“I need to know why you’re here.”
I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t.
“Join the club.” I giggled. Why are you giggling? What is wrong with you? This man is going to re-kill you!
“I’m not in the mood for games. Are you saying you have no idea who dug you out of the grave?”
“Well, technically, I pulled myself out of the grave. But I don’t know how it’s possible for me to be a living dead girl.” I gulped nervously. “What are you going to do to me?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
That didn’t sound too promising.
“Why did you take me?” I tried again but he didn’t answer. “Please,” I begged. “I haven’t done anything wrong. If you’re looking for answers, they aren’t going to come from me. I’ve been trying to find out myself.”
“By watching Crime Scene all day?” I thought I heard a bit of amusement in his voice.
“It gets boring at the house alone,” I retorted defensively.
“And it gets boring watching you at the house all day,” he shot back. His voice had turned from mean to playful. I liked his flirty tone, even though I shouldn’t.
“So the weird noises, the open door; it was you?” I asked tentatively.
“I really shouldn’t be talking to you. I have a job to do.” His icy demeanor was back in a flash. I tensed up.
“Whatever it is, please make it painless.”
“I thought you didn’t feel pain?”
“Er, I don’t, but I have a suspicion that if anyone can find a way around that, it might be you.”
“I’m just here to do a job. It’s a personal preference of mine to ensure that the ‘information’ I was provided about the job is accurate. And to do that, I’m going to need to keep you here for surveillance for today and throughout the night.”
“Is surveillance code for torture?”
He laughed. “No, surveillance is code for surveillance. If you promise to be good, I’ll untie you.”
“Oh, and if you promise to be good and then you betray me, I will kill you,” he added as an afterthought.
Something about the tone of his voice told me that he had a way to kill an already dead girl. I didn’t want to find out what that was.
“I promise,” I whispered.
He walked purposefully over to the chair. For what I guessed was to illustrate his sheer physical power, he broke the thick, knotted ropes that bound my hands and feet with his bare hands.
I stretched my arms and legs. “Can I stand up, please?”
“Yeah, go ahead. The door is locked. I have the key and as you can see there are no windows. Walk around. Knock yourself out.”
The room was long and mostly unfurnished. There was a small bed in the corner, and two more high-backed chairs like the one I had been bound to. The man watched as I walked the length of the room.
“So, what do you know about me?” I prodded.
“Aurora Stone. Sixteen years old when you died last summer. Resurrected from the dead exactly one year to the day of your death. And by what I gathered from our previous conversation, you are as clueless as I am as to why you’re back.”
“That sums it up,” I whispered. “How do you know so much about me?”
He laughed. “You’re quite popular in certain circles.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“Not really.”
I sighed and sat back down in my chair. “Are you going to take that hood off? It’s kind of creeping me out. Are you scared I’ll run and blab about what you look like? Or have you got some weird Phantom of the Opera thing going on?”
In response, he pulled the hood back and smiled. “That’s true. I doubt many people would believe a dead girl.”
I had to stop myself from gasping. Judging from his height and voice, I had thought he must be an old man, at least 25 or 30. But the person before me looked closer to my age! He had thick jet-black hair, a sharp jaw line, ghostly pale skin, and piercing eyes so dark they looked black. I was momentarily at a loss for words. He made Michael England look like Screech!
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to stare?” His face was stern but his eyes were smiling.
“I, I’m sorry.” I was stuttering again. This was too late in life to develop a speech disorder. I had to get it together. “I didn’t expect you to be so young,” I admitted. Or so hot, I added silently. “How old are you, anyway?”
“Older than I look. You could say I’ve…aged well.”
I knew by now better than to keep pressing for more info on these vague answers. “What’s your name?” I changed the subject.
“Lucas.”
Even his name is sexy!
“Cool,” I said. Lame, Aurora.
Surely this Greek god lookalike wasn’t really capable of killing me. “Are you still thinking about sending me back to the grave?” I blurted out.
“We’ll see,” was all Lucas would say.
The minutes ticked by and slowly turned into hours. I knew Henry must be wondering where I was. I hoped he didn’t go digging up the grave to look for me.
As nighttime approached, like clockwork, I felt the strange sensation that started in my forehead, the imminent sign that one of my blackouts was coming. It was one thing when it happened at Henry’s house. I trusted him with my life, and besides, he was such a heavy sleeper he hadn’t even noticed anything out of the ordinary.
It reminded me of when I had my wisdom teeth out last year; they gave me the drug to knock me out and told me to count backwards from 100. I didn’t remember counting. I didn’t even remember feeling sleepy. But suddenly the surgery was over.
As the head pain got more intense, I tried to fight it. But it was useless.
Chapter 10
And then it was morning. I assumed it was morning, because I was up. No memory of the time between when I first got that funny-head feeling and now. I was no longer in the chair (my last memory) but instead sitting curled up in the corner of the room. Lucas was standing in the opposite corner, looking at me.
“Time to go,” he said.
“What happened?” I asked.
“I have what I need. Now I’m taking you home.”
