The Accidental Kiss (The Kiss Book 1) (19 page)

The GPS on my phone directed me to a graveyard across town. I walked around the corner, out of view from my house, and called a cab to pick me up. Five minutes later, a yellow-checkered smart car slid along side the curb.

The cabbie rolled down the passenger side window and leaned out. “Are you Sky?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

I heard the sound of the doors unlocking. “Get in.”

Opening the passenger door, my butt slid into the seat next to his. An air freshener dangled off the rearview mirror. It made the cab smell like a meadow, which was oddly comforting.

“Where to?” the cab driver barked.

“Plymouth Cemetery.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw his eyebrows shoot into his hairline. “You sure about that?”

His doubt about my destination made me take pause. Was I sure I wanted to go to a cemetery at 9:00 at night when I had no idea if Daemon was there? No, but I knew I had to. Daemon had started off as an annoying thorn in my side but he had grown into something more than a friend. His wellbeing was important.

I nodded with conviction. “Yes.”

The cab driver started the car. “Ok, as long as you’re sure.”

We drove into the desolate night and my stomach jumbled with nerves. I clutched the backpack tight against my chest as if it was a life raft. The cab driver and I shared a mutual silence, but based on the sideways looks he kept giving me, I knew he wanted to talk.

Finally, his mouth opened. “Is there a reason you’re going to Plymouth Cemetery this late at night?”

Hasn’t he heard it’s rude to pry into somebody else’s business?

The truth came out before I could over think it. “My friend works there.”

“No shit. What kids these days do for money, I tell ya.”

Since Castor was the size of my pinky, it didn’t take long before the cab arrived at Plymouth Cemetery. A metal archway spelled out the name with an iron gate underneath. It looked exactly how a graveyard is supposed to look. Creepy and unwelcoming. Taking a deep breath, my heart stalled in my chest. I wished I’d brought more than mace to protect myself.

I turned to the driver. “You wouldn’t have a bat or something that could crack a skull, would you?” He blinked at me, mouth open. “Never mind,” I mumbled as my feet hit the pavement.

When I went to close the door, the driver’s meaty hand stopped it. His eyes hinted at worry. “I don’t know what you’re up to girly, but be careful.”

The term
girly
grated on my nerves, however, his concern was touching. “Thank you. I will be.”

“Do you want me to wait for you?”

I stared out onto the rolling hills of graves as a dense fog swirled on the ground and I bit back a manic laugh. There was something seriously wrong with me. This whole situation spelled out a horror movie waiting to happen. Daemon better be around here somewhere.

“No, I’m ok,” I answered. “Thank you.”

The driver scrounged through the middle console and re-earthed a shiny object, which he handed to me. My fingers closed around the cool metal. “It’s a pocketknife,” he explained. “It won’t kill a man but it will do in a jiffy.”

I slipped it in my pocket next to the mace. “You’re too kind.”

The car roared to life as he waved and drove off. Now I was truly alone among the dead. I briskly walked toward the gate and unlocked the latch. A loud screech ruptured the silence. Wincing, my feet crossed the barrier into the cemetery. Foolishly, I hadn’t researched how large Plymouth was. From my naked eye, it looked to be about seven acres, which was a lot of ground to cover. Better get to it if I wanted to find Daemon before sunrise. I turned left onto the gravel walkway. Iciness seeped into my bones and I wrapped my jacket tighter around my body. The trees rustled overhead with a ghostly wind. Calling out Daemon’s name seemed rude so instead my eyes kept a constant lookout for any figures. Human or otherwise. Gravestones rose out of the ground, some more ornate than others. It made me realize how your net worth was on display even when you’re dead and gone. An owl hooted in the distance, providing an unsettling soundtrack.

I picked up my pace. “Where are you Daemon?”

All I got in response was another hoot from the owl. The fog grew denser the further I walked until I could barely see three feet in front of me. Feeling blind and out of sorts, curses fell off my tongue. The gravel crunched behind me, sending my pulse to skyrocket. Spinning around, my hand clutched the pocketknife, ready to shank somebody if need be.

“Who’s there?” I yelled.

A tiny bunny rabbit pranced across the trail with its mother in tow. I let out a shaky breath as my upper torso pitched forward and placed my palms on my knees. Relief coursed through my veins. Straightening, my mind screamed for me to head home and return to the cemetery in the morning when it was light. Since I wasn’t one to give up, a deal was struck. If I didn’t find Daemon within the next twenty minutes, I would leave. Until then, all systems were a go. I steered off the beaten path. My shoes sunk into the wet soil, encasing them in thick clumps of mud.

“Daemon,” I whispered loudly. Nothing. “Daemon,” I whispered louder.

A faint groan was carried away in the wind. I froze and looked around to identify where the sound came from. I took a couple of steps forward. Squinting through the frog, a shadow of a figure was laid across a grave up ahead. Problem was, I couldn’t tell if it was Daemon. And if it was, why was he lying down?

“Daemon?”

