Free Fifth Grave Past the Light by Darynda Jones Page A

of shampoo when I accidently swallowed some; then we found his bed again and I lay with him until he fell asleep.
    He was simply stunning. His lashes fanned across his cheeks, his lips slightly parted, his breathing deep and even. He looked like a little boy. Content and serene.
    With a deep regret, I wiggled out from under him despite his sleepy protests and grabbed articles of clothing as I tiptoed to his door. What amazing willpower I had. What fantastic self-control. I’d come over for one reason, and everything but that reason seemed to be resolved. When I reached the door, I saw what looked like another note. But this was his door, not mine. I peeled it off, then angled it until I could read it by the light of the fire.
     
Is that all you’ve got?
     
    With a smile spreading slowly across my face, I dropped everything I’d just picked up and went back for more.

5
     
    I may not have any skeletons in my closet, but I do have a little box of souls in my sock drawer.
    — T - SHIRT
     
    I woke up to a very warm Reyes pressed against my backside and a very cold Artemis curled against my front. It wouldn’t have been so bad if she were a smidgen warmer than the arctic circle. Artemis was a gorgeous Rottweiler who died a few months ago. She’d been protecting me ever since, and she had an incredible way of ripping demons to shreds and sending them back to hell, then rolling over for a belly rub.
    Unfortunately, she snored. Why a departed Rottweiler who didn’t actually need oxygen would snore was beyond me. I nuzzled her neck, then wiggled until I was out from under covers and arms and paws. Reyes lay there, his face the picture of innocence. True, it was a sexy, sensual kind of innocence, but it did magical things to my nether regions. I wanted to get one last kiss before the evening ended but didn’t dare wake him again. I’d be sore enough as it was. He had an arm thrown over his forehead, his right palm open. The burns from the bullet were already healed.
    The next time I gathered articles of clothing and headed for the door, I actually made it out of Reyes’s apartment. The frigid air in the hallway startled me. I shivered and hurried to my own apartment about ten steps away. I hadn’t locked it. I would never learn.
    Unfortunately, my apartment was just as cold as the hallway. I changed into a pair of pajamas that said instant human. just add coffee. and scurried between my sheets. Figuring I’d never get any sleep, I contemplated for the thousandth time what it would mean if Reyes was setting fire to half of Albuquerque, albeit the seedy half.
    And Garrett. What had he gone through? What had him so utterly obsessed with the dark underbelly of hell? Had he really been tortured? How was any of that even possible?
    As I lay wondering about things I didn’t want to wonder about, I heard a scratching sound under my bed. Had Artemis followed me? The sound started out as a faint scuffing but grew louder the longer I lay there. It wasn’t like a dog pawing, but more like someone scratching on wood, as though trying to claw through it. Then again, that could just be my imagination getting the better of me.
    Not much scared me, but someone scratching under my bed as I lay on it was way too urban legend for me. Next I would hear a drip only to discover it was the blood of my boyfriend hanging dead from a tree. Luckily, I had no trees in my apartment. Then I thought,
Hey, a tree would add a nice touch.
    No, I didn’t need to think about things like that at the moment. Someone was definitely under my bed. Scratching.
    I inched to the side, leaned over it slowly, and pulled up the bed skirt. A set of huge blue eyes stared back at me and it took every ounce of strength I had not to scream like someone being mauled by a wild animal. I bit down and met her gaze. She looked about seven, judging by the size of her eyes and the shape of her round cheeks. She was lying on her back, scratching the wood that held my mattress.