The man scooped me into his arms and held me close. I pressed my face into his shoulder and held on to him like he was Superman. I wished he was Superman - then he could fly me away from danger.
"Are th-they gone?" I asked. My purse dangled from my right side, slapping at my hip. "Did you s-scare them away?"
"No." His hands twitched underneath me. "Um . . . oh. You're . . . uh, breathing hard on my neck."
"So what?" I was terrified , and he was complaining about my breath control?
He swallowed heavily. "It's a sensitive spot."
"Here?" I asked, allowing my breath to roll over his skin again. Why was I asking him about the area under his left ear? Knowing where not to breathe on him wasn't all that relevant.
"Hm-mmm." He sounded discombobulated.
Well, so was I. I lifted my head and glanced down. The wolves were a couple of feet away, pacing. Their fur was thick and glossy - shimmering like black silk in the moonlight.
"What are they doing?" I whispered.
"Deciding whether or not to eat you."
I squealed and tried to glue myself to . . . to . . . "Who are you?"
"Ralph Genessa. And you are?"
"Scared out of my freaking mind." I tightened my grip around his neck.
"That's an unusual name."
"Ha ha ha . Have you done Leno yet?"
His brows rose. Oh, right. My name. "I'm Libby Monroe."
The wolves snapped and snarled.
I screamed. Jamie Lee Curtis had nothing on me.
Ralph almost dropped me. He staggered back a few steps, his hands gripping me hard, but he managed to keep us both upright.
"Would you mind not doing that again?" he snapped. "They won't hurt us."
"You're an optimist, aren't you?" Death was three feet from us. Stinky, slobbery death . My heart tried to escape, first by trying to pound out of my chest, then by attempting to climb out of my throat. The wolves continued to show their teeth and growl, but they didn't try to maul us. Why wouldn't they leave?
"Please, Ralph," I begged. "Make them go away."
"I'm not the Dog Whisperer."
"Jeez! Give it a whirl!"
He laughed.
Startled by this reaction, I peered up at him - and felt socked in the stomach. How could I have thought he was only pleasant-looking? That smile transformed his face, which would've given Brad Pitt a run for his money.
Despite our thick clothing, I could tell he wasn't soft and flabby, either. My rescuer was better built than I thought. His muscles flexed under my legs and back where he held me. An electric thrill zipped up my spine, which was far better than the fear still doing the jig in my stomach.
"Don't worry," he said.
"You're kidding, right?"
"I was talking to them," he clarified.
To them? To the wolves ? Uh . . . why had I thought leaping into his arms was a good idea?
The wolves barked.
I squeaked and threw my arms around Ralph's neck. My purse smacked him on the back and he grunted.
"I'll take care of her," Ralph said. "If she doesn't kill me first."
They barked again.
"Yes, I'll call Patrick."
Who was Patrick? And why did he need to be called? I ventured another look down. The wolves stared at me, their teeth still showing in that we-will-devour-you-with-hot-sauce way, and then took off. I looked at Ralph, stunned that he had somehow communicated with the animals. His blue eyes glittered with humor and with concern and . . . ooooooh, what was that ? Interest? Of the sexual kind? My heart skipped a beat.
"What just happened here?"
He shrugged. "I gave it a whirl."
"Nice." Now that the wolves were gone, I felt a scooch more courageous. As a bonus, my heart decided to stay put and resume its normal beat.
"What are you doing here?" He sounded curious, which was far better than accusatory.
"My car broke down." The lie rolled off my tongue easily, even though my heart stuttered. I stared at him, trying not to look away. I hated telling fibs, but PRIS wasn't always welcomed with open arms. Some people thought we were a joke, and others a threat.
"You're a liar," he accused softly.
I couldn't stop my flinch. I averted my gaze, which probably just confirmed for him that he was right.
"What are you doing here, Libby Monroe?"
His voice did the sex-you-up thing again, and I found myself gazing deeply into his gorgeous blue eyes. What was with the Dracula tone and the come-hither glance?
"Tell me your purpose for coming to Broken Heart."
I couldn't look away from him. I swear there was a flare of red in his eyes. Fear flamed for an instant. No, no. My imagination had gotten the better of me.
"Not that I'm weirded out by it or anything, but why are you channeling Bela Lugosi?"
He looked surprised, then worried, and then uncertain. His confusion afforded me the opportunity to ask a question of my own.
"Who are the flowers for, Ralph?"
Oh, hell. Had I really just asked that? I felt as shocked as he looked. Hadn't I meant to quiz him about Bigfoot sightings? Maybe even cop to my real reason for snooping around Broken Heart?
