Garden of Darkness (12 page)

I ran through the trees, small branches smacking me in the face. My breathing was loud, my lungs raw.

I stopped, hands braced on my knees.

Son of a bitch.

What the hell was
that
? What had I stumbled upon?

I pulled out my cell phone.

No signal.

My mind had been playing tricks on me, that’s what it was. I hadn’t really seen what I thought I’d seen. Had I? I’d been scared shitless, and it had been raining like hell. And dark.

But I’d had my camera running. When I got back to Tuonela I’d look at it. I’d see there was nothing there, that my mind had invented some crazy bullshit. Because minds did that. Filled in the blanks with nonsense.

Film might lie, but at the same time it told a certain amount of truth. It would tell if I really saw what I thought I’d seen.

Car lights.

The vehicle skidded to a stop. A door slammed.

I turned and ran.

My legs were shaking, and I was running with the additional weight of my camera.

As I ran I blindly felt across the tape compartment door. It was like some old Western where the cowboy reloaded his gun while running from the Indians. I would have laughed if I’d had any extra air. I did manage a laugh in my head, if only to help chase away the terror.

I popped open the camera door, pulled out the tape, shut the door, and shoved the tape inside my bra.

“Kristin! Stop!”

Graham.

Wow, had I ever been wrong about him. Thinking he was some sweet, naive kid.

He was part of that world back there, the world of his dad. A world that involved swimming around in a mud pit with bones and mummified corpses.

I killed a man.

Maybe he didn’t mean he’d killed a man when the guy stepped off the curb in front of his car.

Maybe he was some evil spawn masquerading as something human.

Good job.

I heard him behind me, crashing through the brush, getting closer. I didn’t have a prayer.

He tackled me. I catapulted forward. As the ground flew toward my face, I instinctively wrapped my arms around my camera, protecting it. I hit and rolled to my side with a loud
oomph.

“I told you to stay in the car,” Graham said.

“You’d better not have broken my camera.”

“Give it to me.”

I hugged it tighter. “No.”

He shone the flashlight in my face. “Give me the damn camera.”

“Go to hell.”

He pried it from my hands. He turned it around, going over it like a damn monkey. “How do you open it?”

I smirked.

He popped open the tape door.

“Where’s the cassette? What’d you do with it?”

“I threw it away.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Was that your dad back there? Was that Evan Stroud?”

I couldn’t see his face. I wished I could see his face. He was just a murky, dark shape, backlit by fractured headlights.

“What did you see?”

“Nothing. It was dark.”

“And you weren’t filming either, right?”

“Right.” I played along even though I knew he knew I was lying.

He shoved his hand into my coat pockets, one after the other. Then he patted down the pockets of my jeans, frisking me. “Where is it? I know you have it.”

He wasn’t going to give up. He was protecting his father. Protecting himself.

I struggled for breath. “I don’t have it.”

I tried to get away. I hit. I kicked. He was strong for a wormy kid. He held me down with his weight. I felt his hand go up my shirt, then into my bra, searching and finding the minicassette. He pulled it out, let me go, and jumped to his feet.

I followed. “I’m sure you’ll want to view that on holidays. Maybe show it to your kids, if you ever have any.”

“Come on. I’ll give you a ride back to town.”

I pulled out my phone.

“You won’t get a signal out here.”

He was right.

I could walk, but I didn’t even know the way back to Tuonela. A woman had been murdered not that far away, and Evan Stroud was wandering around loose. What was a girl to do?

“I won’t hurt you.”

Graham may have been part of that other world, but he still seemed my safest choice. “Give me a ride then, asshole.”

Chapter Sixteen

Rachel could have called David and told him to hang on—she’d be right back. Save her seat. Save her some pizza. Maybe save her a place in his life.

She didn’t.

Instead she walked around to the back of Evan’s house, where a dim light could be seen in the kitchen window. She knocked. When no one answered she pushed against the door. It wasn’t latched, and swung open slowly.

