Graveminder. Melissa Marr

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ to force herself to move slower than was natural. “I wanted to come here.”

      “By yourself? At three-thirty in the morning? Things must have changed if your parents let you get away with that.” Rebekkah felt a ghost of a smile on her lips. “I thought curfew was still at sunset unless you were with a group.”

      The screen door slapped shut with a sharp crack as Byron came outside. His expression was cast in shadows, but she didn’t need to see his face to know he was tense. His tone told her everything as he said, “Do you need us to call someone for you?”

      “No.” The girl stepped backward, away from the porch and deeper into the darkness.

      Byron stepped to the edge of the porch, positioning himself in front of Rebekkah. “I’m not sure what you’re looking for here, but …”

      The girl turned and vanished, disappearing so suddenly that if Rebekkah didn’t know better she’d think the girl had been a hallucination.

      “She’s just gone.” Rebekkah shivered. “Do you think she’ll be all right?”

      “Why wouldn’t she?” Byron didn’t turn to face her; instead, he stood staring out into the darkness where the girl had disappeared.

      Rebekkah pulled her afghan tighter around her. “Byron? Should we go after her? Do you know her? I felt like … I don’t know. Should we call Chris or her family or—”

      “No.” He looked over his shoulder at her. “We were out after hours half the time when we were her age.”

      “Not alone.”

      “Yes, we were.” Byron laughed, but it sounded forced. “How many times did I walk you two home and then haul ass to get back before Dad caught me out alone after curfew?”

      In a guilty flash, Rebekkah remembered running inside so she didn’t have to see him kissing Ella good night. She forced herself to hold his gaze. “Maybe I was braver then.” She paused, frowned, and stared past him into the darkness. “God, listen to me. I’m not even back a day, and I’m worrying about curfew. Most towns, most cities don’t have sunset curfews.”

      “There’s nowhere quite like Claysville, is there?” He came to sit on the far end of the swing.

      “Between the two of us, I think we’d have found it if there was.” With one foot, she pushed against the porch and set the swing to swaying again. “Do you feel the … I don’t know … click when you come back here?”

      Byron didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I do.”

      “I hate that feeling sometimes; it made me want to stay away more. But Maylene is—was everything. I’d see her and sometimes I could forget that Ella was …”

      “Gone.”

      “Right. Gone,” she whispered. “Now Maylene and Jimmy are both gone, too. My family is gone, so why does it still feel right coming home? It feels right the moment I cross that line. All those prickling feelings that I feel everywhere else I go vanish when I pass that stupid sign.”

      “I know.” He pushed the swing again; the chains creaked from the force of it. “I don’t have any answers … at least not the ones you want.”

      “Do you have other ones?”

      For several moments, he was silent. Then he said, “At least one, but you never like that one when I bring it up.”

      9

      NICOLAS WHITTAKER WASN’T THE SORT OF MAN TO PATROL THE STREETS; HE had people who handled that, people who were out doing it while he waited in the comfort of the mayoral office. It’s the natural order of things. He’d grown up secure in the fact that his hometown was a place where a person could grow up healthy and together. His children, when he was selected to have some, would be safe. They wouldn’t move to some city and get mugged. They wouldn’t have any of those childhood diseases that killed other people’s children. They would be protected. The town founders had made sure of it. Only one real threat to the family he intended to have someday ever existed in Claysville— and only when the Graveminder failed to keep that threat in check.

      Mayor Whittaker paced to the small mahogany bar that his father had added to the mayoral office during his tenure. The soft clink of ice in his glass seemed loud in the empty office. At this hour, his secretary was long gone. He poured himself another bourbon, absently thinking he was lucky that alcoholism didn’t strike the townsfolk either.

      A tap at the door was followed by the entrance of two of the councilors, Bonnie Jean and Daniel. At twenty-six, Bonnie Jean was the youngest of the council members. Her youth made her fearless in a way the other members weren’t, but then again, she hadn’t been on the council the last time they’d had a problem.

      Now her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were widened. “We didn’t see anything, you know, weird while we were out.”

      Behind her, Daniel shook his head.

      “We put out the mountain-lion flyers,” Bonnie Jean added.

      “Good.” Nicolas smiled at her. He couldn’t help himself—or see any reason to—she was a lovely girl, albeit not necessarily breeding material. He held up an empty glass. “Would you like a drink to warm up a bit?”

      The young councilwoman flashed a smile at him, even as Daniel caught Nicolas’ gaze and scowled. “It’s getting late, Mayor.”

      Nicolas arched a brow. “Well then, I’ll see you later, Mr. Greeley.”

      “Bonnie Jean doesn’t need to be walking alone with a murderer out there, sir.” Daniel stepped forward so he was standing beside Bonnie Jean. “A young woman doesn’t need—”

      “Um, right here, guys.” Bonnie Jean slipped her hand into her handbag and showed them a .38 gripped in her manicured hand.

      “I see,” Nicolas murmured. “Maybe we should be asking the lady to escort us, Daniel.”

      Bonnie Jean grinned. “Dan’s driving, and he’s more than able to handle himself. What about you, Mayor?”

      With the same showmanship he relied on in meetings, Nicolas patted his trouser pockets and then opened his suit jacket. “Actually, I’m afraid I’m unarmed, my dear. Perhaps I do need an escort.” He smiled at her. “Unfortunately, I’m not quite ready to leave the office. Could I impose upon you to wait?”

      “You could.” She turned to Daniel. “I’m perfectly able to handle whatever’s out there”—she flashed Nicolas a smile—“or in here.”

      After a pointed look at Bonnie Jean, which she ignored, Daniel shook his head and left. She followed him to the door, kissed him on the cheek, and closed the door.

      Nicolas poured Bonnie Jean a glass of Scotch and held it out to her.

      10

      BYRON THOUGHT ABOUT THE THINGS HE OUGHT TO TELL REBEKKAH, about the things he wanted to tell her, and the fact that none of what he had to say was what she needed to hear tonight. They sat in the dark, listening to the СКАЧАТЬ