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There was a gazebo near the outer wall which seemed like a nice place to sit. I walked up to the structure, which had white roses growing along the latticed walls. Suddenly an acid scent wafted toward me. What was that?
I continued on the path and it led me deeper into the garden. The smell intensified. Just as I thought it was about to come to the walkway, I saw him. A shirtless man stood next to a pile of dirt, holding a shovel. His back was turned toward me. Perhaps it was the gardener. Curious to know what he was burying, I slowly walked closer.
A single light coming from the gazebo shone onto his back and my heart thudded when I saw the crisscross of faint gray scars. There were at least a dozen. Someone had tortured this man. I wanted to run back to the car, but my legs kept moving forward. They walked toward adventure, toward a new experience, to… life.
I ducked underneath a branch and felt something pull at my hair. Impatiently I plucked a few strands of hair loose from some leaves. All my attention was on the gardener who was digging a hole.
My breath hitched. Next to him was something wrapped in a tarp. Oh, my God. He was burying a body.
He turned and our eyes met. Thick lashes which almost seemed too long for a man surrounded his dark eyes. I felt something stir deep inside me. His sleek, black hair brushed over the corded muscles of his shoulders. I had no idea God made men like him. First the golden Adonis, now this Greek deity. Maybe my hormones were acting up because I was almost eighteen and had never even been kissed by a boy. I was looking at the hottest man I’d ever seen. Maybe I should skip teenage boys and dive right into this man’s arms.
I knew I should feel something other than a morbid curiosity about what he was doing, but it was overwhelming me. When you’d looked Death in the eyes countless times, there wasn’t much that could strike fear into your heart.
The too-hot-for-his-own-good gardener looked like a beautiful prince of darkness—as if he’d walked straight out of one of my gothic romance novels. But the heroes in my fantasies had nothing on him.
The foul smell grew more pungent as I got closer. Something bad had happened here.
He pinned me with his gaze and it felt as if an electric current raced through me. It wasn’t out of fear—okay, notjustout of fear—but it was also from the poorly hidden pain in his eyes. Something else was in his gaze too. Pain and…rage. For a split second there was blood lust displayed on his gorgeous face.
I waited for him to say something. It felt like my lungs had seized up and my tongue had frozen. A few beats passed in complete silence. Part of me wondered if I was going to end up in the same grave next to the person who had obviously been burned, based on the rancid smell that hung over the garden like a dark cloud.
I looked a little closer and noticed a silver dog tag in the dirt. It had aCetched onto it. Relief washed over me, together with sadness because I realized someone had burned this man’s dog.
I edged closer. “I’m sorry about your dog.” He still didn’t acknowledge my presence; he just put the body into the grave and started covering it.
“Was he yours?” I asked.
The man nodded, staying silent.
“What was his name?” I tried again.
“Cerberus.”
“Guess that makes you Hades,” I mumbled.
He turned and looked surprised. “You know your classics.”
“I was home-schooled.” Also bedridden for years so I’d had a lot of time to read. The ancient Greeks had the most amazing stories.
“Beats being street-schooled.”
I looked at the second, smaller shovel next to him. “You need a hand?”
“Death doesn’t bother you?”
I’d been friends with the Reaper for years. “He’s just dead. Everyone dies.”
I got an approving look. “True.”
That was so not the reaction I expected. “Aren’t you going to say that I’m too young to be this cynical?”
“One can never be too young to become disenchanted with life.”
“That’s…” I didn’t know what that was. “You sound…”
“I believe the word you’re looking for is morbid.” He put down his shovel. “How old are you?”
“Eighteen.” He stared at me until I almost started squirming from discomfort. “Fine, I’m seventeen, but I’ll be eighteen the day after tomorrow.”