Because of his illness Evan couldn’t use regular bulbs. The kitchen was shrouded in a murky light that bathed the room in negatives, giving it a red-hued, darkroom appearance.

The place was in various stages of restoration and abandonment. Projects begun by previous owners, then forgotten. No doors on the cupboards. A wall that was in the early stages of demolition, slats and pieces of stained floral wallpaper showing.

She stepped inside—and let out a small gasp of alarm.

Evan sat on the floor, his back against the wall, legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles.

He was shirtless, his arms resting on his thighs, hands caked with what looked like mud. He didn’t move. He didn’t turn his head.

“Rachel.” Her name floated across his lips in a whispered exhale.

He’s lost so much weight.

Even in the dim light, she could see his ribs outlined against pale skin.

How long had it been since she’d last seen him?

She did some mental calculations. Months. Before she knew she was pregnant. He’d come to the morgue in what she later realized was a last goodbye before his betrayal.

Rachel had worked hard to convince the Tuonela city council to purchase Old Tuonela, bulldoze the buildings, and fence off the ground so that no one could go there again. No one could die there again . . . But Evan had come along and bought the ground from under them. He hadn’t even told her he was thinking about it, and he didn’t tell her he was the one behind the purchase once it was made. She’d read about it in the paper.

He was inviting trouble. He was putting everyone at risk. For what? A piece of dark history? The living were much more important than the dead.

He may not have been the vampire that half the people in Tuonela claimed him to be, but Evan couldn’t be trusted.

He hurt you.

Yes.

Evan scrambled awkwardly to his feet and tried to stand up straight, one hand resting against the counter, one hand on his waist. On the right side of his chest, just above the nipple, was a red, raised scar that matched another one a few inches away on his arm.

Gunshot wounds.

She closed her eyes for a second and pulled in a deep breath, struggling to keep her distance. She’d always struggled to keep her distance when it came to Evan. But she didn’t always succeed. . . .

It’s so dark here. . . . So bleak . . .

Instability and confusion radiated from him, along with an attempt to cover it up.

Graham shouldn’t be here.

It wasn’t a healthy environment for a kid.

Evan didn’t smell like alcohol. Graham had been right about that. “Have you been in the sun?” Was he suffering from light exposure? She knew how debilitating that was to him.

His hair was getting long and shaggy, and his jaw was covered with dark stubble—a contrast to the paleness of his face.

“I’ve been excavating.”

“In Old Tuonela?”

“Yes.”

“At night?”

“All night. Graham made me stop because of the rain. It wasn’t raining that hard. It doesn’t bother me.”

Now she could see that his jeans were soaked.

She suddenly realized that he was staring at her in an almost bemused way, with a sort of half smile, as if pleased she’d stopped by.

He was breaking her heart. He’d always broken her heart.

She’d loved him ever since she could remember. She’d loved him with a love that made no sense, that put her in danger’s way, that left her exposed and vulnerable.

He could hurt her. He
had
hurt her.

The baby moved.

Jesus.

Like a somersault.

She felt something that may have been a small heel slide across her stomach. She put a hand to the top button of her coat, checking to make sure she was covered.

This was not good.

He’s too fragile.

She was always thinking about other people. What about
her
?

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Graham called me. He was worried about you.”

“I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

Be the friend. Just be the concerned friend.

“I don’t think so. What’s going on, Evan? Besides the excavating? I think you need to move back to Tuonela. You and Graham.”

“Everybody keeps saying that.”

“Who?”

“My father. Graham.”

“They’re right.”

“I have to be here.”

She stepped closer. She reached up and touched his face, his jaw, made him look at her, listen to her. “This place is bad for you. It’s bad for everybody.”

He turned his face and touched his lips to her palm. He inhaled. “You smell different.”

