Stolen Souls Page 4

  “You terrible, awful, bad dog!” Nyalla scolded, launching herself at the hellhound. She couldn’t stop the tears that ran down her face or the sobs that burst from her chest. The dog stank of excrement, wet fur, and dead things. His velvety pelt was thick with mud and goddess–knows what else. Still, she held him tight, burying her face in his neck as she cried in relief. He was okay — unhurt, even after his fight.

  “Don’t leave me again. Never leave me again. I was so scared.”

  Boomer pulled away from her, giving her cheek a quick lick with a smelly tongue and looking sorrowfully into her eyes.

  “You’re staying inside at night from now on. We took that stuff back to the cemetery, so there’s no need to go there ever again — even during the day. Agreed?”

  The hound flattened his ears, avoiding her gaze and dropping his nose to the floor.

  “Boomer? Agreed?”

  He shook his head, nosing something across the floor toward her. It rolled, landing next to her knee.

  The severed finger. Again.

  5

  So, tell me about this date you have tonight.”

  Candy’s tone was casual as she dredged her French fry through the ketchup and lifted it to her mouth. Nyalla was amazed that the woman never spilled a drop of the red substance onto her pristine white shirt, nor smudged the coral that carefully lined her lips.

  “His name is Eric Pearce. I met him at a cemetery where I’d taken Boomer for a walk. The police were there investigating vandalism, and I almost ran him over.”

  Candy coughed, tapping her chest with manicured fingers. “Unusual pick–up technique you’ve got there, Nyalla. I meant, tell me about him. What’s he like? How does he make you feel? Why did a girl who gets nervous ordering pizza agree to a date with Eric Pearce?”

  Nyalla hesitated, pushing the chips around her half–empty plate. “I don’t know. He’s nice. I guess I felt safe because he knows Wyatt and Amber.” And she’d looked into his heart and saw the sincerity there.

  “Come on, Nyalla. Why this man and not someone else? There are a million attractive, nice guys out there, and Wyatt knows just about everyone in a fifty–mile radius.”

  Okay, here goes. Nyalla took a deep breath. “I really don’t know. Whenever I think about tonight, I feel like I’ve got rocks in my stomach. I want to cancel, but I don’t know his number. Besides, he’s so nice. I don’t want to hurt his feelings. One night won’t kill me. Maybe I’ll actually have fun. It’s time for me to start forcing myself to do things that scare me. Otherwise I’m going to spend the next fifty years of my life on a sofa, eating pizza.”

  “Do you think he’s attractive?”

  Nyalla felt the heat rise through her neck and across her cheeks.

  Candy’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, no need to answer that question. I can see you do.”

  Nyalla nodded. The rocks in her stomach were turning into molten lava. If they didn’t start discussing something else, she was going to lose her lunch.

  “So, what are you planning to do this weekend?” she asked, hastily.

  Candy was undeterred. “Dinner out, and then what happens when he drops you off? Will you invite him in?”

  Lava. And the lava was threatening to set her face on fire too.

  “Maybe. I mean, if I feel safe. I won’t be drinking alcohol or anything — he’s a police officer. And Boomer will be there in case I get scared.”

  The werewolf unsuccessfully tried to smother a grimace into her napkin. Folding it neatly, she placed it back on her lap and composed her face into a stern expression.

  “This is not a subject I feel comfortable discussing, but I’ve raised two children. I guess I can have this conversation once more in my lifetime. Nyalla, have you thought about protection?”

  The girl frowned. “Of course. Wyatt gave me one of his guns, and Boomer can be very fierce when he needs to be. Should I purchase some pepper spray, or maybe a stun–gun?”

  “Protection, Nyalla. Because when you have sexual relations with someone, you need to think about pregnancy. You’re not even twenty yet. And then there are diseases you can get.” Candy raised her eyes toward the ceiling and shook her head. “I can’t believe I have to have this discussion again. Why me?”

  “Sex?” Nyalla squeaked. She’d seen lots of it on Sam’s “special” channels. Watching the naked bodies writhing on the screen was both repulsive and fascinating. Her mind flitted to an image of Eric, his hands roaming all over her naked skin, and she caught her breath.

