Page 4 of Begging for Mercy
Butthis?
A slow grin curves on his lips as he slinks closer, the sheen of sweat clinging to his neck shining in the moonlight. Handprints and smudges on his neck and shoulders transform him from skeleton back into man, or at least into a hybrid creature that’s at once both dead and alive. The spark of fire in his eyes as he moves closer sends shivers down my spine. I crawl across the cool tile floor to make my escape out the broken window in the back corner of the mausoleum. Shards of glass crunch under my feet, making me even more nervous, but if I turn around and run through the front door, Reaper will catch me.
He might think playing hide and seek is a fun type of foreplay, but I’m not interested in playing games. I need to get out of here before he sees me. I hoist myself through the window as carefully as I can, but my caution isn’t enough. A shard of glass slices my forearm and drips blood onto my leggings. I land on the ground hard, but I don’t have a second to catch my breath. Scurrying behind the next row of graves, I make myself as small as possible as I check my injury.
It’s deep, but hopefully it won’t need stitches. I should have a hand towel in my bag. I can wrap up—shit.My bag. Peering around the tombstone, I catch a glimpse of Reaper staring at the broken windowsill before turning back around. I left my bag behind. He’s going to find it any second now.
I stew in silence and consider my options. Depending on the kind of man he is, he’ll either be disinterested in my ritual and walk out or he’ll be curious enough to poke around. Myhands shake as I picture him rummaging through my bag and finding my mother’s ashes tucked inside her scarf. I know that I shouldn’t take them out of the house, but I hate seeing her stuck on a shelf all day. Dad will dust around her and sing songs with every sunrise, but I know that she wouldn’t be happy seeing him mourn like this.
At least when I take her out to the cemetery, she can spend time with the rest of our family.
I’m not sure why Dad decided to cremate her instead of bury her with our ancestors. I haven’t asked. Grandma Star says that he’s lonely without her near—but if we believe what Mom told us before she got sick, she isn’t really locked inside that box. She’s in the air. The breeze blowing through the trees. The morning dew wetting every blade of grass or soft flower petal in spring. Each ray of sunlight kissing our faces.
I guess that means I shouldn’t bother taking her ashes out of the house, either, but… it makes her feel closer.
Sighing, I clutch my forearm to stop the bleeding and watch for Reaper to leave the mausoleum. Minutes pass. Ten. Twenty. Another man appears, this one’s lips pinched in a tight scowl, and enters the same way Reaper had, without an ounce of hesitation. I’d recognize him if he worked here, so he must be another college student. An upperclassman? Graduate student? If the rumors are true, Reaper didn’t bother graduating with his class, but he hangs around all the same. Picking up girls with pretty smiles, flirting with jocks on their way back from practice, keeping an eye on the study body like it’s his job to keep a head count.
Another rumor puts him as a staff member, but no one on staff should fuck with students for the hell of it. I don’t know what his game is, and frankly, I don’t care.
I just need to get my mother’s ashes back.
A few more minutes pass before the stranger leaves, then Reaper follows, slipping his hands into his pockets as he quickly scans his surroundings. If he’s looking for me, he won’t find me. I have zero interest in an introduction.
Once they’re far enough away, I quickly rush back into the mausoleum to grab my belongings. My mother’s urn is resting on top of the scarf I wrapped her inside, and I breathe a sigh of relief as I run my hands over the box’s smooth surface, its lock still in place. Everything looks untouched, more or less. Did he leave my things alone, or will I open my bag to find a dead rat stuffed inside?
My anxiety finally relaxes, and I wrap up the food and return everything to my bag. All I need is my student ID to drop off my things inside my locker?—
I rummage through my bag in search of my wallet. When I come up empty, I remove everything and search again. And again. Shaking my bag, I pray that it’s found a hidden compartment or slipped out when I wasn’t looking. I check the room, but there’s nothing other than dust and shards of glass. My wallet is missing.
