Page 5 of House of Pawns
ITAKE THE PORSCHE.
There isn’t a particular reason. It’s the first time I’ve driven it. But for the past four days, I’ve felt like there was a rabid animal trying to claw its way from my belly up my throat to suffocate me. It’s just millimeters from doing so.
And at the moment, speed and adrenaline seem like the cure to kill it.
I drive ninety on these forty mile an hour highways. My windows are rolled down, letting in the frigid winter air.
I park on the narrow road in the graveyard. The frozen ground crunches beneath my feet. The clouds in the distance threaten snow.
I pass grave markers. Old. New. In-between. Countless mothers and fathers. Children. Enemies. Lovers.
All these lives. And I’ll only ever get to experience this one.
It’s something that’s always baffled me.
We are bound to only one life.
The day has not yet broken, so I have to take care not to trip over myself and those that rest in the ground.
The breath in my chest stills as the place comes into view.
I was here only days ago. I watched them lower Ian into the ground. Returned to find him covered in six feet of earth.
But now, my toes rest at the edge of a hole. The earth mounds upward. It avalanches back toward a narrow opening and splinters of wood and chunks of cement are mixed in it.
This is a still and eerie place.
Ian has always been strong. His will is fierce. He’s stubborn as hell.
Even death and a grave could not hold him.
The sound of a car on the road draws my eyes up. And suddenly, my blood goes cold.
Assuming Ian came straight to the Conrath Estate after he resurrected and crawled out of his grave, approximately nine hours have passed.
This sight of Ian’s grave is terrifying. I try to think of another explanation for what someone else would see here, and there isn’t one. Someone crawled out of this grave. In this town, most people will know exactly what happened.
In the past few weeks, people have been shot and arrested for their fear of the vampires. The mayor’s own wife has been Bitten and is on the loose. If people see this grave, I can only imagine the terror that will increase in this town.
I crouch to the earth, and begin shoving the piles of it back into the hole.
I didn’t bring a shovel. But this can’t wait a second longer.
Dirt stains my hands, freezes my fingers. There are streaks of it all over my jeans, caking the sleeves of my coat.
“What the hell are you doing?”
My heart leaps into my throat and I whip around.
Sheriff Luke McCoy stands five yards behind me, hands on his hips, a look of confusion and horror on his face.
I don’t have an answer for him, so I go back to my task.
“Alivia.” I hear him walking toward me. “What are you doing, and why does it look like someone crawled out of that grave?”
“Because someone did,” I huff. My hands are numb now, making it difficult to maneuver the dirt. Thankfully, it’s still freshly turned enough that it’s not packed yet.
“And who might that have been?” he asks and his voice hardens with each syllable.