The shadow shifted. I broke into a run, my hair whipping around my face. Arriving at the grave, I saw it was in fact Daemon but he was broken and bloodied. His arm was laid across his face, as if he was fending off phantom punches. My breath caught in my throat.

I fell to my knees next to him. “Are you ok? What happened to you?”

Daemon moaned as his arm flopped to his side, revealing two black eyes and a gash above his eyebrow. Dried blood splattered his cheek. “You with the questions,” he croaked.

With his sight impaired, I couldn’t tell if he recognized me. “Daemon, it’s Sky.”

His chin dipped in the direction of my voice. “How did you find me?”

“Instinct.”

“You have good instincts.”

“Thanks.” I assessed the amount of his injuries. They weren’t awful but I hadn’t seen underneath his t-shirt yet. “Would you mind if I lifted up your shirt?”

“Always trying to get in my pants,” he quipped.

I was glad to see that Daemon still had his personality in tact. I gingerly raised his t-shirt and gasped. His skin was mottled with fresh wounds. They were pink and raised on the edges as if they were healing.

I laid my hand over them. “How long have you been here?”

His shoulders shrugged followed by a wince. “A day, an hour.”

Retreating to a graveyard after getting seriously injured was a weird place to lick one’s wounds. “Why here?”

“It’s the closest to home I can get.”

“What are you talking about?”

Daemon mumbled a string of incoherent words. I didn’t have to wait long to get my answer though. The fog cleared around us and my eyes drifted to the headstone. The grave Daemon was sprawled across was his own.

I crawled around Daemon’s body to take a closer look. The inscription on the headstone was simple and to the point. My lips mouthed the words. “Here lies a beloved a son, brother, and nephew. May your soul rest in peace.” His full name was listed underneath. “Daemon Joseph Henley.”

It didn’t make sense. Daemon had told me he moved here from somewhere else and everybody in Castor referred to him as the new kid, so why was he buried in Plymouth Cemetery? I looked at him for an explanation, but he was turned on his back, staring vacantly at the sky. The answer could wait.

“I need to get you to the hospital,” I said more to myself than him.

Daemon rolled onto his side, placed his hands on the ground, and weakly lifted his torso up. “I’m fine. Help me to my feet.”

I looked at him as if he was nuts. “Are you kidding me? You are barely coherent. How can I possibly drag you to wherever you want to go?”

“I need food, water, and pain killers.” He cradled his head in his hands. “A lot of pain killers.”

“I thought you were immortal.”

“I am, but I can still feel pain. A day or two of rest and I’ll be good as new.”

Daemon looked as if he needed more than two days of rest but based on the wounds on his stomach that were already healing, I decided to believe him.

“Fine. Place your hand on my shoulder and we’ll do this together.”

He complied with my orders. We awkwardly stumbled to our feet and I swayed under his weight. “Where to?”

“I live up the road. It’s not far.”

We shuffled down the path at a slow, agonizing pace. He wasn’t light by any means so what would have been a five-minute journey turned into a twenty-minute sweat session. Finally, in the distance, I spotted a small one-story shingle roofed house. We stopped to catch our breath.

“Please tell me that’s your house,” I said.

When no answer came, my gaze cut over to him. Daemon’s eyes were closed shut, his chin tucked against his chest. I lightly patted his cheek to no avail. I tried again but this time I did it harder.

His head jerked up widely. “What the fuck?”

“Sorry,” I said. “You passed out and were about to collapse on top of me.”

He rubbed his face where a red mark was blooming. “That’s no excuse.”

“Come on.”

We continued on our journey until we reached Daemon’s front door, which was painted bright blue. Flower boxes were under the windowsills, blossoming in a rainbow of color. It was a cheery house for one located in a graveyard. My hand closed around the doorknob and it turned easily.

“You should really lock your doors,” I mumbled.

“YOU should lock your doors,” Daemon shot back without any fire.

His comebacks were sorely lacking. I dragged Daemon into the small living room and deposited him on a leather couch. He melted into the cushions with a sigh of contentment. I had a crushing feeling the voodoo priest and his zombies had played a role in Daemon’s beating. It was only a matter of time before they came back for me as well. Burying the panic, I glanced around the space. It screamed man den, but in a classy way with an industrial style kitchen, bare bones living room, and a set of French doors that led to what I presumed was the bedroom. I would have snooped if Daemon didn’t need my help.

Grabbing a blanket folded over the back of the couch, I draped it over his body. “Do you need anything else?”

“Pain killers.”

I snapped my fingers together. “Right. Where would those be located?”

He winced at the sound of my voice and yanked the blanket over his head. “Off the bedroom.”

Nerves flittered in my stomach. Entering his personal space seemed like a huge step in our relationship or friendship, whatever you wanted to call it. I stared at the French doors as if they would open themselves. When they didn’t, I put my feet one in front of the other. Taking a deep breath, I pushed on the glass panel and stepped into Daemon’s bedroom. My eyes gravitated toward the bed, which was king size and absurdly large. The sheets were rumpled, the pillows askew. A flash of lust burned between my legs. An image of Daemon stretched above me, his eyes lit with possession as he claimed me as his own made my legs waver
.