Taint (Formerly Claimed) Dark Midnight 1

Chapter 19

            Only Eliot’s firm grip on her shoulder kept her from ramming into a tree. 

            “You’re scared,” he said before she could catch her breath.  He made it seem like an accusation.  Something shameful. 

Scared.  

            Panting, she stumbled to regain her balance.  Her gaze darted to those pale fingers, still gripping her forearm firmly through her coat, before roving up those piercing eyes focused intently up ahead. 

            “I’m not,” she lied, even as her pulse throbbed in the back of her throat.  “I just think this is…”

            She dragged her gaze away from him to stare out through the trees at the slowly forming crime scene.

            “Creepy,” she declared finally, practically on a whisper. 

Watching a news report on a dusty television would have been so much more preferable to this…

Some things just weren’t meant to be viewed in all their grisly glory. 

            “Creepy,” Eliot repeated in a tone that made her head jerk around in his direction.

            There it was again.  That subtle hint of amusement that colored his words though, when she looked at him, his face was as guarded as stone.

Still...

            She couldn’t escape the feeling that he was gloating—knowing exactly how she felt, but reveling in the fact that she was afraid to show it.

            Silly little girl, she could picture him thinking.  I know exactly what you’re thinking…

            She tried to put on a brave front.  With a dry swallow, she forced herself to stare at the lines of yellow police tape being strung up between the trees without flinching. 

            At least…she didn’t think he could see her flinch beneath her thick coat. 

            “Do you want to know what they’re saying?”  He asked after a moment.  His voice was soft. 

           From here, the officer’s words reached them in only whispers and murmurs.  She could barely make out a whole word here and there, but they were more than enough to guess the morbid tone of the conversation. 

         Things like splatter. 

Lividity. 

Canvas.  

She shook her head. 

            Eliot ignored her.  “There’s saying that it must have happened last night—during the thick of the storm,” he said. 

Miriam flinched.

“And,” he added purposely, “they think that this girl was out alone.”

            “Stop it…”

            Her voice was barely a whisper—he had no trouble at all cutting over it.

            “She was out alone,” he stressed the word.  “And she paid the consequences.”

            “Stop!”

            Violently Miriam turned away, bracing herself against the bark of the nearest tree.

            If he wanted to scare her…