The Girl Who Digs Graves (The Gravedigger Series Book 1)

by Willie E. Dalton

  “Son of a bitch!” I yelled in pain, and beat the shovel against the ground while continuing to scream.

  My shovel was quickly pulled from my grasp. Enraged, I turned to see Soren holding it, with a very concerned look on his face.

  I glared at him. “Give it back.”

  “What is the matter with you?” he asked, looking at me like I had two heads.

  Pouting, I sat down on the ground and took a swig from my bottle. “I’m not in the mood to talk about it.”

  “Are you finished throwing your tantrum?” he asked.

  Being referred to in such a childish manner rekindled my anger, and I looked at him with rage in my eyes. “No,” I said.

  Soren sighed. He dropped my shovel and walked over to me, and through a series of movements my inebriated self couldn’t follow, somehow scooped me up and threw me over his shoulder.

  “What the hell are you doing?!” I yelled, pointlessly beating against his back and trying to kick my legs, but he had too good of a grip on them.

  He opened the door to my place and set me down once we were inside.

  I had to blink several times and place my hand on the wall to keep from falling down. “I’m not in the mood for sex, and I don’t want to calm down. You might as well go home.” I stood facing him with my hands on my hips.

  “You’re a danger to yourself. I’m not leaving you,” he said without even raising his voice.

  I walked over to him and shoved him. “You’re not my protector.”

  Soren leaned towards me and swung the door behind me shut. His face was serious and his gray eyes turned cold. He stood straight and looked at me as he stepped forward, causing me to back up. My back hit the door, and he put his hand around my throat, squeezing, but not to the point of pain. My hands found his shoulders and tried to push him back.

  “I will decide what you need me to be, and when you need me to be it,” he said, with his face only inches from mine.

  I tried to swallow but couldn’t. “Fuck you,” I gasped.

  He softened his grip, and I pushed him away again. His hands pinned mine against the door.

  “Look, I know you’re pissed. You’re mad at the vamps because they did whatever vampires do, you’re mad at me for telling you they would do that, and you’re mad at yourself for getting dragged into their bullshit. You’ve searched for every reason to hate this place, and then you made some peace with it. Now things are rocky and you’re pissed off again. It’s fine: hate it, hate them, hate me—just get it out of your system so you can move the fuck on.” His voice resonated, like he was speaking to an army preparing for battle. His eyes were kind, and staring right into mine.

  I blinked at him and wriggled my wrists until he let go. Dammit, I did not want him to be right; the anger felt good and solid. I wanted to keep it and feel it, to touch it and hold onto it—it gave me a drive and purpose. I could keep feeding anger and it would grow. The anger could make me strong. I flexed my fists and wrists with the thought.

  As if he read my mind, Soren said, “Show me, show me how mad you are. Take it out on me. Let me see what this anger is doing to you.”

  Immediately, I hesitated. I could hurt him—at least, I could try. But I knew I cared about him, and no matter how angry I was, I knew I could not bring myself to cause intentional harm to someone I cared for.

  I slipped from between the door and Soren’s body, just out of reach, and shook my head no. I wrapped my arms around myself and dug my nails into the skin I could touch, to ground myself.

  Soren walked over to me and took my hands, laying them down on his forearms. “Use me,” he said. “Dig your nails into me, mark me with the pain you feel. I can take it... and I’ll enjoy it.”

  I searched his face and found no trace of anything but wanting. I laid my nails against his skin and dragged them down the length of his inner arms.

  Soren shivered and closed his eyes. I hadn’t drawn blood, but the scratches were obvious and would leave welts for several hours.

  “I can take harder,” he breathed.

  I stepped in against his body, and kissed him, a soft touch of lips. I could feel through the thick material of his pants, he was enjoying this. I tugged at his shirt and helped him take it off. I ran my hands up and down his back and chest and pressed my body against the warmth of him.

  I kissed his lips and neck and chest, and as his breathing became more labored, I dug my nails into his shoulders and scratched as far as I could manage. The strained sound he made was a good incentive to do it again, this time down his chest.

