Page 80 of Grave Possession (Grave #2)

Chapter Sixty-seven

Mallory

I ’ve pushed this off for as long as I can. If I don’t find a release soon, I’m going to crumble and hurt someone who doesn’t deserve it. Nox returned to patrolling the highway two days ago, it’s what has held me back from leaving the house. What if he spots me driving into Corpsewood?

I left thirty minutes after him today, knowing he’d still be at the office as I’m flying down the road towards the city.

Dusk paints across the sky, a breathtaking swirl of yellows, oranges, and bright reds.

I try calling Bellamy for what feels like the fiftieth time.

Instead of going immediately to voicemail, the robotic voice tells me “Your call cannot be completed as dialled.” Did he fucking block my number?

Or change his? Goddamnit, there goes my only fucking lead.

The green road sign ahead tells me the Corpsewood city limits are getting closer.

I watch the tree line, waiting for the hidden shit-hole of a bar to poke its head out of the shadows.

It’s one of those blink and you’ll miss it kind of places and I did, about three or four times the night Dennis demanded I pick him up after my shift.

He embarrassed me so thoroughly when I finally got there, I made sure to never forget its location again.

Mountain Peak Pub pops into view, and I flick on my blinker.

Switching lanes, then crossing the highway before pulling into the gravel, pot-hole ridden lot.

It looks the same as it did back then, even though I haven’t been here in almost a year.

Ancient, weather-worn wooden shingles encase the building, the heavily faded blush paint flaking off and littering the ground sporadically.

I’m sure the local wildlife living in the woods surrounding the area don’t appreciate the lead paint leeching its chemicals into the ground.

My eyes wander over to my mask, it lies innocently on the passenger seat gazing vacantly back at me.

I know Bellamy demanded I stay away, but I can’t.

I refuse to live in fear again. Constantly wondering if this will be the day whatever my parents were wrapped up in comes for me.

He might know me, but I don’t know him. I won’t be stupid enough to believe anything a stranger tells me.

Maybe he wants me clueless. It would make swooping in to kidnap me and sell me off to the highest bidder that much easier for him.

I might not have any proof to validate my hunch, but I spent the last two days with Nox gone, going over everything I do know.

Randy phrasing me as Dennis’s meal ticket, and the man at the Haunt’s threat of something worse than the death penalty stand out the most amongst everything.

It’s why dear ol’ step dad kept my v-card intact.

He was going to sell me into the sex trade.

Hyping up my purity, along with the way I can suck dick better than any whore in the county, only would’ve racked my price higher and higher as demand for my services grew.

This isn’t even the darkest of thoughts that plague me in the middle of the night when Lennox is working.

My most nagging question is…

Did Nox know?

I want to believe he didn’t. If he had, he would’ve told me. I’m also sure his first kill wouldn’t have been so restrained if he’d known my parent’s true intentions. But I won’t know anything unless I confront him, and let loose all the information I’ve been withholding.

Exiting the car, gravel crunches under my feet as I cross the lot.

Gripping the brass handle, I heave one of the heavy doors open.

Behind the bar is lit up with a wealth of liquor bottles, each one reflecting the different coloured lights of the neon signs adorning the walls.

I cast my sight around the area, looking for an empty seat.

Noticing immediately nothing in this bar matches or has any flow.

I’m roughly shoulder-checked from behind, making me jolt forward, and scramble to right myself before I fall on my face.

“Don’t linger in the doorway,” a voice grumbles as it passes me.

A disgusting pig of a man aims his eyes in my direction, visibly stunned when he notices I’m a woman.

He’s tailed by another man, this one gangly and greasy.

They snicker before moving to sit at a vacant table .

Nox’s woodsy scent wraps around me, wafting up from his large sweater that hides my figure, and the hood that conceals my long hair. It calms me, recentring my mind. I’m here to gather information, not make a scene. If I happen to stab someone, well then…I’m sure they had it coming.

Moving in the opposite direction of the two men, I find a small table pushed off in the corner. It’s only big enough for two, and partially concealed by shadows, sitting directly under a camera.

Perfect.

I pull the hood further around my face, tilting my head down, and keeping my eyes on the floor as I approach the seat with the best vantage point.

“Be right with you,” a female voice calls out.

I assume she’s talking to the men, but I raise my hand in quick acknowledgement nonetheless.

Sitting quietly, I observe the bar. Any one of these degenerates look like they could’ve known Dennis.

At a table by the door, a man passes a small baggie of white stuff under the table to a woman who looks like she’s in the grips of a drug-induced spiral already.

At the bar, a man slides a wad of bills across the sticky bar-top to a woman who looks barely legal.

She takes it with a sexy smirk upon her face, then follows him toward the bathroom.

Her smile immediately dropping when he turns his back.

What is this fucking place? It deserves to be burned to the ground.

No wonder Dennis frequented this cesspool.

The red-haired waitress comes out from behind the bar, stopping at the table with the two men. She places their bottles of beer down while the pot-bellied one runs his hand up the back of her thigh. “Hands off, Dylan,” she says nicely, even though her eyes look like she wants to rip his face off.

His grip tightens, “Or what?”

She leans down, placing her tattooed elbow on top of his hand on the table.

Resting her jaw in her palm, I watch her lean all her weight onto it as she flutters her thick lashes at the repulsive being in front of her.

