Midnight Hunter. Kait Ballenger
Читать онлайн книгу.
cruel twist of fate, if you asked him. He and Ash had enacted every precaution to ensure they weren’t caught during their nighttime visit to see the very dead Mrs. Jennifer Foley, who had tragically passed of an aggressive bout of breast cancer two years earlier. When Shane and Ash had arrived at the gravesite, they’d known straight away that all their efforts might be for naught. The recently disturbed dirt suggested Mrs. Foley’s coffin might have been moved. But they had to check to be certain. To make matters worse, the cops showing up to save the day—er, night—was just total shit luck. To the unknowing eye, their work to burn Mrs. Foley’s bones in order to put her murderous spirit to rest appeared to be little more than vandalism. But as a card-carrying Mensa member with an IQ of over one hundred and fifty-five and multiple PhDs, there was no way Shane was letting two overly nosy members of the Rochester PD screw up his plans. He would figure out how to get them out of this.
“Evenin’, Officers.” Ash grinned, his Louisiana charm as thick as the syrup in any sweet tea south of the Mason-Dixon Line.
“Grave robbing, boys? That’s a Class E felony.” The second cop sauntered forward flanked by his partner, who held the flashlight—and they both had guns. From the smug swagger in their walks, you would have thought they’d busted Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid rather than two men armed seemingly with nothing more than a pair of shovels in a historically insignificant subsection of the sprawling cemetery.
“It’s not what it looks like, Officers,” Ash said, spouting the least original line Shane had ever heard.
Really, Ash? You couldn’t come up with a better opening line?
“Not what it looks like, huh? Do you know how many times I’ve heard that one, buddy?”
Shane cleared his throat. “Thousands of times, I’m sure, Officer, but we have a permit to exhume the contents of this grave site. If you’ll check my back pocket, you’ll see we’re law-abiding citizens. No need for the gun.”
The officer remained silent for a moment, examining Shane as if his face held the secrets of the Lost Ark. “Fine,” the officer said tersely. “But I’m patting you down in the process.” He glanced to his partner. “You take him.” He nodded toward Ash. The officer holding the flashlight clicked it off, leaving nothing but the headlights of their patrol car to illuminate the scene. After Shane’s eyes readjusted to the darkness, he eyed the cop who’d headed over to Ash. The officer had tucked his gun away. Perfect.
Shane turned back to the officer standing in front of him.
The man waved his hands at Shane. “Okay, arms up, bud.”
Here goes nothing. Shane lifted his arms. “Sorry, Officer.”
He head-butted the officer in the bridge of the nose. Stars swam in front of his own eyes. He blinked them away as he slammed his fist straight into the policeman’s face, a quick punch Shane hoped would be enough to subdue the man in blue. No such luck. The officer stumbled back, crimson blood gushing down the front of his uniform. The officer reached for his nine-millimeter, just as Shane tackled him. They toppled onto the frozen ground with an audible oof as the mucky taste of dirt coated Shane’s tongue. Without delay, Shane straddled the man’s chest and socked him in the face again. The officer swung, but missed, and Shane hit him one more time. A moment later the officer lay flat on his back, as unconscious as a sack of potatoes. Adrenaline pumped through Shane’s veins and he released a long breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Pain pulsed through his forehead.
Humans were so much easier to take down than supernatural creatures. A small sense of pride rushed through him. Clearly, his combat training with the Execution Underground hadn’t been lost in the past few years as he’d worked less physical crimes. He worked out enough to keep himself in top physical condition, but his combat skills hadn’t been tested for quite some time. Not too shabby a job, he decided.
Shane wiped off the officer’s blood on the thigh of his jeans before turning toward Ash. His friend was sitting in the dirt, shaking his head at the second officer, who he’d clearly just finished taking down. “Poor son of a gun.”
Shane nodded despite the slight ache in his skull. The officers had only been trying to do their job and nothing more. Unfortunately, that job jeopardized Shane and Ash’s mission, and supernatural crimes were the royal flush to the PD’s full house—they trumped the day-to-day job in importance every time.
“Was that a head butt I saw? I knew you were smart ’n’ all, always usin’ your head, but damn. I didn’t know you’d be so literal about it.” Ash brushed a few stray strands of blond hair from his face.
Some of Shane’s own hair had pulled loose from his ponytail and was dangling over his eyes, but he didn’t bother shoving it out of the way. “I had to do something to get us out of that.” He pushed himself off the ground and walked over to Ash, offering his friend a hand and helping him up. They both brushed themselves off, but it was pointless. They’d already been covered in dirt from digging.
“Bang-up job, my friend. I didn’t know ya had it in ya.” Ash grinned from ear to ear and clapped Shane on the back.
Shane returned the grin. Yeah, he had it in him, but he would need a couple aspirin now for his head once they got out of here. But man, was he glad they’d gotten out of that. Now they just needed to get out of here. He grabbed the shovel he’d dropped a few minutes earlier. “Let’s hurry up and get this done before anyone else shows up.”
Ash grabbed his own shovel, and they both resumed digging again. Shane jabbed the shovel into the frozen ground, heaving all his weight into the effort. The tip of the blade pierced the recently disturbed dirt over and over again, with a near-silent swish each time he drove it down. He frowned. Damn it. He kept hoping to hear the crack of his shovel against the wood of the casket anytime now. Digging up graves, then salting and burning the body to put a nasty spirit to rest? Not his forte by a long shot. Helping his fellow hunter was all fine and dandy, but he’d been ready for this monotonous task to be over before it had even begun.
“Just about another foot,” Ash said. He stood on the other side of the grave, shovel in one hand as he wiped a sleek sheen of sweat from his brow with the other.
Despite the chill in the early-April air in western New York, sweat was pouring off both of them like it was the middle of July in Vegas. Digging a six-foot-deep hole was tiring as hell. Period. Good shape or not, as far as Shane was concerned the task majorly sucked, especially with the thought of more cops showing up niggling at the back of his mind.
He threw another pile of dirt over his shoulder. “The next time I agree to help you, remind me how much I despise doing this and how much trouble we almost got into with those cops.”
Ash laughed as he continued to dig. “You know I really appreciate this.”
Shane nodded. “You’re welcome.”
Another jab into the dirt, followed by a loud thunk.
“Bingo.” Ash raised his shovel over his head in victory.
Shane chuckled. He brushed some of the dirt off the casket lid, revealing what was no longer smooth lacquered mahogany. “You take way too much pleasure in your job if you enjoy this.”
Ash grinned before he lodged his shovel in the side of the casket to help pry open the lid. “When you’ve dug up as many graves as I have, you learn to take small pleasures where you can find ’em. I can’t count how many times I’ve dug a huge damn hole just to find the grave site was moved, and that seemed pretty likely with this one, considerin’ somebody had already been diggin’ here. I’m just ready to burn this sumbitch,” he said.
Shane followed Ash’s example and lodged his own shovel into the crack of the casket opening.
“On three,” Ash said. “One, two, three.”
Together, they hoisted the lid open. A cloud of dust and debris billowed from the inside of the casket, sending them both into coughing fits. Shane stared down into the dirt, hoping