  I looked at all the little red lines I had made on his body, and couldn’t help but smile at my artwork. Soren had offered to take my pain: to let me hurt him, so I would hurt less. The pain I needed to let out so desperately was the pleasure he was seeking. It was the same for me the night I was pinned beneath him, at his mercy. We needed each other, needed each other’s pain.

  I kissed him again, this time, with happiness. “Thank you,” I whispered in his ear while I ran my nails lightly down his spine.

  His hands came up to play in my hair before suddenly pulling a handful hard enough to make me catch my breath.

  “My pleasure.” He scooped me up and carried me to the bed.

  A soft knock at my door woke me up. I yawned and stretched and touched the side of the bed where Soren had been before he left me.

  I smiled, recalling his goodbye kiss after we made love, and how when I asked him to stay he told me I had “been too bad.” I knew that actually he had made plans with Billy to check the fields for any areas that hadn’t been attended to lately. I had been drifting in and out of sleep since he had gone.

  The knock came again, this time a little louder. I stood up, wrapping my furry blanket around myself, and went to the door. I opened it, and was only a little surprised to see Grace.

  She stood in front of me in her leather jacket over a black t-shirt, and a yellow punk-rock plaid mini skirt with black ankle boots. An eye patch that matched her skirt was covering the hole where her eye once was, and makeup lessened the severity of the remaining scars that trailed down her face. Her lips were dark red, and in her hands she held a box of chocolate cookies.

  “Come in,” I said.

  “Hel, I uh…” Grace tried to get the words out, but was fighting back tears.

  I shook my head at her. “I’m not mad anymore.” I went to her and hugged her.

  “I’m not your mom, and Boude and I had no claim on each other. All I care about is that you are OK and happy.”

  She smiled and sniffed, wiping away a few tears, regaining her composure. “Going to get Rasputin was scary and hard—the hardest thing I’ve ever done.” She nodded as she remembered. “But I made it. I lost an eye, but I survived,” she proudly beamed. “Boude looked out for me, and never treated me like a child. He showed me what I’m capable of, and he believed in me. We’re happy.” She smiled, biting her lip, letting a tiny glimpse of fang show. “And I don’t regret getting turned at all.”

  I hugged her. “I’m proud of you. Still a little scared, but so proud.”

  We pulled back from our hug and both wiped a few tears away.

  “Lets have cookies,” I said, “…after I find some clothes.”

  Grace eyed me with an arched brow while I changed. “Why were you naked? You never sleep naked.”

  I grinned. “I’ll tell you about that while we eat cookies.” I paused. “Can you eat cookies or have coffee?”

  Grace laughed. “I can, I can eat whatever I want. I only have to have living blood to survive.”

  “Great! Can you put on some coffee?” I asked, not really wanting to hear about my friend’s new hunting skills.

  “Sure,” she laughed.

  We spent hours talking and laughing. Grace told me about the trip to get Rasputin, and the more I learned about the dangers they encountered, the more thankful I was to have been ignorant. Now that I had met the true Rasputin and not just the shell, I honestly wasn’t
sure which one was more dangerous—or even if that rescue mission had been a good idea. I, however, was not a vampire, and therefore didn’t get a say in the matter.

  I filled Grace in on my new relationship with Soren.

  “For real?” she shrieked.

  “For real,” I said.

  “You’ve kissed Soren?” she asked.

  “Oh, honey, we’ve done a lot more than that,” I told, her and felt my face heat up.

  She gasped. “Serious Soren…” Grace mused. “Well, give me details.”

  I told her as much as I could, right until he left my bed this morning. When I finally stopped gushing, Grace said, “You are absolutely glowing. He seems really great for you.”

  She smiled and flashed fangs at me. I knew she hadn’t gotten the hang of hiding them yet. Grace sipped her coffee and tugged at her eye patch.

  She saw me watching her.

  “The damn thing itches,” she said.