His face hardens, fighting back a wince, as she says, “I’ll get someone else to serve you, and I know how much you love Regina.

” A saccharine smile pulls across her face as she stands, clearly pleased with herself.

The man, Dylan, scowls, rolling his eyes. I don’t think he likes Regina at all.

The gross one, who reminds me way too much of Officer Johnson, slaps her ass hard enough to knock her off balance.

The loud clattering of the tray against the table draws everyone’s attention as her face flushes with rage and embarrassment.

“Oh, come on, Jessie. Lighten up. You know we like to mess around.”

“Unfortunately,” she grumbles. They both belt out a laugh as she makes her way over to my table.

A flicker of recognition flits across her face as she stands table-side. Fuck.

“Hey, I know you.” Double fuck.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, we met at the Henderson Haunt. Remember?”

“Uhhh… I don’t think so.”

“You were welcoming people at the gate with that massive mountain of a boyfriend, right?”

Ugh, I’m screwed. Better to lean into it so I can do damage control than lie and raise suspicions. “Yes…” I hesitate. “Who were you?”

“Oh fuck! DUH! I was in costume.” Given it was a Halloween party I’d be surprised to find out she wasn’t dressed up.

Be nice, Mallory.

“What were you? Help me jog my memory, I feel like a total ass for not remembering you,” I offer.

“A ghost,” she replies, and I almost choke on my own spit.

“That was you! With the Dundee wannabe?”

“Yes!” She plunks her ass down in the chair across from me. Alright, I guess we’re doing this then. “That was the wildest fucking party I’ve ever been to.

“Was it your first time?” I ask.

“Yeah. None of us had ever been before, but the guys know how obsessed I am with spooky shit, so they got the tickets and surprised me.”

She’s obsessed with creepy things, too? A spark of intrigue flits to life in my chest, maybe I can make a new friend, since the one I did have wants nothing to do with me now. Jessie’s small stature and badass personality remind me so much of Victoria that a pang of hurt shoots through me.

“Did you have fun?”

“Hell yeah,” she says. “And I know you did.” She wiggles her eyebrows comically, and I groan aloud. Pulling the hood around my face as embarrassment heats my cheeks.

“I’m never going to live that down.”

“Hey, I won’t yuck someone’s yum. Everyone in the crowd was really into it. Whatever gets you off,” she shrugs. Jessie’s completely unfazed talking to the woman she witnessed getting eaten out like a week and a half ago, and that’s pretty fucking cool of her.

“Thanks.” Could I be any more socially awkward? What do I say next? “So, do you like horror movies?” Fucking kill me now.

She levels with me with a look. “Michael or Ghostface?” she whips out faster than I can register.

“What? Oh. Uhh…” My face burns with humiliation. “Ghostface,” I reply.

“I should’ve guessed that one, hey. Considering what your boyfriend was wearing on Halloween.”

“If we follow that logic then I guess you like fucking ghosts and guys with big knives.” I know I do.

“Fair,” she jokes. “Your turn.”

“Okay, umm…”

A sharp whistle cuts through the bar, drawing our attention. Those two dicks from earlier are snapping and waving their fingers at Jessie. She rolls her eyes, rising from her seat. “Coming,” she calls over her shoulder. “Duty calls,” she says to me.

“They always harass you like that?” Something new slithers beneath my skin, the sensation not completely unwelcome.

“Yeah, and they aren’t even the worst of the scum that strolls in here.”

“Why not do something about it?”

She shrugs. “It’s my job, I don’t want to make a scene.

Even if I would enjoy snapping their fingers in a completely different and entirely painful way.

” She winks. I immediately like her a hundred times more with the little hint of violence she infused into the conversation.

Even if she doesn’t enjoy a good bloodbath every now and then, at least me joking about it won’t send her running for the hills.

“HA,” I belt out a wholly unfeminine laugh. “I get it.”

“Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be back.”

“Okie dokie.” Who the fuck am I? Who says that?

Jessie turns, moving easily through the growing crowd of people until she’s sidled up at Dylan’s table. I watch the men paw at her, and I hate it. I detest that I know how she feels in this moment. Trapped. Vulnerable. Worthless. Nothing more than a warm piece of meat.

Abruptly getting up from my seat, I beeline my way out of the building. I need some fresh air before I make a scene. The last thing I need is to make a fool out of myself over some woman I clicked with for five seconds.

I move across the lot, and slide back into the driver’s seat of my Civic, glancing longingly at the mask in the passenger seat.

The porcelain coloured exterior gleams in the moonlight beaming through the windshield, highlighting the fine line cracks discoloured by the blood I couldn’t scrub out.

I pick it up, heavily debating if I should give in to what’s nagging at me.

The two men with no knowledge of how to keep their fucking hands to themselves exit the bar, obnoxiously laughing to each other.

All hesitancy bleeds out from my mind as the once vacant eye sockets of the mask fill with my glowing whiskey orbs, pupils blowing wide as I steal a glance at my reflection.

Excitedly, I wait. Watching intently as my heart pounds in my ears .

Finally, the men round the corner, disappearing into the shadows.

I let my restraint crumble completely, wholly surrendering to the malice calling to me from the pits of my psyche.

I exit the little black car once more, this time with a sinister smile painting my face beneath the mask as I silently stalk towards the darkness they disappeared into.