Read Online Dark Series, The Color of Seven and The Color of Dusk (Books We Love Special Edition) by Gail Roughton - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Gail Roughton
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Thirty minutes till sunset, maybe less . She needed to move her car. Because she was going to be here when sunset came. She was going to watch him wake.
The old legends rushed into her mind. The wicked teeth, the mesmerizing eyes, the insatiable thirst. And she was going to watch him rise? Oh, yeah. Hell, yeah.
She moved outside, holding the edge of the door, and then stopped, frustrated. The door had no outside handle . H ow to secure it? What if someone came by, saw it cracked open, and decided to investigate? H ighly unlikely , but still. Not a risk she was entitled to take. She ran her hands over the outside door, feeling for a hidden catch, and then she felt it. There was a hollowed-out handhold. She pulled the door firmly closed and went back to her car. She didn’t think any security patrols roamed the cemetery past sunset, but there was no reason to take the chance.
She got behind the wheel, driving back down Riverside Drive to the College Street intersection. A short section of College Street ran down a steep slope, right to the old back gates of Rose Arbor . No one traveling down Riverside in the dark would notice a car parked at the base of that slope in front of the gates.
She locked the doors and jumped lightly up on top of the long solid wall, hopped down and jogged back to the mausoleum.
She went inside and pulled the screwdriver out of her bag, inserting the handle between the door and the door jam b to allow herself enough of a handhold to get back out, just in case there was a hidden lock she didn’t know about. She pushed the door closed and trained the flashlight first on the camping lantern. She turned the camping lantern on and turned the flashlight off. Then she pulled out the straight-backed chair from the small table and positioned it so she’d be the first object in his line of vision.
She sat. And waited.
The hands of the clock moved, the battery power measuring the minutes and seconds. Her gaze moved in a steady pattern : Paul’s face, the clock, Paul’s face. 7:00. 7:02. 7:05. 7:06, 7:07, 7:08 ….
He stirred and raised one arm over his head, stretching, just as she did when she woke. His eyes opened.
The silence lengthened. Then Ria spoke. The words weren’t original but she thought them appropriate, all the same.
“Dr. Devlin, I presume?”
Chapter Twelve
He sat up, throwing his long legs over and out of the satin that line d the coffin. He stood.
“How the hell did you find me?”
“Long story.”
“I’d love to hear it.”
“Not as much as I’d love to hear yours, buddy.”
He laughed suddenly, the laugh that had so delighted her in the time they’d spent together the prior night.
“Did you know last night?”
“Let’s say I had a real strong suspicion. Do we talk here? Or take a stroll?”
“You know, I most generally do a few things when I first get up. Change my shirt and brush my hair. You know, personal things like that.”
“So change your shirt and brush your hair. I’ve seen a man’s chest before,” Ria assured him. Including yours, she thought, though she wasn’t going to tell him that. Yet.
He threw up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Or in other words, you’re not going to let me out of your sight, are you?”
“Not for the next few hours, no.”
“But I could, you know. Very easily. Get out of your sight.”
“And that surprises me not why? Because I’m all surprised out, you think? But it doesn’t matter. Because I know where you are and I don’t think it’d be real easy for you to move. And I will cheerfully haunt the holy hell out of you, just like you’ve haunted me.”
“ Excuse me?”
“ Long story. Do your thing if you want to hear it.”
He smiled and crossed to the chest of drawers . He pull ed out a fresh shirt that smelled of April Fresh Downy. Ria closed her eyes and shook her head. S urrealism , much? His back was to her as he unbuttoned the shirt he wa s wearing. Her story was
The old legends rushed into her mind. The wicked teeth, the mesmerizing eyes, the insatiable thirst. And she was going to watch him rise? Oh, yeah. Hell, yeah.
She moved outside, holding the edge of the door, and then stopped, frustrated. The door had no outside handle . H ow to secure it? What if someone came by, saw it cracked open, and decided to investigate? H ighly unlikely , but still. Not a risk she was entitled to take. She ran her hands over the outside door, feeling for a hidden catch, and then she felt it. There was a hollowed-out handhold. She pulled the door firmly closed and went back to her car. She didn’t think any security patrols roamed the cemetery past sunset, but there was no reason to take the chance.
She got behind the wheel, driving back down Riverside Drive to the College Street intersection. A short section of College Street ran down a steep slope, right to the old back gates of Rose Arbor . No one traveling down Riverside in the dark would notice a car parked at the base of that slope in front of the gates.
She locked the doors and jumped lightly up on top of the long solid wall, hopped down and jogged back to the mausoleum.
She went inside and pulled the screwdriver out of her bag, inserting the handle between the door and the door jam b to allow herself enough of a handhold to get back out, just in case there was a hidden lock she didn’t know about. She pushed the door closed and trained the flashlight first on the camping lantern. She turned the camping lantern on and turned the flashlight off. Then she pulled out the straight-backed chair from the small table and positioned it so she’d be the first object in his line of vision.
She sat. And waited.
The hands of the clock moved, the battery power measuring the minutes and seconds. Her gaze moved in a steady pattern : Paul’s face, the clock, Paul’s face. 7:00. 7:02. 7:05. 7:06, 7:07, 7:08 ….
He stirred and raised one arm over his head, stretching, just as she did when she woke. His eyes opened.
The silence lengthened. Then Ria spoke. The words weren’t original but she thought them appropriate, all the same.
“Dr. Devlin, I presume?”
Chapter Twelve
He sat up, throwing his long legs over and out of the satin that line d the coffin. He stood.
“How the hell did you find me?”
“Long story.”
“I’d love to hear it.”
“Not as much as I’d love to hear yours, buddy.”
He laughed suddenly, the laugh that had so delighted her in the time they’d spent together the prior night.
“Did you know last night?”
“Let’s say I had a real strong suspicion. Do we talk here? Or take a stroll?”
“You know, I most generally do a few things when I first get up. Change my shirt and brush my hair. You know, personal things like that.”
“So change your shirt and brush your hair. I’ve seen a man’s chest before,” Ria assured him. Including yours, she thought, though she wasn’t going to tell him that. Yet.
He threw up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Or in other words, you’re not going to let me out of your sight, are you?”
“Not for the next few hours, no.”
“But I could, you know. Very easily. Get out of your sight.”
“And that surprises me not why? Because I’m all surprised out, you think? But it doesn’t matter. Because I know where you are and I don’t think it’d be real easy for you to move. And I will cheerfully haunt the holy hell out of you, just like you’ve haunted me.”
“ Excuse me?”
“ Long story. Do your thing if you want to hear it.”
He smiled and crossed to the chest of drawers . He pull ed out a fresh shirt that smelled of April Fresh Downy. Ria closed her eyes and shook her head. S urrealism , much? His back was to her as he unbuttoned the shirt he wa s wearing. Her story was
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