  “It doesn’t hurt?” I asked.

  “No, not anymore. The pain was pretty indescribable when it happened, but Boude made sure I fed quickly, and it healed—as much as it could heal, anyway.” Her silky black hair swung in front of the eye patch, covering half of it. I knew she had changed the direction of her natural part when she brushed her hair to help cover it.

  “It hasn’t hurt how you see yourself, I hope,” I added.

  She sighed. “Well I don’t love looking at the gaping hole where my cool new eyeball was, and the red scratches that will always look fresh aren’t super attractive. Makeup hides those pretty well, and the eye patch makes me look kinda badass, so I’m embracing my new look.”

  I smiled and agreed. “Between the eye patch and the fangs, you definitely look like someone not to be fucked with.”

  Grace smiled proudly.

  “Has Boude been good through everything?” I asked.

  “I couldn’t have made it without him,” Grace answered. “Andreas is great fun, but he’s a city guy. He was as lost as I was out in the cold mountains. And since the incident, Boude kisses both sides of my face every day, and tells me how strong and beautiful I am.”

  “I really am happy for you,” I said, and I meant it—mostly.

  “Death is a million times better than life,” Grace giggled.

  I smiled at her, so happy it had worked out that way for her. I wish it had been the case for me. I was learning to enjoy this new “life,” but I missed my home, my mountains, and still a huge part of me missed Raphael.

  It was good, though; I was letting go and learning the ropes of the afterlife. I had a good boyfriend, I had a job that was still helping people, and I had at least a few friends. I would be thankful.

  We chatted a while longer and made plans to meet up at least once a week to catch up and fill each other in on the goings on. I helped her pack up her things from while she lived with me, and hugged her goodbye, and missed her as I watched her go. The house wasn’t the same without her living here, but at least I could invite Soren over whenever I wanted.

  I was washing the cups Grace and I had used when I heard my door open again. I turned to see Soren peeking around the door.

  “Everything in here OK?” he asked cautiously.

  I laughed and motioned him inside. “Everything is fine.”

  “Good. I saw Grace leaving, and I think she was wearing an eye patch. I was afraid that might have been your doing, or that she drained you, or that you were just really upset again. Although, if you don’t mind me saying so, that worked out really well for me last night,” he smirked.

  Seeing Soren smile was one of my favorite things to witness. It was like seeing a rare white buffalo, or a unicorn. When I was the reason for those smiles, it felt even more special.

  “Last night worked out pretty well for both of us,” I added.

  “So the two of you made up?” he asked regarding Grace.

  “We did.”

  “Do I ever get to find out the whole story of what happened?” He walked over to the bar and sat down.

  “Will you come over tonight? I can tell you everything then. Fair warning though, I might get upset and need to be calmed down.” It was my turn to give him a sly smile.

  He looked at me like I wasn’t to be trusted, but then he pulled me in close when I walked over to him. Wrapping my arms around his solid body always gave me a thrill. I felt so small and delicate when he wrapped his arms around me.

  “What are you getting into now?” Soren asked me.

  “I think I’m going to head into town and get a few things. When I get back, I’m going to work.” I kept my face neutral, but was secretly excited about picking up some new lingerie to wear tonight to surprise him.

  “Sounds good. I’ll be in the fields.” He kissed me on the cheek and gave me a smack on the rear. “See you later.”

  I was alone once again. I stepped into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. I looked exactly the same as I did the day I died.

  My hair was still the same length, still the same shade of dirty blonde, and my eyes were still clear. I felt as though I should look older from all the things I had been through, but no, I’d look like this until whatever I moved onto next.

  I made a note to pick up some makeup, and maybe a curling iron. There was no point in wearing the sexy lingerie if the rest of me still looked like a Plain Jane.

  At the lingerie store, I picked up a black lace bra that tied up the back in a corset style. I tried it on in the store because I was worried about getting it home and not being able to get it tied by myself. Luckily, the laces were stretchy, and it wasn’t as complicated as I had feared. A pair of matching black lace boy-shorts completed the look, and even I had to smile at my reflection in the mirror. I knew it would look even better with my hair down, clean, and curled.

