Graveyard Shifts: A Pat Wyatt Novel (14 page)

BOOK: Graveyard Shifts: A Pat Wyatt Novel
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He shrugged. “From the moment I saw you I knew.” I looked at him like he was crazy, and before I could even ask what he knew, he said, “You are heartless, and I could see it from across the room. That is why I knew you were the one.”

That cut me to the quick. My jaw tightened, and I ground my teeth together. “If I’m so heartless, then why shouldn’t I leave you?”

“Because,” he paused, making the softest expression I’d ever seen, “I do not want to live without you.”

I stared at him, trying to think of what to say. I just couldn’t believe that he loved me that much. And when my eyes found his, I saw that it wasn’t love that drove him to tell me but loyalty to his kind. In that moment, I knew that this marriage was over and there was nothing he could say that would’ve made me change my mind.

“Samuel,” I whispered. “Do you love me?”

He looked at me, his cold blue eyes sad. “Yes, I do. Very much.”

“Then…” I paused, regretting what I was about to say. “Make love to me.”

I know. But I wanted to give him some sort of happiness. He just looked so pitiful and so sad that I just couldn’t deny him that bit of closure.

“Anything for you, my love,” he said, pulling me up off the tombstone. And when he leaned down to kiss me, I pulled back, not letting him.

He placed me on the ground, and I noticed that he’d changed out of his tux and was wearing his usual all black. It only took him a second to undress. Then he took off my panties again, but he left my shirt on. I guess he wanted to make sure that my back wouldn’t get wet from the grass.

The moment he was inside me, he started to tremble. He was holding back, for some reason, and I wondered why. After I thought about it for a second, I just closed my eyes and let the sounds and smells of the graves engulf me. How many people can say that they’ve had sex in a bone yard? I was pretty sure I didn’t want to know the answer to that. Even if it was a dream.

He rolled over onto his back, and I took off my damp nightshirt. Then he sat up, holding my waist. His cold breath was on my neck, and I could feel something coming. Something more powerful than anything I had ever felt before. That’s when he bit my neck again. Only this time it didn’t hurt at all. Actually, it felt oddly fantastic.

And as I rocked on top of him, his coldness and my heat brought the term yin and yang to mind. But I pushed that aside. In that moment, the emotions that flowed through me were so confusing and so overwhelming that all I could do was scream.

.

chapter

THIRTEEN

What’s the worst thing about waking up screaming your head off? Well, waking up screaming your head off Saturday morning when you can sleep as late as you want.

I pounded my fist into the comforter. “Dang it all!” All of it was a dream. And to make matters worse, Charlie came rushing in with the baseball bat. What he thought he was going to accomplish with it was beyond me.

“Is everything all—” he began to ask, but I cut him off with the wave of my hand.

“I’m fine,” I said. My mouth felt so tight that I thought my lips were sewn together. “Just peachy.” Why is it that every time you have a dream that you don’t want to end, you always wake up?

“Was it another nightmare?” he asked, as he placed the bat down on the floor, sitting on the bed.

I sighed, placing my hands over my eyes. “No,” I answered, “it was the same one. Only…it wasn’t a nightmare this time.”

“What was it then?” He sounded confused, and when I looked at him, his face confirmed it.

“A dream,” I said, shaking my head as if it would make the images tumble out of my brain. “A dream that was so real it felt like reality.”

“That’s why you screamed?” he inquired. “Because it felt real?”

Why did I get the feeling that he knew the answer to that? “Not exactly,” I said, trying to be tactful. Not one of my better qualities. So it came off wistful, which made it sound more interesting than it actually was. Finally, I let my hands drop from my face so I could see his reaction.

“What do you—” He cut himself off, realizing what I’d meant. “Oh my,” he breathed, blushing a little. “With Mr. Satané?” I nodded, and he just looked at me sideways. “You didn’t…? Last night, that is?” When he asked, I shook my head. There was no use in denying it. “Hmm…that is rather peculiar.”

I sighed. “Is that all you have to say?” His offhandedness was not what I needed right now. I needed someone to explain.

He placed his chin on his knuckles. “Very odd indeed,” he said, thoughtfully. “Has he ever
not
before?”

“Just the other night, when I had the other nightmare,” I said, jumping out of bed. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” I didn’t feel like having a conversation about my love life, or lack thereof. The truth was I never wanted to have that kind of conversation.

I ran out of the room, down the hall, and into the closet so I could take a cold shower. I tried to get the images of Samuel and me in the graveyard out of my head, but it was no use. And when I was done, I got dressed in no hurry.

The large closet was quickly becoming a calming place for me, and I figured out that I could hide from the world by just locking the door. You know, unless that person was Samuel with the key. But the room was growing on me.

I rested naked on the chaise lounge in the middle of the room for a while, thinking about why it had bothered me that the dream was exactly that: a dream. After about twenty minutes of thinking about the graveyard, I put on a pair of torn, oversized jeans, a belt (of course), a plaid button-down shirt, and my Converse. Then out of the closet I went, crossing the balcony and taking the stairs two at a time.