“Did he…?” Tossing my bag over my shoulder, I step out into the humid air and follow the path Reaper and that man took. I don’t hide in the shadows this time, keeping to the stone walkway as I search for them. If he took my wallet, he’s an even bigger sack of shit than I thought. Mugging college kids? How low can you get? It’s not like I have any money. All that’s in there is my student ID, a picture of my parents, an old coin my grandmother gave me, and a handful of business cards forMorningstar Mortuary, our family business. Oh, and a debit card. But my bank account balance has been pitiful since I stopped working part-time at the funeral home.
What could he possibly want with any of that?
A scraping sound catches my attention, and a man’s sharp voice cuts through the air. “Are you planning to stand there all night?” There’s a metallicclangthat makes me flinch. “Hurry up. I want to go home before the sun’s out.”
“Or what, you’ll shrivel up and die?” Reaper snickers. “You could use some sun. You’re pale as shit. It’s no wonder you aren’t gettin’ any. The nerd look is fine, but you have to use it to your advantage. Would it kill you to work out with me? Anyone who lifts your shirt is gonna be?—”
“I have abs, asshole!”
“Sure ya do.”
The stranger uses his shovel to sling dirt at Reaper. “Shut the fuck up. Nobody asked you.”
The sight of grave-digging is so familiar that it’s soothing. I’ve watched my family dig graves ever since I was born, and I’ve even helped a time or two. We stick to traditional methods and dig with our hands in honor of the dead. Plus, bringing heavy machinery in to dig would damage the land and the graves already set on the property. The Morningstar method is old-fashioned, but it’s for a purpose.
I doubt these two are digging by hand for sentimentality, though. But why would they dig at all? It’s illegal to rob graves, and it’s not like this is a secret spot in the back corner. They could easily be caught by someone… like… me.Shit.I need my wallet. Confronting Reaper is a stupid move, but what are my other options? Hoping he drops it? Following him home and digging through his laundry? What if he doesn’t even have it?
Sighing, I hide my bag off the walkway and move towards Reaper and his partner. They’re working in silence now, the familiar cut of shovels digging into the earth making me feel even more at ease. They’ve made good progress in a short time, meaning they’re either experienced or rushed for time. As I approach them from the side, I get a perfect view of their profilesin the moonlight. Reaper is as imposing as ever. The body paint does little to hide his muscles, and being shirtless means that I’m given a full view of his back. Stripes of naked skin and smeared paint reveal toned shoulders as he throws topsoil into a growing pile. He’s focused on his task, hardly looking where he’s throwing.
His partner, however, wears a scowl as he digs. The gloves on his hands are skin-tight, but so are the rest of his clothes. A black tank top rides up his abdomen as he cuts the shovel into the earth, and the tears in his skinny jeans threaten to rip wide open. He’s more meticulous about digging, prepping the sides of the hole while Reaper sticks to the middle to deepen the space.
I walk up to the tombstone overlooking the plot. Horror quickly washes over me as I realize which section of the cemetery we’re in. None of these plots are vacant. These men aren’t digging a new grave for some fun Halloween prank. They’re disturbing an old one in some kind of sick joke. “Hey, assholes,” I call out, unable to stop myself. “You’re disturbing the dead.”
Both of their heads snap up at the sound of my voice, and Reaper’s lips curve into a wicked grin. Ignoring him, I head for the other guy, determined to pry the shovel from his uncaring hands. How could they disturb someone’s resting place like this? Do they not care at all? What about the families?—
My foot catches on something, and I pitch forward, screeching as I tumble into the dirt. I hit the mound looming outside the grave and slip in the loose dirt, falling unceremoniously fast and hard onto the open earth. The impact knocks the air from my lungs, and my vision blurs. But before I can react, someone grabs me under my arms and lifts me up, setting me back on my feet only to shove me against a dirt wall. The hole didn’t look that deep, but apparently my depth-perception needs some work. We’re at least three feet under.
While I’m still searching for my next breath, a hand clamps over my mouth. The damp scent of earth and decay fills my nose and tickles my lips. Luckily for me, I’m used to a little grave dirt. I glare at Reaper as his gaze settles on my face, the sparkle of amusement in his eyes making me even grumpier. He crowds me against the wall, giving me no room to move.
