Free Boneyard (The Thaumaturge Series Book 2) by Cal Matthews Page B

splintering it messily with his huge fangs. Another pile of bones lay at his feet, still thick with bloody meat and I gazed at that pile for a long time. I drank more water. Leo selected another bone and cracked it in half. The thick and viscous water lapped at my ankles.
    “Have you been here this whole time?” I asked.
    “I said, the door was locked.”
    Dark water swirled around my calves. I wanted to walk across the kitchen and sit down with him, but the water was too deep. I filled the glass, drank. The water rose to my knees.  My thighs.
    “Do you need help with those?” I pointed to the bones and he looked up at me. His eyes shone gold.
    “You need to clean them yourself,” he said and held out a bone, red flesh still clinging to it. Bits of flesh caught in his teeth, his mouth smeared with gore.
    I couldn't move forward, not into the deep. My fingers just barely skimmed the end of the bloody bone when I reached for it.
    “Leo,” I implored, straining for the bone. The water soaked into the hem of my shirt. Small quick things brushed up against me, tapping against my skin, testing me with tiny teeth.
    Leo gave the bone a little shake, impatient, encouraging me to take it.
    “You have to clean them yourself,” he insisted.
    The water closed over my head.
     
    I woke up with tears on my face, my chest heaving. I blinked at the darkness, confused, frightened. I didn’t know what was real.
    “Shh,” Leo whispered, snuggling closer to me under the covers. I turned into his arms, resting my head on his bare shoulder while his hand snaked under my shirt and stroked my sweaty back. Hooking my calf over his legs, I pulled him closer, clutching him while my racing heart calmed.
    Leo turned his head and pressed his nose into my hair. “I’ve got you,” he said softly. “I’ve got you.”

 
    Chapter 6
    Friday I decided that enough was enough and closed the store early again so I could drive out to the ranch during daylight. My work ethic really had never been my strong point but I still felt a twinge of guilt as I sat in my truck, watching a trio of ski-bums examine my hours of operation with confusion. Cody still hadn't returned any of my calls or texts, though, and cornering him at the ranch seemed to be my only option. And truth be told, the store felt a little ominous to me right now, what with fucking creepy lawyer crawling about, asking questions.
    Not to mention the corpse.
    I turned off the pavement and onto the muddy stretch of road that led to the ranch, driving past sun-drenched stands of willows, snow melting from their branches. Five minutes from town and mine was the only vehicle on the road, the occasional cluster of mailboxes the only indication that there was anyone for miles. Snow-dusted fields stretched on for miles past the fences of looping barbed wire. The sun warmed the cab of my truck and I felt my shoulders loosen and my legs fall a little wider as I relaxed into the seat. I turned the radio to the classic rock station from Missoula and just sang along through the static.
    Despite not having any official stake in the Brock ranch, I spent plenty of time there, especially during calving and branding seasons. I rattled over the cattle guard and parked my truck beside one of the enormous horse trailers. Some of the ranch dogs came spinning in the yard, barking wildly until they recognized me and I took a second to crouch down with them, scruffing their ears and the tops of their tails.
    Their noise had alerted the ranch to my presence. Aunt Sharon came out on the porch, dressed in her riding clothes. The cows had been moved to winter pasture, but Aunt Sharon also raised champion quarter horses.
    “Hi Ebron,” she called, giving me a little wave.
    I stood up and walked over to say hi, noting with a sigh how her smiled looked just a little too forced. If I was a holiday and birthday phone call kind of kid, Cody was a complete mama's boy. He had probably told her everything, including the