Destined for an Early Grave (Page 21)

"At least don’t do it here." I stalled. "This is too public, and you’re freaking Denise out. Throw them in the trunk, and we’ll fight about it on the way out. If you win, you get to strangle them twice."

His lip curled. "I know what you’re trying to do, luv, but in this case, you make a valid point."

He dropped them, and they fell like twin bags of bricks. Harsh, gurgling noises came from them as they began to breathe again.

I heard some people approach. They were laughing, minding their own business – and about to stumble onto a messy murder scene and two half-strangled men.

"Spade, take our car and get Denise out of here," I said. "You can meet up with us later. Cooper, open the trunk, let’s get him in here."

"Blue Forerunner, mate, other side of the lot," Bones directed, tossing keys to Spade. Another set was passed to him in the same manner. "Ring you on the morrow."

Spade took Denise away, pausing only to stop the people from coming over with a flash of green.

"Get back inside, you’re staying longer," he instructed them. They nodded, did a one-eighty, and returned to the bar. Poor folks would probably stay all night.

"Cooper, I don’t want you getting bloody, you can’t green-eye someone into forgetting about it," I said as I hefted the lifeless man into the trunk. "Grab one of the others and toss him in."

Cooper complied, picking up the nearest guy and shoving him into the trunk.

Bones lifted the remaining man and shook him. "If I hear a single peep out of either of you, I’ll shut you up the permanent way. Now, before I lock you in the boot, where’s your car?"

"Unngghh," the guy in his grasp said. "Unngghh…"

"You damaged his windpipe, he can’t talk," I noted.

"Indeed." Bones scored the tip of his finger across a fang, smiled wolfishly into the man’s terrified face, and thrust his bloody finger into his mouth. "Now, answer me. Softly. Or I’ll rip your tongue out and ask the other bloke."

With even that small drop of Bones’s blood, the man could speak again, if not very intelligibly.

"…white ‘ickup ‘ruck…"

"The white pickup truck with the Confederate flag near the front?" Bones queried with another shake. "That it?"

"…essss…"

"Who’s got the keys?"

A wracking cough, then a pained moan followed his response. "Kenny…’ocket…’illed him…"

"In the dead bloke’s pocket?"

"Unngh."

"Kitten, if you would?"

I began digging inside the pants of the body. Nothing, front or back. Then I patted down the shirt pockets. Bingo.

"Here."

"Cooper, take their ride and drive it to Twenty-eighth and Weber Street. Wait there, we’ll pick you up when we’re through."

"Keep your cell handy, just in case," I added, not commenting about the irony of a black man driving a truck with a Rebel flag.

"Right then, mate." Bones dropped the man into the trunk and slammed the lid down. "Watch your heads."

Chapter Ten

CANDLERIDGE PARK’S SIGN SAID THERE WERE a number of scenic trails and nature paths, but that wasn’t why we were there. No, we were there to bury a body. Hopefully, just one.

Fabian floated above the trees, having hitched inside Spade’s car without a word. He had to be touching something to travel long distances. The exception was if he was in a ley line, which I still didn’t understand. Something about invisible energy currents that acted like spiritual highways. Later, I’d ask him about it in more detail. Right now, I was arguing with Bones. Again.

"Spade acting in the heat of the moment is one thing, but if you kill these guys now, it’ll be in cold blood, Bones. They should go to jail, plus get some brainwashing to have them march in every Take Back the Night parade, not to mention civil rights, as soon as they’re let out. But they have families who don’t deserve to grieve over their sorry dead asses."

"Everyone has someone who cares for them," Bones replied without pity. "Even monsters. It’s not fair, but it doesn’t change the necessity."

"The gun wasn’t loaded," I muttered, switching tactics. "I checked. Besides, it’s not like anything would have happened. I had it under control – "

"Is that even the bloody point?"

Exasperated, Bones shut off the engine and turned to face me.

"You can’t hear their thoughts. I can. This isn’t the first time they’ve done such a thing, and even if you stopped them and flogged them into hysterical apologies, their intentions were the same. If they weren’t human, would you be arguing with me over killing them?"

He had me there. From the look in his eyes, he knew it, too.

"Vampires and ghouls have their own rules." I tried again. "They’d know what would happen if they did such a thing. These bozos didn’t get a copy of that playbook. They deserve jail time, yes, but not death."

Bones snorted. "Why didn’t it occur to them that they were doing something so appalling, if they were caught, they’d be executed on the spot? It’s not my fault that vampires have a fairer form of punishment for ra**sts than humans do."

I put my head in my hands. It was aching. Granted, it probably hurt a lot less than Bushy Hair’s must have when it hit the parking lot concrete. Logically, Bones was correct. But it still felt wrong.

"You’ve obviously made up your mind, so do whatever you’re going to do. You’re too strong for me to stop you."

Bones gave me an unfathomable stare before climbing out of the car and opening the trunk. I listened as he made the two men carry their friend into the woods. Then Bones ordered them to dig with their hands. It was maybe forty minutes before they were done. Then I heard something like a resigned sigh.

"This goes against my better judgment, Kitten…Look right here, both of you. You will go to the nearest police station and make a confession of every blasted crime you’ve ever committed, excluding only this burial tonight. When you are arrested, you will refuse an attorney, and when you are in front of a judge, you will plead guilty. You will spend your allotted time behind bars knowing you deserve every second of it. Now take your worthless lives and go."

When Bones came back to the car, I was still wiping at my eyes. He shut the driver’s door and let out a self-deprecating snort.

"Has it been so wretched lately that letting scoundrels escape punishment is the highlight of our time together?"

The words were flippant; the expression on his face wasn’t. It was filled with a regret that I caught before he masked it back into composure.