Hell's Son

Chapter 2

The hollered query startled Isobel. She'd not expected to encounter anyone at this time of day. She rose from the fresh soil, the disturbance in it recent enough that the grass had yet to take root.

For a moment, she didn't reply, instead focusing on the man bearing down on her - a young man, tall, and broad of shoulder, his hair dark as a raven's wing. His eyes. . . she shouldn't have been able to see the hue of his eyes in the gloom, and yet, they almost seemed to glow, something in them sparking.

Who is he? A breeze swept past her, a wind with a hint of warmth and the smell of things burnt. How strange.

The man who'd demanded to know what she did slowed his steps until he stood rather close. Too close.

He's in my space. Isobel wanted to retreat, to move away from the strange energy pulsing from him. And he did pulse. She couldn't see auras, not like her great-aunt, but she could feel it.

What is he?

Her grandfather might have known, even her mother or sister, who studied the magical arts. Isobel, though, her power was weak in comparison, she preferred to pursue other interests.

As quickly as she sensed it, the strange sensation disappeared. Vanished.

Did I imagine it?

"I'm still waiting for an answer, duckie."

She blinked. "Duckie? Is that an insult or some sort of crude endearment?"

"It's what I call anyone foolish enough to come traipsing into my domain after hours."

"Your domain? We're in a cemetery. Are you the grim reaper watching over the lost souls buried here?" Her lips twitched as she teased the man.

"Hardly grim." He smiled at her then, a blinding, brilliant smile of a thousand watts that might have dropped the panties of most women. But this girl, raised with morals and a family that strongly insisted that "good girls kept their legs shut," did not fall for the masculine charm.

"I did not realize the cemetery was closed at night. I am sorry to have disturbed you." She kept her words polite because who knew what might set off this odd man. She didn't get a sense of danger from him, and yet, at the same time, she prickled with awareness.

Beware.

"It's not safe out here at night," he warned.

"How can it not be safe? The dead do not rise." Not without help, and those who could achieve such a thing were rare.

"It's not the dead you should fear." He tried to sound ominous, and yet the twinkle in his eye gave him away.

"I just wanted to pay respects to a classmate of mine who died in a car accident. I was unavoidably detained." More like locked in her room because her grandfather claimed the portents were dangerous for the family due to a certain planetary alignment. She'd finally managed to slip out once Mars moved into a more beneficial spot.

"Say goodbye to your friend then and go." He crossed his arms and kept watch.

The ardent stare had her fidgeting. Her fingers rose to clasp her pearl necklace, running the smooth beads through her digits. "Must you watch me?"

"Yes, how else am I to make sure you're not going to vandalize the grave?"

Her mouth rounded into an O. "Why would I do that?"

"Perhaps she stole your boyfriend. Or slept with your daddy. Maybe you want a place to express your artistic abilities."

She blinked. "Do people seriously come here just to create art? Do I look like I have paint with me?" She lifted her arms and twirled, the cardigan over her blouse thinner than the evening warranted and lacking pockets. Her slim-fitting slacks didn't bulge, and yet he eyed her intently.

Up and down his gaze roved. "Maybe I should pat you down to be sure."

When he took a step forward, she took one back and crossed her arms. "You will not touch me." Even if the thought made her shiver. I am shivering because it's cold. Nothing else. "I'm not here to vandalize. And you've made it blatantly clear I should come back in the daytime. Sorry to have disturbed you."

"I'm not."

"Not what?"

"Sorry you disturbed me. You're cute. What do you say we go get a drink?" His lips once again unleashed his deadly smile.

The conversation veered, and she found herself confused, mostly because the right response involved her telling him to take a hike, and yet, a part of her wanted to say yes.

An even dirtier part of her thought she should have let him frisk her.

"No." She shook her head. "I came here to pay my respects, not get hit on."

"Who said anything about hitting?" He lifted his hands. "I don't mind a bit of kink, but I draw the line at smacking. Unless it's a slap on the ass. Then I'm all in."

The urge to just gape at him proved strong. So strong. Was this man delusional? Pity because he possessed a handsome face and what seemed like a decent body under his bulky jacket. "I think I should go." She turned away from him, and he grabbed her arm. She felt it even through her sweater.

Felt heat licking all her nerve endings.

The world around them hushed.

A strange prickling filled the air.

Magic.

She might not have much of it, but she could feel it, especially when someone wielded it. Whirling back, she opened her mouth to ask the man what he thought he was doing, only to see his face creased in puzzlement. "I didn't think it was supposed to storm tonight."

Pulling her arm free of his grip, she addressed him. "It's not a storm. Do you have a weapon handy?" she asked as a cool breeze, a wind carrying with it the smell of decay, brushed her face.

Before he could reply, a hand grabbed her ankle, a hand that projected from the freshly dug grave.

"What the f**k?" he exclaimed, his eyes wide with surprise.

Isobel, on the other hand, didn't panic.

Whack.

The sword she'd pulled from the ether - a scabbard that existed on another plane of existence - severed the limb, but it didn't stop the body from boiling free from the earth. It wasn't the only grave affected.

Isobel could only hope the groundskeeper ran and hid or knew how to fight because all around, the ground trembled as the dead rose in search of life.