Ralph dropped my legs, which thunked to the ground. Pain shimmied up my calves. As soon as my footing was secure, he let the rest of me go. My heavy purse nearly tipped me over. I righted myself, heaving the bag over my shoulder.
"Forgive me," I said, feeling guilty. "I shouldn't have asked."
"You're right. You shouldn't have spied on me, either."
"Yeah. That, too."
His lips thinned. Then, as if he was compelled to tell me, he said quietly, "Therese was my wife. She died three years ago."
"I'm sorry," I said, meaning it. I didn't say anything else because no words could really comfort the grief-stricken. When I was thirteen, my uncle Archie died during an investigation. An explosion killed him instantly. He wasn't really my uncle, just a key member of the PRIS team. But I'd known him my whole life and I missed him every day.
"C'mon, let's go." He sounded weary and resigned. Ralph pointed to a silver Honda, which was parked on the narrow road that cut through the cemetery. "Get in the car."
"No way." I unzipped my purse and felt around for my can of pepper spray. Vaguely, I recalled a tenet from my self-defense class: If someone tries to kidnap you, fight. Never go with them to a second location. The can rolled under my fingertips and I yanked it out, pointing the nozzle at his face. "Back off!"
"Two minutes ago, you begged me to save you." He studied the can. "Now you're threatening me with hair spray. And Aqua Net, no less. Does this look like the 1980s to you?"
"Shut up. It was on sale." I looked at the trial-sized can and grimaced. "Aqua Net stings, buddy. And it'll glue your eyes shut."
Ralph sighed.
"You know, just because - " I stopped, peering at the copse of trees a few yards away. A strange man rounded a tree and shuffled toward us. He dragged one leg, his arms were crooked oddly, and his clothes were disheveled.
"Who is that?" I asked.
Ralph turned, took one look at the weirdo, then grabbed my arm and hustled me toward his car. I looked over my shoulder. The man hit a pocket of moonlight. His skin was flaking and gray, and his hair patchy. Worse, two sunken holes were where his eyes should've been. I shrieked. Yanking my arm out of Ralph's grasp, I sprinted toward the car. I scrambled to the passenger side, flinging open the door. We both got inside and locked our doors. I watched the man move relentlessly, if slowly, toward the Honda.
"What is that thing?" I asked, my voice shaking.
"Zombie." Ralph started the car and put it in gear. I dropped my purse on the floor and clutched my hair spray can. I felt cold and it wasn't because of the weather. My whole body trembled. Thwump!
Something heavy landed on the roof. I looked up and saw indentations. What could crush metal that easily?
Ralph slammed his foot on the gas. The car shot forward, but our rooftop companion was not tossed off. Whatever-it-was leapt onto the hood and faced us. The man crouched down, his fingers hooked into the gap between the windshield and the hood. Sickly pale. Ragged clothes. Bloodred eyes.
"Okay. Who is that ?" I asked, my voice rising in panic.
"Vampire," said Ralph.
Right. Vampire. Ooookay.
I almost preferred the zombie.
The road curved to the right, but Ralph missed the turn. The Honda darted across the grass and spun through a row of graves before he managed to get back on the road.
"Why don't you hit the brakes? He'll go flying!"
The man punched the windshield, shattering the glass. He ripped the whole window out and flung it away. Shards scattered across the dash, into the floor, and on my lap.
Ralph slammed the brakes hard.
The car died.
Worse, our nemesis did not go flying. Jeez! Was he superglued to the hood?
His insane gaze ravenous, the vampire (no, really?) reached for me like I was a juicy steak. His grin revealed blackened teeth and sharp fangs. I stared at his mouth, horrified.
"Libby!"
Ralph's shocked cry shook me out of my numbness. I aimed the Aqua Net and sprayed the dude. He yelled and clawed at his eyes.
I dug around in my purse until I found the object I wanted.
I held up the candle lighter, clicked on the flame, and sprayed the Aqua Net. Flames shot forward and encompassed the man's grimy hands, which were still pressed against his face. His greasy hair was instantly flambeed.
He fell off the car and rolled around on the ground.
Ralph kept trying to start the car, but the engine refused to turn over. The vampire was still yowling and cursing. Ew. He smelled like burning mold.
I heard a long, low moan and looked over my shoulder. Through the back window, I saw the zombie shuffling toward us.
Hysteria burst through me. What was going on in this town? Killer wolves, zombies, and vampires. . . . Jeez!
Ralph shoved his door open. He looked at me over his shoulder. "What are you waiting for?" he yelled.
"Run!"