  “Yes. Sex. Are you on the pill? Do you have … anything?”

  Breathe. Breathe. Nyalla gripped her hands together under the table and met the werewolf’s gaze. “I am not on the pill, but I know where the plastic wrap is.”

  Candy made that choking noise again. She looked as if she were in great pain for a second. “I’m not sure I want to know what you intend to do with plastic wrap. Have you been taking sex–ed lessons from Sam?”

  As if she would take lessons in lovemaking from a demon. They were extremely violent — not nearly as appealing as the sweaty couples on the television shows. The thought drove Nyalla’s embarrassment away, and she sat up straight.

  “No! I thought human males covered their reproductive organs with plastic wrap prior to sexual intercourse. Or is it a baggie? The baggies I have don’t seem to have the right shape, so I think I should use the plastic wrap instead.”

  “Condoms,” Candy choked out. “They’re specially shaped. Don’t use plastic wrap. Or sandwich bags. Or aluminum foil, for that matter.”

  “I don’t have any condominiums,” Nyalla confessed. Wasn’t that supposed to be some kind of apartment? Maybe the same word had dual meanings. Human words often did.

  Candy’s eyes bulged nearly out of their sockets. Slowly, she let out a huge breath. “Before you go home, we will stop by the drug store and buy some condoms for you to have at home. You do realize that I love you very much, or I would never be caught dead buying prophylactics?”

  Nyalla smiled. “I love you too. Are you sure I’m going to need these? I mean, this is the first date I’ve ever been on in my life.”

  “Trust me,” Candy said, taking another bite of French fry. “At your age, all it takes is one evening out and you’ll be dragging him upstairs to your bedroom. It’s best to be prepared for anything that might happen.”

  It was good advice. Prepared. Nyalla thought back to the finger, once again in her freezer. It had been on her mind all day. That and her impending date.

  “Candy, remember when I asked you yesterday about Boomer eating dead people? Well, there’s a cemetery near us where a person has been dug up, and I’m worried it’s him. The police think it’s teenagers, but Boomer took me there yesterday morning, and back there last night.”

  The werewolf set down her half–eaten fry and pushed her plate away. “Are you sure it’s him? I’m not putting it past Boomer to think dead people are an acceptable food source, but I’m sure we would have heard of a rash of missing bodies if this was something he regularly did.”

  Nyalla frowned. “He brought home a finger. Although, maybe it wasn’t him. There was a dead body there last night, and I don’t think he would have had time to dig it up between when we arrived and when he got away from me. But when he ran away from me, he was fighting with something — something big.”

  “A finger? A dead body? Does this have anything to do with the vandalism at Peaceful Pines that I read about in the paper?”

  “Yes, but it’s not just broken headstones. The policeman, Eric, said it was desecration.”

  “Well that can mean smashing headstones, or urinating on them, or any disrespectful activity. It doesn’t have to mean digging up a body. Are you sure it was a finger Boomer brought home? Not some dog toy meant to look like a finger? And it was pretty dark last night. Maybe what you saw wasn’t a dead body after all.”

  Nyalla leaned back in her seat, tapping her lip in thought. It seemed like a severed finger, but ma
ybe the humans here had convincing reproductions. She’d seen gag gift barf that certainly looked real enough. And the body … it had been dark, and she’d not wanted to get too close a look.

  “Maybe someone is playing a cruel joke? Teenagers are smashing stones and putting out old Halloween decorations?”

  “Maybe he was fighting with the teenagers who were doing it,” Candy added. A worried look creased her forehead. “You need to stay away from those places, especially after dark. Let the police deal with it. I’m worried the people doing this might hurt you if you stumble across them.”

  Nyalla caught her breath at the thought. Candy might be right, and she certainly wouldn’t want to run across law–breaking vandals late at night. Well, law breakers besides herself.

