The Haunted - Jessica Verday [99]
My breath started coming faster and faster. Deep gasps and painful hitches pulled at my chest and raked my sides. What was that? I strained my ears. Footsteps? Hoofbeats? Behind closed eyelids I saw fiery breath, a missing head, eyes that glowed red in the dark, and—
And then I opened my eyes.
There was nothing out there. No footsteps. No menacing horseman. Nothing coming after me.
I eased my grip on the wall, and my body relaxed. The cemetery changed back into a peaceful resting place, and the moon came out of hiding, revealing the path in front of me.
Clear and unobstructed.
I took a deliberate step away from the wall. And then another. All I had to do was make it to Caspian. And if he wasn’t there, I’d go find Nikolas and Katy.
My feet knew the way, and I walked quickly. It was surprisingly cool for an almost-end-of-July night, and a shiver went up my neck. I turned for a second to make sure the shiver wasn’t there for any other reason, but the cemetery was empty.
I was almost there when I heard it.
A faint clink. Metal against stone.
I stopped.
The clink turned to a scratching noise. Someone started whistling.
Turning slowly, I saw a grinning Vincent coming up the path below me, from the Old Dutch Church section. He must have parked his car at the church down there.
The clinking and scratching continued. Paused. Continued.
He was walking past a row of tombstones, and in his outstretched hand was a set of keys.
With each stone he passed, he set the keys to granite, dragging them slowly across the surface.
The sound set my teeth on edge. So did the whistling.
I took a step toward my destination, away from him, and he kept advancing until we were in this bizarre advance-retreat dance. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that Caspian’s crypt was only a couple of feet away. I prayed for his Spidey senses to start tingling.
Vincent wagged a finger at me like I was a naughty child. “Now, now, now. What are you doing in a cemetery at night, Abbey? Talking to the graves?” He struck a mock prayer pose and clasped his hands together piously. “Or are you visiting a dearly departed friend?” Rage welled up inside of me, momentarily pushing aside the fear. “What do you know about that, you bastard?”
Vincent laughed. “Spicy. I didn’t think you had it in you.” He looked me up and down. “No, I really didn’t think you had it in you. Then again, redheads are more my type.” He licked his lips slowly and smiled.
“So it was you!” I said. “You were Kristen’s secret boyfriend!”
“Boyfriend.” He shook his head like he was amused.
“What did you do to her?” I exploded. I didn’t care who heard me. “She loved you, and you took advantage of her!”
He spread his hands wide. “I didn’t take anything she didn’t freely offer.”
“Bullshit.”
He stepped close, and I flinched involuntarily, remembering the last time. He smiled a beautiful smile, then grabbed my wrist and flipped it, palm side up. “My mark. You still have it.
That makes me happy.”
I yanked my hand out of his grip.
Studying me carefully, he said, “You know, you and I… well, I wouldn’t go as far as to say that we’re alike, because we’re not.… But we do have… common interests, shall I say? We’re both connoisseurs. Collectors.”
Vincent held up a finger. “You collect scents. Oh yes, I know all about you. And me?” His face grew sublime. “I collect noises.”
My eyes flickered over to the mausoleum door. Was it my imagination? Or did it move a little? “Noises?” I said.
“Oh, yes. There are any manner of noises that one might think would be the ones to collect. The soft coo of a happy baby.” He looked disgusted. “Or the satisfied grunt of a man who has just had a beer and a babe brought to him at some local titty bar.” The door moved a little more. I was sure of it.
“Are you list-ening, Ab-bey?” Vincent jerked on my arm, and I nodded, trying not to cry out. “Good. Now, sounds. Did you know that the female body makes a certain sigh—a gasp, an intake of breath—when