“No,” I said irritably. “I didn’t ask what was going to happen. I asked what happened!”
“Don’t make me take you to Henry’s house the same way I brought you here.”
I followed Lucas silently outside. He didn’t try to blind fold me or conceal anything about the location. Looking over my shoulder, I took note of where I had just spent the night. From the outside, it looked like a small house; it even had what appeared to be windows with curtains. No one passing by would ever guess that inside was simply one dank, square room.
He pointed to a beat up Sedan. “I won’t make you get in the trunk, but I can’t let anyone see you with me either. There’s a blanket in the back seat. Lie down and I’ll drape that over you.”
I did what he asked without protest.
We didn’t speak on the way to Henry’s house. Lucas stopped the car 2 blocks away. “This is as far as I take you.”
“But what if someone I know sees me!” I argued.
“Here, take this.” Lucas handed me a black pullover hoodie. I wriggled into it, still lying down across the back seats.
“I look ridiculous!” I exclaimed. The arms hung almost a foot past the tips of my fingers and the bottom of the hoodie was well past my knees.
“Just walk quickly. Sprint if you can,” Lucas growled. And without so much as a goodbye, he sped off.
Chapter 11
I walked slowly back towards Henry’s house, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Lucas had made a point to say more than once that he’d kidnapped me in order to watch me. But what is he watching for? Why are all the men in my life so secretive? First Henry, and now Lucas.
They were the only two people that I’d had contact with since I was resurrected, and I had a sinking suspicion tha
t both knew more than they’d let on. Henry still refused to tell me how I died, despite my not-so-subtle hints over the past few days. He continued to change the subject, and more recently, physically get up and leave the room when I started asked questions.
And Lucas was a completely different mystery. He obviously thought I came back to earth for some sinister purpose, and the worst part is he could be right! I had been trying not to think about the stories that Henry had told me. Man comes back from the dead and brutally murders his entire family. Woman crawls out of her grave. Everything is peachy for a couple of weeks, until she goes berserk and murders everyone in the village.
There was no way I was going to tell Henry about my weird blackouts. He assumed I was sleeping and that was fine with me.
I was almost to Henry’s house when I realized I didn’t have a key. Crap!
I knew it was a bad idea, but my house was just another few blocks past Henry’s. Mom used to keep a key hidden in one of the potted plants outside. Surely it wouldn’t hurt just to check out my old room, see what they had done with the place since I died?
Before I could talk myself out of it, I started jogging towards home. Mom and Dad would be at work and Kayla at school. And I was under strict orders not to leave Henry’s house during the day, so this would be my only opportunity.
I could see my house in the distance. A wave of nostalgia washed over me. I slowed to a walk and pulled the hood onto my head, just in case there was anyone around. It would be disastrous if someone recognized me.
It was a modest house; nothing like Henry’s, but plenty of room for four people. There were so many good memories in that house. Mom and Dad worked a lot, but they made up for it on the weekends. Up until a few years before I died, we had a weekly Saturday night family night. I can’t believe I used to complain about spending Saturday nights with my family instead of my friends, I thought sadly.
I stopped at the entrance, peering up at my room. Old room, rather. I probably shouldn’t just stand here. What if the neighbors see me? Mrs. Brewer next door was a real busy body. Who’d have ever thought that old bat would outlive me?
Two potted plants were on each side of the doorframe. The ceramic pot had a curved lip with a small ridge on the underside. I ran my fingers along the bottom of the lip. Success! My hand connected with the key. Good old predictable Mom. I smiled.
With the key securely in my grip, I walked quickly to the entrance on the side of the house. Phew, no cars in the driveway.
My hands were shaking like crazy. It took three tries to unlock the door, which swung open silently. I walked into the kitchen, feeling like I was in some weird dream. Everything looked exactly as I remembered it. I was surprised to see piles of dishes in the sink. Mom would never let us get away with leaving a mess like that.
Even though it was technically still my home, I felt like I was intruding. I decided to go see my room and then get out of there.
I headed for the stairs. My bedroom was the first room on the right. The door was shut. I used to have posters and stickers covering the outside, but now it was bare. I guess it was too hard for them to have a constant reminder.I wonder if they’ve left if the same inside?
You were always hearing how parents who lost children would keep the room intact, like some weird shrine. Supposedly that was unhealthy. Mom always wanted a room to do her painting, I mused. Maybe she decided to make over my room for herself.
My hand had just connected with the doorknob when I heard it: someone was talking. I wasn’t alone in the house.
I stood, paralyzed by fear and panic. Think! I strained to hear the voice. It was Kayla. Her bedroom was farther down the hall on the opposite side. What is she doing home from school?
I could see her door was partially open. Leave! my mind was screaming. But I couldn’t help myself. I pressed my body flat along the wall and scooted towards her room, trying to be completely silent. When I reached the doorframe, the distinctive smell of tobacco filled my nostrils. What the hell?
Slowly, I leaned away from the wall, trying to position myself to see through the gap in the open door. There was Kayla, standing at the window with her back to me. She was on her iPhone, talking animatedly, and in her right hand was a lit cigarette. Oh my God! When did she start smoking? Mom and Dad are going to flip.