As I was about to reach the bottom of the steps, Mike walked in without knocking. “What are you doing here?” I asked. Not that I wasn’t glad to see him, but the look on his face made me stop dead in my tracks. He didn’t look very happy to see me. In fact, he looked miserable.

He walked over to me, not saying a word, just staring at me silently. And when his eyes finally met mine, he had an air of smugness about him. “You should leave,” I said, pointing to the door, but still he didn’t say anything. Finally, when I tried to walk around him, he stepped in front of me, blocking my way.

“Mike,” I began, but he placed his finger over my lips, grabbed my hand and pulled me down the stairs into the study. He shut the door behind us and then pulled me to him.

“Stop it,” I hissed. Couldn’t he understand that this wasn’t a good time to do this? But even though I tried to push him away, he didn’t budge.

He caught my arms as he moved me against the door. Then I slowly moved my hand down to the knob, but he was too fast. He grabbed my wrist, wagging his finger at me, scolding silently.

Locking the doors, he pushed me over to the desk, lifting me on top of it. This was not like him. At all. I wondered what had happened to the Mike I’d come to know and like. It was as if something had snatched his body and replaced his mind with someone else. Someone like Samuel.

“Mike, don’t do this,” I begged, still trying to push him off me, but he started to unbutton my blouse. “Please,” I said, but he didn’t stop.

That’s when he ripped my shirt open, feeling my breasts through my bra. I felt like I wanted to die. It was one of those front clasp ones. I just knew I shouldn’t have worn it today.

Taking the clasp between his fingers, he quickly opened it. When I tried to cover myself up, he pushed my hands aside, fondling and kissing each breast.

“Stop!” I screamed. There was something wrong, so I pushed on his forehead, making him look at me. But when our eyes met, I could see that there was something different about him. Something was definitely off, and I had a scary feeling that I knew what it was. “Mike?” I asked. My hand was on his cheek, and he shook his head. “Samuel?” I tried again, dreading the answer more than death itself. Finally he nodded, and I felt like I was going to faint. This could not be happening.

“Mike,” I said with a shaky voice, “if you’re playing games with me this isn’t funny.”

He looked at me with a hurting smile on his face. And I freaked out. What was going on?

“I have to be asleep,” I said to myself, closing my eyes. But when I opened them again, Mike…no, wait…Samuel…whoever it was, just shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not asleep?” I asked, and he shook his head. I’d managed to push him far enough away from me that I had gotten off the desk and re-clasped my bra in the process.

“Why won’t you speak to me?” I asked, and Mike/Samuel opened his mouth, but nothing came out. I put my hands on my hips in frustration. “Well, I’m waiting.” Then he held up his index finger, grabbed a piece of computer paper and a pen, and started scribbling on it. Finally, he shoved the paper at me and pointed to it.

I looked down and read what he’d written out loud. “Can’t talk. Have Mike in trance. What?” I asked, looking up at him with narrowed eyes. Had he gone insane?

He took the paper from me, scribbling on it again. But this time he kept the paper on the desk for easy access. “Am vampire. Last night not a dream,” I read, and that’s when the room started spinning. I walked around the desk, sitting in the chair before I collapsed on the floor. “Let me get this straight,” I said, taking a breath because I felt nauseous. “Last night was real?” I asked, and he nodded. I felt like vomiting. “And the time before that?” He nodded again, and now I felt like hitting him. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, reading as he began to write his answer frantically. “Didn’t tell you because didn’t think it would matter. Well,” I huffed, “it does.” I was so angry I could’ve spit in his face.

“How are you doing this?” I asked, and he wrote, “Mind control. Only advanced vampires can do it.” Even through Mike he was arrogant. “Oh,” I said, sarcasm being my only defense, “like
that
makes sense. Wait,” I breathed, “you really are a vampire?” He nodded. “How many of your kind are there?”

“Hundreds of thousands,” he wrote. It had been painfully obvious, and it only took me a second to put the rest of it together. “So Chris is the
real
Christopher Marlowe, and Ludwig is…” He scribbled. “Ludwig van Beethoven.” I had met my favorite composer and didn’t even know it.

That’s when I started to hyperventilate, so he fanned me with the paper. He stopped abruptly, and I wondered if he was all right, until Mike screamed, “Get out of my head!” and then went silent.

Samuel/Mike just shook it off as if it was tick.

“I think you proved your point, Sam.” I made sure that I lingered over his shortened name. He couldn’t speak, so he couldn’t correct me. “Let him go,” I told him, but he shook his head. “Why not?”

“Because of what he did last night,” he wrote.

“Build a bridge and get over it.” I told him.


Never!

I folded my arms. “You do it, or I will find where you sleep and stake you.”

He narrowed his eyes at me, writing, “You would not dare.”

“Want to bet?” I said, staring him down. He sighed, hanging his head. “We’ll discuss whatever you want later.”

“Fine!” I read.

“Same to you, mister,” I said, giving him the finger. He narrowed his eyes at me.