  I picked up some makeup and a curling iron next, and a small bottle of perfume that smelled like jasmine flowers. On my way home, I stopped in the coffee shop to have a cup of tea.

  I chose a table in the back corner where I could watch people if I wanted, or put my head down and tune everyone out. I was doing the latter when I heard my name.

  “Ms. Helena,” the smooth voice spoke.

  “Hello, Boudewijn,” I said before my eyes even fell on him. Oh but how they fell on him. His fiery hair shimmered as it fell around him in waves, his emerald eyes deep, and still disconcerting.

  “May I?” He waved his hand at a chair and I nodded.

  “Thank you.” He sat down. “Grace told me she came to see you this morning. She said things were better between you?” He made the last words a question.

  “Yes. We’re fine,” I said. I knew what question was coming next, but I hadn’t decided how I felt about it.

  “How are we?” He pointed his finger back and forth between us. “I would hate to think I’ve lost my friend.”

  “Boude, I’m not happy with you. You didn’t exactly keep your promise to keep Grace safe, and there is still a part of me that believes you are taking advantage of her naivety.” I didn’t sugar coat my thoughts. He was older than me by hundreds of years: he could handle the truth.

  He nodded. “Yes, I can see how you would feel that way.” He paused, then reached for my hand. I let him place his cold hand on mine, and looked at it like a bug I was thinking of swatting away. “And if I hurt you emotionally by being with Grace, it was never my intent. I truly believed you and I were only physical,” he cooed.

  I pulled my hand from beneath his and held it in front of his face to stop him. “That was not my issue with the relationship between you and Grace.” I had a whole list of other reasons just dying to make their way from my brain to my mouth, but I resisted. How much good would it really do? It would change nothing.

  I finished my tea in one long sip, and stood up to gather my shopping bags and leave. I looked at Boude, who was still sitting. “Despite my reservations, I wish nothing but the best for you and Grace. You are both my friends, and all I want is her happiness.” I le
aned in. “So if you hurt her, I will stake you, hide you where no one will ever find you, and leave you to rot for all of eternity.”

  Boude‘s eyes widened. “Understood.” The word was soft.

  “Oh, and keep Rasputin far away from me,” I added, and left.

  I put my things away and tidied around the house when I got home. I had picked up two coffee and vanilla scented candles on the shelf at the coffee shop, and I placed them near, but not too close to the bed.

  I grinned as I laid out my lingerie and new girly things to show off tonight. I was grateful Soren was open to the idea of a true relationship, but it bothered me that he still hadn’t truly let himself go with me. I was hoping my efforts tonight, along with how compatible we seemed to be, would help him cross that boundary soon.

  I went outside and gathered my tools, making my way a good distance out into the field. The sky was gray and dull, but just for a moment I closed my eyes and imagined being back home in my mountains. I pretended to feel the softness of the grass underfoot, and a light breeze blowing across my face. I stared into the evening sun as it went down, painting the sky with reds and golds and violets. I smiled at the memory of so many sunsets I took for granted, then opened my eyes and sighed.

  Soren and Billy were digging a few rows away, and I waved as I chose a spot behind them. As usual, I ignored the marker and began shoveling the earth away to free whatever soul was awaiting the next chapter.

  Before too long I had the body unearthed, and grabbed my flashlight to awaken the soul. I crouched down over the body, and for the first time, really looked at it.

  I looked up at Soren, and back down at the body in front of me. I looked back and forth between them for a long time, trying to figure out what I was feeling, and what I should do.

  Soren caught me looking at him and winked at me, his way of letting me know he was excited for tonight. I mustered up a smile for him, and thought about him: the man I could fall in love with; then I looked at the body before me and thought about him: the one I already loved.

  There, right before my eyes, was the man I had missed every day that I had been dead… Raphael.