Grave Intentions by Lori Sjoberg Page A

murmured. He licked his lips as he reached for the door handle. “If we get out of the car right now, we—”
    “No, we can’t,” David interrupted. In case his apprentice got any bright ideas, he hit the auto locks. “These two have an appointment with Fate.”
    “Can’t they reschedule? It doesn’t have to end like this.”
    “Yes, it does.” David gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. “Remember the rules, Newbie. Always collect your appointed souls. Do not alert humans to our presence. Do not question Fate. And for the love of God, do not alter destiny. Follow the rules and you’ll save yourself a shitload of trouble.”
    Outside, the couple fought bitterly, their voices rising with each exchange of insults and accusations. Angry words turned to shouts, and shouts turned to shoves. The brunette told Donald she didn’t love him and wanted a divorce. Donald called her a whore and a gold digger. She slapped him hard across the face. Caught in a current of fury and despair, Donald’s arms shot out, his hands wrapping around his wife’s throat. She let out a startled cry, her fingers clawing at Donald in a desperate attempt to break his hold.
    David shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the memory of his encounter with Samuel still fresh in his mind. He pressed a hand against his throat, remembering what it felt like to have the air stripped from his own lungs. The shock. The pain. The anger that came with being helpless at the hands of another. For the first time in over a decade, he felt a sharp stab of compassion toward one of his clients. As soon as he recognized the sensation, he tamped it down mercilessly.
    Meanwhile, back at the house, the brunette lay lifeless on the front porch, her husband crouched beside her. As the adrenaline rush subsided, shock set in when Donald realized what he had done. With a look of panic, he gave her a hard shake and then checked her wrist for a pulse. Finding none, he bent over his dead wife and pressed a tender kiss against her lips. Then he stood and walked inside the house, sobbing, leaving the door open behind him.
    “Wait for it,” David murmured, the buzz of new death pulsing through his veins like a hot bolt of lightning.
    Inside the house, a single gunshot rang out, and then all was quiet again in the cozy little neighborhood where nothing bad ever happened. At least that’s what they’d probably say on the evening news.
    David hit the button to unlock the doors. He kept his face purposefully blank, determined to show no trace of sympathy for two lives lost, two lives wasted. “Come on. Let’s roll.”
     
    “I was right.”
    “You guessed right.”
    “No. I knew. I told you Dolores was going to die.” Pearl braced her hands on her hips and tipped up her chin. “Admit it.”
    Sarah pressed her fingers against her throbbing temples. She’d made the trek to Auburn Green Retirement Community as soon as her shift ended. Once there, she’d found Grandma Pearl holding court in the main social room, reading palms and boasting of her accurate prediction of Dolores’s untimely demise. “You live in a retirement community. People die here all the time. It was a fairly safe bet.”
    “But I knew the exact person and the exact date.”
    “It was probably a case of self-fulfilling prophecy,” Sarah reasoned. “The poor woman was so frightened after hearing your prediction, she gave herself a heart attack.”
    “Say what you want. I was right.” Pearl eyed her granddaughter contemplatively. “I had another vision of you last night.”
    Oh, goody. Just what she needed, more mumbo-jumbo from the Great Beyond. “Really?” she said, preparing herself for the king-sized load of malarkey coming her way. “And what did you see this time?”
    Pearl’s eyes narrowed as she regarded her granddaughter. “I saw you with a man. The one I told you about the last time you came by.” Her features softened, her lips curving into a quirky smile.