  She mused over the events of last night the whole way home, bringing up unwelcome images of the body by the gate. No matter how she tried to reason it away, Nyalla felt deep in the pit of her stomach that what she’d seen, what she’d felt was a real dead body. At home, she pulled the finger from the freezer and bag and inspected it. The skin slid loosely around the bone, on the verge of coming off. It didn’t feel like the joke items she’d seen at the mall.

  Stuffing the body part back behind the ice cream, Nyalla turned to see Boomer staring at her quizzically, his head tilted to the side, his ears forward.

  “Boomer, I need you to be honest with me.”

  The hound sat, staring attentively at her face.

  “Is this a real human finger in the freezer?” He nodded. “Does it belong to John Mayfield?” The hound nodded again.

  “Is the rest of his body still in the grave?”

  Boomer shook his head. Well, that clarified what Eric had meant when he mentioned “desecration”. Body out of the grave, nothing found except that finger Boomer had brought home. Her stomach twisted at the thought of what might have happened to the rest of the body. But surely if Boomer had eaten an entire corpse, he wouldn’t have saved one finger? And how could a dog of his size eat an entire person, hellhound or not? Maybe he buried the uneaten parts like other dogs did bones?

  Nyalla crossed her arms in front of her chest. What to ask next? “Did you dig him up?”

  Boomer shook his head emphatically, ears flying around his face.

  “Then who?”

  Boomer let out a low whine, eyes pleading.

  “Were you fighting with the person who dug up John Mayfield?”

  The hound cocked his head to the side, his forehead wrinkled. Okay, maybe that question wasn’t a simple yes or no.

  “Do you eat dead bodies? Dead human bodies?”

  The dog gave her an agonized look, then nodded, flinging himself to the floor and rolling over to expose his furry, tan belly. Ugh. Not for the first time, she wished Boomer could speak, although she wasn’t eager for details on his disgusting dining habits.

  “Oh get up already. I’m not going to punish you. Not yet, anyway.”

  Boomer jumped back into a sitting position, eyeing her intently.

  “Did you eat John Mayfield?” The dog shook his head. “Did you have anything to do with the corpse blocking the gate last night?” Boomer answered in the negative.

  This one would be a long shot, but she could hardly stand here all afternoon playing twenty questions. She had a date to prepare for.

  “Are you trying to stop the person or thing that is digging up these corpses?”

  Boomer nodded vigorously. He scooted on his rear closer to her and put a gentle paw on her leg.

  “Oh no, I can’t help you with this. I’m just a plain old human. I can barely even shoot a gun, let alone chase down criminals.”

  The hellhound patted her with his paw, nodding and looking up at her with pleading brown eyes.

  “You shouldn’t even be doing this. You might get hurt, or blamed by the police. Do you know what they do with bad dogs here? Animal Control.”

  Boomer looked horrified. It made her feel a bit guilty for scaring him like that. The thought of someone hauling him away, putting him to death in a cold, gray room filled her with dread. She needed to lock him up, keep him here.

  “This is a matter for the human police, Boomer. Not a hellhound, and certainly not a girl without magic, who knows less about this world than a two–year–old. The police will catch this person. We’ll just stay home.”

  Boomer straightened his back, and his eyes met hers — steely and determined. Slowly he shook his head. The paw rose up to tap her leg again.

  “The police can’t stop this person? It needs to be you?”

  He nodded, tapping her leg more firmly.

  “And me?”

  She didn’t have to see Boomer’s response. What could she possibly do to help? She couldn’t even summon the courage to go to happy hour. Or take a short drive to see the ocean. Grave–robbing criminals?

  John Mayfield. The news stories sprung from her memory and filled her with sorrow. He’d been a young man, not much older than her, with a wife and tiny child. One more child who would never know his father. And now, on top of that sorrow, his family had to deal with the fact that his body had been stolen from its grave. How cruel fate could be. How many more had to suffer an added pain before this person was stopped? And there was that finger in her freezer.

  “Okay. We’ll go out again tonight, and you show me what I need to know. I don’t know if I’ll be any help, but I’ll try.”

  She had to be brave. For Boomer, for herself, and for John Mayfield.