Don’t get me wrong; I’m sure all parents strive to stress the importance of not smoking. But my mom was absolutely insane about it. When she was in her early 20s, she had lost her own mother to lung cancer. She went ballistic if we were even so much as exposed to second-hand smoke.
But that wasn’t the only thing about Kayla that floored me. I hadn’t gotten a good look at her when I saw my family at the cemetery. Now, I could clearly see that she had dyed her beautiful chestnut brown hair black with purple streaks.
And her clothes! She had on a plaid miniskirt that barely covered her butt. If my dad had seen it, he’d have banned Kayla from leaving the house. Her skimpy outfit coupled with her growth spurt made her look closer to my age than thirteen. I couldn’t believe it.
I jerked back as Kayla turned from the window. “Yeah, they are so clueless,” she said. “We should ditch class and meet up with Barry and Greg tomorrow, too.” She laughed. “They didn’t have any idea about our real ages.”
I was dumbfounded. What has happened to my little sister?
Suddenly, I felt like I had to get out of that house or I was going to march right in there and confront Kayla, demanding to know why she was ruining her life.
Being careful not to make any noise, I went back downstairs and out the front door as quickly as possible, barely remembering to replace the key in the potted plant. I ran all the way back to Henry’s house without looking behind me even once.
Chapter 12
I was sitting in the garage when Henry got home. “Where have you been?” he demanded. “I’ve been going crazy since I got home yesterday and you weren’t here. What the hell happened?”
“I’ll tell you but I have to warn you it’s pretty crazy,” I said wryly.
“It can’t be any crazier than anything else that’s happened this past week,” he retorted.
We went into the house and I filled Henry in on yesterday’s events, carefully omitting any reference to Lucas’ buff physique. I didn’t want Henry to know I was more than a little attracted to my kidnapper, and if I described Lucas in too much detail he would surely pick up on it.
“So after you woke up, he just brought you back?” Henry looked incredulous.
“Yep,” I replied. I had fibbed and said I was so exhausted that I ended up sleeping a little for part of the night. I had to figure out what was going on with these blackouts before I told Henry about them. Besides, I rationalized, he really doesn’t need one more thing to worry about.
“Were you afraid you were never going to see me again?” I asked Henry, deciding to change the subject from my weird overnight adventure.
“I was scared that whatever brought you back decided that it was a mistake,” Henry admitted. “I’ve been doing a ton of research.”
I looked at him warily. “I really can’t hear more accounts of how I’ll probably go ape-shit and tear everyone around me to shreds.”
“No, no, it’s nothing like that,” Henry assured me. “I was terrified that you had been sent back to the grave. I actually briefly contemplated digging it up to check, but I really didn’t want to go down that route.” He shuddered.
“What I found out,” Henry continued, “is that a lot of people believe this type of resurrection is for a reason.”
“What do you mean?”
“I know we were both freaked out by the stories, thinking the worst. But there are theories that dead people are brought back for something epic. They’re even worshipped.”
“So I could become a cult leader?”
Henry grinned. “I wasn’t going to say that. Like a sign that something is about to happen, like a war or end of days, and that you’re going to be an
integral part of it.”
“I guess that’s better than going on a killing spree,” I said slowly. “You’re saying whoever – or whatever – brought me back needs me for something?”
Henry nodded.
“Interesting.” So if something epic were about to happen, which side would I be fighting for?
Chapter 13
Since all I did was hang around Henry’s house, I hadn’t minded wearing his clothes day in and day out. But when Lucas invited me to dinner, I knew baggy shorts and a wife beater weren’t going to cut it.
The invitation had taken me completely by surprise. Even though I knew next to nothing about Lucas, I hadn’t been able to get him out of my mind. I would imagine running my hands through his hair, tracing his sharp jawline with my fingers, how his soft lips would feel against mine.
But I hadn’t heard anything from Lucas since the weird kidnapping three days ago. I hadn’t even felt like I was being watched. I assumed he had found out what he needed to know about me, and I would never see him again. I’d been trying to forget about Lucas and convince myself that never seeing him again was a good thing. So I was shocked when he suddenly appeared in Henry’s living room one morning after Henry had left for school.
He was wearing the same long black coat. “We can’t speak here. I’m taking you to dinner tonight. Somewhere that it’s safe to talk.”
Okay, so that wasn’t the most romantic way I had been asked out, but I’d take it. And besides, it wasn’t exactly like Lucas gave me a choice anyway.
When Henry got home from school, I had begged him to take me to the store for clothes for my date with Lucas. Henry had not been very obliging.
“Even when you were alive, you always did this, Aurora,” he had said patronizingly. “What is it about the bad boy? Why haven’t you ever been happy with a nice guy? And what guarantee do you have that he isn’t going to try to harm you?”
“You can’t kill someone who is already dead,” I had said flippantly. And then added, “I’m doing this for both of us. I’m not attracted to him. This is the only lead we have right now.”
Living Dead Girl (Vampire Hunter Book 1) Page 4
