The Dark Divine(24)

My eyes shot back to the hem of Pastor Clark’s robes and stayed there until it was my turn to sing. The organ belted out the notes of the song, and I tried to choke out the words. My face began to quiver. I knew I was on the verge of crying, but I pushed that urge way down like always and pursed my lips together. I couldn’t sing another note or I’d lose it. And Charity’s voice was so high and shaky that I couldn’t even tell what part of the song she was singing. I looked out the windows at the dreary, smog-filled sky—even the clouds looked like they were about to burst with emotion—and that’s when I saw him.

Daniel sat in the back of the crowded balcony with his arms folded and his head bowed. He must have felt the heat of my stare because he lifted his chin. Even from that distance, I could see that his eyes were rimmed with red. He looked down into me for a moment, like he could see every painful feeling I was holding back, and then he lowered his head again.

Curiosity replaced grief as I sat down in my seat. Charity wrapped her arm around my shoulders, no doubt mistaking my shocked expression for extreme emotional distress. The Duke daughters’ droning eulogy went on for ages. Angela Duke even worked in a few well-placed jabs at Dad. When the service finally ended, and the procession of those mourners headed for the grave site had filed out, I watched Daniel move toward the balcony staircase that led to an outside exit. I jumped out of my seat, waving off someone who tried to thank me for my singing—or lack thereof—and pulled on my charcoal-gray dress coat and leather gloves.

“Mom wants our help,” Charity said.

“In a minute.”

I made my way through the aisle, sidling around the church ladies who murmured about the lack of heart in Pastor Clark’s portion of the service. Someone pulled at my sleeve as I passed and said my name. It may or may not have been Pete Bradshaw, but I didn’t stop to find out. It was like an invisible thread was hooked into my belly and drew me out the doors of the parish and into the parking lot. My pace quickened without any direction from my brain when I saw Daniel hop onto a motorcycle in the far reaches of the lot.

“Daniel!” I called as the engine roared to life.

He shifted forward on the seat of the bike. “You coming?”

“What? No. I can’t.”

“Then why are you here?” Daniel looked at me then, his mud-pie eyes—still splotched with red—searching my face.

I couldn’t stop it—that invisible thread pulled me right up next to him. “You got a helmet?”

“This is Zed’s bike. You wouldn’t want to wear his helmet if he had one.” Daniel booted the kickstand. “I knew you’d come.”

“Shut up,” I said, and climbed on the back of the motorcycle.





ONE HEARTBEAT LATER




The hem of my simple black dress hiked up my legs and my matching Sunday heels suddenly seemed sexy as I placed them on the footrests of the bike. The engine roared again, and the bike went flying forward. I threw my arms around Daniel’s waist.

Cold air clawed at my face, ripping tears from my eyes. I buried my face deep into Daniel’s back and breathed in a mixture of familiar scents—almonds, oil paint, earth, and a hint of varnish. I didn’t even question why I was on that bike. I just knew I was supposed to be there.

We rode in a straight, steady shot for downtown. Daniel’s shoulders tensed and trembled like he craved more speed but was taking it slower for my sake. The sun was drowning in a crimson sunset behind the city skyline when we finally pulled over in a deserted alley in an unfamiliar part of town.

Daniel cut the ignition. The following silence made my ears throb.

“I want to show you something,” he said, and got off the bike with ease. He hopped up onto the curb and kept walking.

Shocking pain surged up my frozen legs when I hit the ground. I wobbled and swayed as I followed, like it had been years since I stood on solid ground. Daniel disappeared around a corner.

“Wait,” I called, trying to pull my more-than-wind-blown hair back into the French twist it had been in before we left the parish.

“It’s not far,” his voice wafted back.

I rounded the corner and went down a dark, narrow alleyway. Daniel stood at the end of the passage in front of two brick pillars and a wrought-iron gate that blocked his path.

“This is my sanctuary.” He grasped one of the iron bars of the gate. A brass plaque on one of the pillars said: BORDEAUX FAMILY MEMORIAL.

“A graveyard?” I hesitantly approached the gate. “You hang out in a graveyard?”

“Most of my friends worship vampires.” Daniel shrugged. “I’ve hung out in a lot of weird places.” I stared at him, openmouthed.

Daniel laughed. “This is a memorial, not a cemetery. There are no graves or dead people—unless you count the security guard. But this is the back entrance, so we shouldn’t run into him.”

“You mean we’re sneaking in?”

“Of course.”

A jangling noise echoed from the street behind us. Daniel grabbed my arm and pulled me into a shadowed alcove of the adjacent building.

“They lock the gates in the evening to keep vandals out.”


His face was so close to mine that his breath grazed my cheek. The deep chill in my bones disappeared and warmth tingled through my body.