“Oh, and before you go, I just want to tell you one more thing.” I paused, and he raised his eyebrows at me. Then I stood up, leaning across the desk. “I want a divorce.”

He tired to protest, but when he closed his eyes and opened them, I could tell that Mike was himself again. “Mike?” I asked, walking around the desk. “Is that you?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, “it’s me. God I hate when he does that.”

My temper was right on the surface. So whatever he said would be used against him. “When who does what?” I asked, well aware that my shirt was open, and I silently dared him to look.

“When Sam does that mind control thing,” he explained, and I slapped him across the face. His hand flew up to his cheek. “Ow! What the hell was that for?” he yelled.

“It’s for keeping his secrets,” I screamed back, and my hand rose to smack him again, but his arms went up, protecting his face. “Who else knows?” I asked, hitting his forearms.

He tried to look at me through the gap, but I kept smacking him. “Ow! Your shirt is open,” he said, and I hit him again. “Ow!”

“Who else knows?” I screamed at his covered face, and his hands dropped instinctively to a very important organ.

“J—just Charlie and me,” he stammered staggering backward.

“What about his mother?” I asked. After all, the poor woman had to be told what her son was. But when I asked, Mike looked away. And as I fixed my blouse, it hit me. “Silly Patricia,” I said, slapping my forehead with my palm. “She’s his creator.” I felt like I wanted to scream when he rubbed his neck.

“I’m going to ask you a question.” He would tell me. He just had to. “And I want you to answer me truthfully.” He nodded, knowing that this was no time for games. “How old is he?” I asked the question that no one wanted to answer.

“Exactly,” he paused, taking a deep breath. “Four hundred and sixty-three.”

The next thing I knew, everything went black.

“I really wish you would tell her these things
after
she’s eaten something,” I heard Charlie giving Mike what for. And trust me when I say I was all for it.

I felt that I was on the sofa with smelling salts under my nose again, and then I had a sudden urge to protect my face.

This was so unlike me. I had never fainted this much in my life, and I’d lost a lot of blood once when I was in a car accident the year I turned twelve. But I
still
didn’t lose consciousness. On the other hand, I guess there’s a difference between losing your blood to a wound and having it taken by a vampire.

“She asked, and I told her,” Mike hissed at him. “What was I supposed to do, lie to her again?”

The salts were waved under my nose. “No,” Charlie hissed back, “you were supposed to play dumb.”

“Oh, yeah, Charlie,” Mike’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “Lie to her like you and that asshole do every damn day that she lives here. That isn’t right, Charlie, and you know it. The woman has a right to know the truth.” He was really sticking up for me, and I was glad that he was on my side. Then I felt that Mike’s hand was near my face. “Maybe I should…?”

My hand grabbed his wrist defiantly. “Don’t even think about it,” I hissed at him, opening my eyes slowly.

Mike sighed, relieved. “Well, at least we know she’s awake.”

“Do you have a headache, Pat?” Charlie’s voice was music to my pounding ears.

“Yes,” I said, squinting at him. “I do. But before you go and get me something for it, could you help me sit up, please?” As soon as I asked, they gently pulled me up, and I leaned against the back of the sofa. “Now you can get me something.” I waved Charlie off. “Please,” I added as an afterthought. “And some coffee while you’re at it.” I noticed that my voice was a little whinier than I would’ve liked, but I couldn’t help it. I was in serious pain.

“Certainly,” Charlie said, getting up off his knees and scurrying away.

When Mike started to stand, I pulled him back down to his knees. There was something I had to ask him. “Was that you in the hallway last night?” I asked, and was relieved when he nodded. “And in the study yesterday morning?” He nodded again, smiling at me awkwardly. Then I leaned forward, kissing him on the lips.

He was a grown man, and he blushed like a schoolboy. “W—what was that for?” he stammered, embarrassed.


That
was for yesterday,” I said, kissing him again. “
That
was for today.” I did it once more. “And
that
was for standing up to him last night.” Then I hugged him to me tightly, while he hugged me back.

“This is nice,” he squeaked, and I laughed. “What?” he said in a lower voice, making sure that I knew he was a man.

“Y—you squeaked,” I laughed, pulling back a bit. I expected him to be even more embarrassed than he was, but he just grinned at me.

Mike’s green eyes sparkled when he smiled. “Pat,” he said, quietly, “I’ve got somethin’ to tell you.”

I tried to focus on what he was saying, but all I could think of was how close his face was to mine. “Is it shocking?” I asked, silently hoping it wasn’t. “Because I don’t think my mind can take in any more information. Or fainting, for that matter.” His smile faltered, and I sighed. Might as well. “Just tell me,” I said, patting him on the cheek.

He got up, sitting next to me, and he placed his hand on my knee. “Maybe now’s not a good time.”

“What could you possibly tell me that’s so bad?” I asked as I placed my hand on his shoulder. “That you’re a vampire too?” I laughed at that. “
Clearly
you’re not.”

BOOK: Graveyard Shifts: A Pat Wyatt Novel
7.19Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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