  6

  Eric stood at the front door, an expression of concern on his tanned face. Did she look okay? He was in jeans too, so she clearly hadn’t under–dressed for the event. Was it her hair in a long braid down her back to her waist? Most humans here had shorter hair, but she’d not been able to bring herself to cut it. Elves never cut their hair, and neither did their human slaves.

  “Thank God you’re okay. I saw the car in the bushes on the way up. What happened?”

  My dog dropped a severed finger in my lap. No, it was probably not an appropriate moment to bring that up. “Boomer distracted me, and I went off the road.”

  Lame, but truthful.

  “Your chin! Let me see.”

  His calloused hands were gentle as they tilted her face upward, tracing the bruising with a careful finger and examining the cut. She winced, and he breathed out an apology, stroking a finger along her cheek as he let her go.

  “I’m fine. Really I am.”

  Eric peered past her to glare at the hound. She turned and saw him, ears flat, a contrite expression on his face.

  “Do you want to come in?” Was that the proper thing to ask? Normally she’d never allow a stranger across the threshold, not even the pizza delivery guys that she’d come to know so well, but Boomer was here to protect her.

  “For just a moment.”

  He seemed suddenly stern and purposeful. Nyalla hesitated and opened the door wide, wondering at the change.

  “Did you go back to the cemetery last night to walk Boomer?”

  Her breath locked in her chest, and she stared at him appalled. How did he know? Did he use a reveal charm, or a divination spell?

  Eric pulled a hand from his pocket and extended a circle of leather toward her. At the end, a metal tag danced — Boomer’s collar.

  “Yes, I was there,” she squeaked, taking the collar. So much for their date. She was probably going to jail.

  “Nina, I know they probably do things differently in Finland, but that’s a crime scene. You can’t go there and walk your dog. Not for a few days at least.”

  “Am I in trouble?” The words came out a bare whisper. “Do you think I desecrated that grave? That I’m the criminal?”

  Eric rubbed a palm across his forehead and reached out to grip her arm reassuringly. “Of course not! Not unless you had a backhoe at your disposal, or a football team with shovels.”

  “Boomer didn’t do it either!” Her voice was stronger now in defense of the dog. She believed him, and n
o matter how many corpses he’d eaten in the past, he was innocent of this crime.

  “I know that.” Eric laughed, his hand caressing her arm before he pulled it away. “I’ve never seen a dog that can dig down six feet and tear open a coffin. You’re not in trouble; I’m just worried. For God’s sake, there was another grave robbery at the same cemetery last night! The people that are doing this are sick, and I don’t like the idea that you might stumble across them."

  Another one? So she hadn’t been mistaken about the corpse she’d fallen over. But where had it gone? Whoever had dug it up obviously had returned to retrieve it after she’d left. Her skin crawled at the thought they might have been watching her, waiting for her to leave.

  In spite of the horrific nature of the crime, Nyalla was relieved she wasn’t going to jail — or Boomer to the pound. Was her and Eric’s date still on, though? As anxious as she’d been about it, she felt an odd sense of disappointment at the thought that Eric might no longer want to see her.

  “Are we still going out tonight?”

  He smiled, and her eyes found the dimple in his cheek. So cute.

  “Absolutely! Let’s go eat. They’ll have the crabs ready for us, and we won’t want them to get cold.”

  Nyalla stepped out, and Eric fell in beside her, his hand barely brushing the small of her back as he led her to his car. Although the date itself scared the life out of her, his nearness didn’t. In fact, it felt nice having a stranger want to be around her, wanting to touch her, caring about whether she’d been hurt when she ran the Corvette into the bushes, worrying over her walking Boomer late at night through the graveyard.

  “My brother–in–law has a big truck. We can come over and pull the car out of the ditch if you want.”

  The thought of imposing on him, on this brother–in–law she had never even met, made Nyalla squirm. She was so helpless. It was frustrating not knowing what to do, or how to go about the most basic of human tasks.

  “Thanks, but Wyatt will be back next week. He’ll pull it out for me.”