was paying off, too. When she found a neglected cemetery, she spent a day or two talking to the local community. Almost invariably someone would direct her to another small town where there was a potential cemetery for her list. Since her gas was covered by the Cemetery Trust, as long as she found two cemeteries a month, she earned enough to keep Phideaux in kibble as well as feed herself.
Besides, it was a like a never-ending vacation, always moving on somewhere new, seeing new scenery, meeting new people. She camped in national parks that permitted dogs, cooked over a campfire, and swam in lakes and rivers. It was fun. Not exactly a forever way of life, but as an open-ended paying vacation, it was perfect.
It was still hot, but Jaz knew Phideaux needed the exercise, so they ran back toward the gas station. She slowed to a walk once they got close, aware of how sweaty her T-shirt was from the day’s activities. The first thing she needed to do when she reached a town was have a shower. Or maybe there was somewhere to camp not far from here. That would be even better. Camping was cheaper than staying in town.
She looked into the garage, but, although her car was there, none of the men were with it. She turned and walked to the store again, but the man there was one she’d seen before but whose name she didn’t know.
“Hi, Jaz. I’ll tell Hunter you’re back.”
Instead of sending a text message, as she’d expected, he walked out the back of the store somewhere, and she could hear him yelling, “Hunter!”
It was nineteenth century communication, but it still worked. Hunter and Damien arrived fast.
“Hey, Jaz. The gas gauge on your car is broken.”
“You need to get a replacement.”
“Would you like us to order one in for you?”
“It’ll likely take two or three days to arrive.”
The two men spoke one after the other without waiting for her to collect her breath. Well fuck. That was an expense she didn’t want or need. But, on the other hand, she did need a working gas gauge. Today had shown her that pretty dramatically.”
“Are there any old, neglected cemeteries around here?”
“What?”
“Are you a vampire?” asked Damien.
* * * *
Hunter had prepared several good arguments to convince Jaz to stay the night with them. He’d checked with his youngest brother, Yuchi, that the guest room was ready for her, and he and Damien had both showered and gotten changed. Damien hadn’t had time to go to his own house, so he was wearing one of Hunter’s T-shirts and a pair of Hunter’s brother Hawk’s jeans.
He’d thought Jaz might ask the price of the new gauge, and he was prepared to do the labor for free to keep her here longer. What he hadn’t expected was for her to ask about a cemetery. A cemetery for fuck’s sake.
Fortunately she was giggling at Damien’s question.
“Of course not. I’d be fried to a crisp in this sunshine if I was a vampire.”
Suddenly he realized she might be mourning a departed loved one and that they weren’t being very sympathetic. Immediately he wiped the grin off his face and said quietly, “I’m sorry. Has someone you’re close to passed away recently?”
But she smiled at him. “No, nothing like that. My job is looking for lost cemeteries.”
“How can a cemetery be lost?” asked Damien.
“Yeah. I’d like to know that, too.”
“I’m employed by the Cemetery Trust to locate cemeteries that aren’t on their official list. Ones that haven’t updated their records for years and aren’t in the database. I go around looking in small towns for cemeteries that haven’t been updated and get them added to the Cemetery Trust’s paperwork. So, are there any like that nearby?”
Hunter shrugged. He really didn’t have any idea. “The only cemetery anywhere around here is the Junctionville one. Is that on the list?”
“I don’t know, but I can check it out. My car is still drivable, right? As long as I’m careful not to go too far and run out of gas? How far away is the cemetery?”
“Ten miles maybe? Damien and I can come with you and help you find it. It’s off the main road.”
“Meanwhile, shall we order in a new gas gauge for you?” asked Damien.
“I don’t really have a choice, do I? I guess so. How much is it going to cost me?”
“We’ll give you a discount on the labor. I’ll order it now, and then I can tell you how much it’ll cost and when it’ll arrive.”
Hunter made the call and heard her asking Damien about whether or not camping was allowed in their area. He wondered if she usually camped while looking for cemeteries. What a weird job. He’d never heard of anything like it before.
“There are guest rooms here in the house for people who are stranded in Junctionville. You’d be most welcome to stay here,” said Damien.
Hunter heard Jaz reply in a happy voice and then concentrated on his call.
Of course the Chevy dealership in town was closed now, but he knew the owner so was able to order the part anyway. That was the advantage of living in the desert. Everyone knew everyone else. Living was communal and cooperative because sooner or later anyone might need help out here. The desert was a harsh environment and completely unforgiving. But it was also a place of incredible beauty. Hunter had never considered living anywhere else.
“That’s
all sorted. Let’s go and collect your luggage, and then I’ll show you to the guest room.”
“Ny’s cooking snake chili for supper. It’s delicious. You’ll love it.”
Phideaux barked, and they all laughed. Hunter wondered if the dog sensed a kindred spirit in them because of their werewolf side. Not only wasn’t he snarling or showing any sign of being unhappy around them, he seemed to positively accept them. That was good news as well.
Damien said, “I guess he can have some, too. Does he like chili?”
“Of course. Apart from his dry food, he pretty much eats whatever I’m eating.”
Hunter and Damien walked over to the garage, and he handed her back her car keys. He and Damien had closed the windows and locked the car, although the likelihood of anyone stealing anything out here was very small. Most people pulled into the gas station instead of going past, and there was an electronic touch pad beside each gas pump that rang a bell inside the house. Even if they were all asleep, the bell would wake him up for sure.
Jaz took a backpack off the backseat, slinging it over her shoulders and locked the car again. The car was so old she had to push down a button to lock it.
“Oh yeah. I’m surprised central locking wasn’t mandatory on that model even in 2004,” said Damien.
“I think this car was the bottom of the range. But it suits me fine and goes great.”
“Sorry, I wasn’t meaning to be rude about your wheels.”
Hunter patted the fender as they stepped out of the garage. This time he and Damien pulled down the roller door and locked it. Once again, likely it was unnecessary and not something they bothered to do all the time. Hopefully they’d be spending all day tomorrow with Jasmine, not working, so a closed roller door would let the local community know that the garage was shut for the day. If anyone really needed them, they’d stop at the gas station anyway, and Forest would call them.
Hunter led the way into the house and showed her the guest room and then pointed to the guest bathroom, which was opposite her bedroom. Then he waved his arm down the hallway and said, “When you’re ready, come and join us in the kitchen.”
