Page 27 of A Wild Darkness

CHAPTER SEVEN

STEVIE

After Lux and I finish up at the coffee shop, I finally feel better about partnering with Sebastian on this project. I give her a quick hug goodbye, and I’m on my way to the cemetery while it’s still light out. I switch my cell phone to silent so I don’t forget when I get there.

I started grave rubbing only a few years ago to relieve the occasional stress. It’s a calming experience and brings a sense of peace each time I create a new rubbing. The hobby turned into something more meaningful when I began displaying the pieces of art in the lobby and administrative offices at the mortuary. And eventually, I began rubbing the gravestones of my clients and giving the copies to their families.

The sky is dark from the low evening clouds as I pull into the cemetery right at dusk. Once I’m parked in the spot closest to the entrance, I grab my bag from the back seat and swing it over my shoulder, with one hand on my pepper spray just in case and then get out of the car.

The trees hang low over the metal gate and enlarged archway leading into the protected grounds. I have only about an hour of light left before night falls, and then I’ll have to pack up. Walking between the rows of gravestones, I scan each one looking for a headstone that’s not too bumpy or broken. Some have tailored grass and white roses that grow on the sides, while others are overgrown with weeds and tall grass, showing signs of neglect. It only takes a few minutes to find the perfect one. A beautiful, smooth stone with deeply engraved letters.

“Hi,” I whisper, lowering my bag of supplies onto the damp grass at my feet. With a quick look around, I bend down, coming only a foot away from the headstone. “Do you mind if I make a piece of art with your headstone?”

Sitting cross-legged on the grass, I reach over to grab my sketchbook, charcoal crayon, and tape from inside my bag. Pulling my arms over my head with a quick stretch, I prepare to get started.

The cemetery is quiet except for the distant chirping of birds and the soft scrape of my brush against stone. I sit in front of a weathered headstone, carefully cleaning dirt from the engraved lettering.

“People should visit more often,” I mutter to myself. “The dead deserve better.”

Then a masculine voice speaks from directly behind me. “Stevie.”

I whip my head around and scream. Pure instinct takes over. I yank the pepper spray from my jacket pocket and press the trigger. A red mist shoots into the air around Sebastian.

“Jesus Christ!” He staggers backward, both hands flying to his eyes.

I freeze. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry!”

“You pepper-sprayed me!”

“You snuck up on me in a graveyard!”

“I said your name.”

“You whispered it like a serial killer!” I shout, thinking I didn’t hit him directly in the face, and if he actually was a predator, I need to work on my aim.

“My eyes are on fire.” He bends forward, blinking furiously as tears stream down his face.

I bite the inside of my cheek, but it doesn’t help the laugh that escapes. I climb to my feet. “I’m sorry!”

Sebastian looks at me with watery, red eyes. “Are you laughing?”

“Nope.”

“You are.”

Another laugh slips free. “I’m not.”

“You absolutely are.” His expression darkens. Or at least I assume it does, because it’s difficult to tell through all the blinking.

“You think this is funny?” He wipes his eyes on the inside of his leather jacket. “I can’t see.”

“You can see,” I say. “And why would you be lurking behind a woman in the middle of a cemetery anyway?”

“I wasn’t lurking,” he defends himself. “What are you doing out here?”

“What are you doing here?” I bite back. My heart is still pounding from being startled.

He crosses his arms over his chest, annoyed with more than just being pepper-sprayed. “You weren’t answering your phone.”