Her heart was hammering, and it took all of her willpower to keep from holding him close. “It’s probably the new disinfectant I’m using in the morgue.” She tried to pull her hand back, but he held on.

“It’s you. There’s something different about you. Your blood . . .” He paused for description. “It’s singing.”

Something’s not right. Something’s more wrong than usual.

She managed to tug her hand away. “What are you talking about?”

“I can hear it.”

A strange sound of unease escaped her.

“And now you’re afraid. I can smell your fear. I don’t think you’ve ever been afraid of me. Don’t be afraid of me.” She could see his brain shift. “Don’t tell me you suddenly believe that vampire nonsense.”

“No. Of course not.” But he was different, and he was making her nervous.

Something wrong.

She moved backward, away from him. She felt behind her for the door. “I have to go.” Her cell phone was in her pocket. But would she get a signal? Probably not.

“You just got here.”

“Take a shower, Evan. Take a shower and go to bed. You’ll feel better tomorrow.”

“Don’t go.”

“I’ll call you.”
Placate him.
“Tomorrow. We’ll talk.”

“Stay with me, Florence.”

Time froze for a few beats.

“Did you just call me Florence?”

His eyes clouded and he seemed to briefly look inward. “Rachel,” he corrected himself. “I meant Rachel.”

“You said Florence. Who’s Florence?”

He lashed out and grabbed her wrist. He pulled her against him so hard her breath skipped and their stomachs collided.

His eyes changed. His pupils dilated. “What?”

While keeping one hand on her wrist, he felt her stomach with the other. “Rachel?”

He released her and placed both hands on her belly.

The baby moved as it had earlier, a giant shift. She and Evan both inhaled sharply. She could see his focus narrow, his thoughts clarifying as he remembered and calculated. She could see his emotions come one on top of another, ranging from joy to despair.

“It’s not yours,” she said quickly.

Where had the denial come from? Certainly nothing she’d planned, but with his obvious instability it had just popped out.

Protect herself. Protect the baby.

“You never could lie worth a damn.” With his hands still cradling her belly, his lips twisted into an odd smile. “What about my disease? Have you thought of that?”

“I’ve researched it—”

She stopped, immediately realizing she’d just admitted the child was his. Tears stung her eyes. Why? Because the truth was finally out and she wasn’t carrying the secret alone? Or was it fear for her baby? Fear of Evan?

One night. They’d made love—or had sex—just one time. Her memory of the event was fuzzy, and later she’d wondered if it had really happened. Just a crazy dream, she’d told herself. Just a crazy Tuonela-induced dream. Until her periods stopped and the pregnancy test came out positive.

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“I tried. I left voice-mail messages.” When he didn’t respond, she thought it was all for the best. She would wait until she got to California. Distance would make it easier for both of them. She certainly hadn’t meant for him to find out this way.

“Voice mail?” He snorted. “You didn’t try very hard.”

“No, I didn’t. After all that happened, I wasn’t sure you’d want to know.”

“That hurts me.”

“Evan, I’m sorry. But you’ve changed. Sometimes I don’t think I know you at all.” And she used to know him almost as well as she knew herself. “At one time I would have told you right away, but even now I question the wisdom of sharing such news.”

He couldn’t be trusted. “I think maybe I should never have told you. That nobody should know.”

“I don’t blame you. Poor thing will grow up being called the vampire’s child.”

“I’ve never been ashamed of you. You should know me better than that. But I have to protect the baby.”

He nodded. “The baby.”

She was beginning to relax when Evan’s eyes changed. The pupils enlarged and became flat and black. He broke into a sweat, and he suddenly gave off a fevered heat.

He removed his hands and stepped back. “Go.” There was confusion and terror in his voice that seemed to mirror her own earlier emotions. “Get out of here. Now.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Go!”

He was right; she’d never been afraid of him. Not even when the whole town believed he was capable of horrendous acts. But she was afraid of him now.

She turned.

She ran.

Chapter Seventeen