I raised the shovel above my head and slammed it into the ground over and over, hoping to connect with something. But it didn’t. Because no one was buried here.
“Grey?” I heard Lyra call my name.
“What do you see?” I asked.
The light from her flashlight blinded me. She squinted, removing her wire-framed glasses from a pocket in her raincoat.
“Um, nothing.” She tried to get a better look. “What am I supposed to be looking at?”
“A coffin. A body. Take your pick.”
Lyra clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes as she took another look at the empty hole like she might have missed it the first time.
“Whose grave was this supposed to be?” she asked, but her tone told me she already knew the answer.
“Veda’s.” I ground out.
My pulse quickened. The collar roared to life, sending a shock down my spine. My legs gave out, and my muscles spasmed. Power flowed through my veins, threatening to rip me apart.
“Grey…” My name drifted through the air.
The grave is empty. She’s not here. She’s gone.
“You’re hurting me.” The voice was familiar. Soft and sweet.
Lips brushed mine, and I welcomed the taste of coffee and sweetness. A tingling sensation ran through my body, but it wasn’t from the collar. The kiss muted the world and calmed the power warring inside me.
She pulled back, leaving us both gasping for air. Her hand flew to her lips, brushing her fingertips against them. “That was…electric.”
The lonely darkness receded, and in its place stood Lyra. I couldn’t look away. She was the most beautiful fucking thing I’d ever seen.
“Are you okay?” She looked up at me, concern lacing her features.
“I’m fine,” I told her, my muscles still convulsing from the shock.
“Can we get out of here? This place gives me the heebbie-jeebbies.” She grimaced.
“Yeah. There’s nothing here, anyway.” I braced myself on the side of the grave, helping Lyra climb out. Mud caked all over my jeans and sweatshirt as I clawed my way out behind her.
Rain cascaded down in sheets, coming down sideways. It was impossible to see anything.
We took off in a sprint. Puddles swallowed my boots, soaking all the way to my socks. Lyra splashed next to me in her rainboots, the hood of her jacket covering her face, but wisps of dark brown hair escaped.
The lights of Lyra’s SUV flashed as she unlocked it. The wind whipped through the car as we climbed in, and I tugged the door closed. Lyra blasted the heat, rubbing her hands together for warmth. She stabbed at the seat warmer until it was on high. My ass was about to be slow roasted.
“Holy shit.” Lyra’s teeth chattered. Her entire body shook as she put the SUV into drive.
Rain pelted the windshield, making it difficult to see as Lyra drove. She made a hard left and the car started hydroplaning in the pothole-filled parking lot across the street from the Dutchman. The red neon light of the open sign shone through the windshield, but only a handful of cars were in the parkinglot of the twenty-four-hour diner. The lack of patrons was most likely due to it being the middle of the night.
“What the hell are we doing here when the bar is on the other side of the street?” I asked as she cut the engine.
“I’m starving, and you have nothing in your fridge or cabinets.” She didn’t wait before sprinting across the parking lot into the diner.
I trudged in behind her, my shoes squishing with each step.
Lyra sat in a corner booth, already looking at the menu. Her bright yellow raincoat made it impossible to miss her. Water dripped to the table from her long, dark hair. Streaks of dirt ran down her flushed face. She stared at the menu as if she was making a life-and-death decision. And to her, it probably was.
The cracked vinyl seats squeaked as I slid into the booth. Grease and fried oil drowned out the smell of the fresh pot of coffee brewing at the front.
