That’d mean a police investigation, which would delay construction, which would mean Tom would get to spend more time living on Key West and finding more women to sleep with and stick it to Missy. So he started brushing aside more and more dirt, only to discover a lot of bones.
“Wow,” Teresa said. “This is amazing. ”
“Yeah.” Tom saw the look of rapture on Teresa’s face and wondered if he was going to miss out on getting laid because she suddenly went nuts over a pile of bones.
The more the two of them dug—and Tom had to admit to being impressed, as Teresa had a nice manicure, which she was seriously damaging by helping him unearth the bones—the more bones 116 SUPERNATURAL
they found. A lot of duplicates, too—he saw several hands, a few skulls, and a lot of other bones that he didn’t know what they were.
“Maybe it’s an Indian burial ground!” Teresa said with a gasp.
God, I hope not. That would shut the site down. If some Seminoles or whatever were buried here, then the tribes would get into it, and it’d be a huge mess. Probably delay construction for years.
“What’s that noise?” Teresa asked.
Tom hadn’t heard anything, but once she asked the question, he noticed a low hum. “I dunno.”
Then, suddenly, he felt tired. Like all the energy had drained from his limbs. It was the way he felt after a day of double overtime, only a thousand times worse. Jesus, I just want to sleep. He could barely keep his eyes open, and he tried to look at Teresa, who also looked drowsy. What the hell’s going on?
Teresa started glowing, then her cat eyes got really wide, and her mouth opened, and her skin—
Her skin was getting all wrinkly! What the—?
Glancing down at his own hands, he saw that they had become withered and weak and sagging on the bone. This isn’t possible!
Teresa was screaming now, her cheeks having grown sallow, her face dried out and plastered to her skull. Under the tank top, he could make out Bone
Key
117
her clavicle and ribs, and her boobs were sagging down . . .
Tom tried to scream, but he couldn’t muster the energy. He was just so tired—he couldn’t lift his arms . . .
The last thing he heard was a phrase in a language he’d never heard before, but somehow he knew that the words meant: “At last!”
TEN
“Anyone ever told you that you got the most amaz- ing blue eyes?”
The truthful answer to that question was “no,”
since Dean didn’t have blue eyes, and wasn’t entirely sure how anyone could think he did have blue eyes—but when the person asking was as hot as this girl was, Dean just gave her a big smile, and said, “Why thank you!”
Besides, he could shout that more easily than he could shout an explanation that his eyes were actually hazel. He was sitting at the bar in Captain Tony’s Saloon, his ears grooving on the house band that was doing classic rock covers at a very loud volume, and his eyes were taking in the beauty of the girl who’d just complimented him. Once it got late enough, he and Sam would go back to Eaton Street and check out the tour company where those two people were killed. Sam had Bone
Key
119
done his laptop mojo thing back at the Naylor House while Dean fixed the EMF reader, and learned that the two who were killed had their heads bashed in, but there was no evidence of who killed them on either body—except for a thread from one of the dolls that was kept in the turret. According to Nicki and Bodge, the legend in that house was that the doll was possessed by a spirit. If that spirit had been supercharged by whatever zapped Naylor and Hemingway, it could well have been responsible. Especially since the threads from the doll were found on both corpses, but only one of them—the woman—was in the turret with the thing. The guy was killed downstairs, nowhere near the doll.
But that was for later. For now, Dean had dragged Sam—kicking and screaming—to an open-air place around the corner from Sloppy
“Wow,” Teresa said. “This is amazing. ”
“Yeah.” Tom saw the look of rapture on Teresa’s face and wondered if he was going to miss out on getting laid because she suddenly went nuts over a pile of bones.
The more the two of them dug—and Tom had to admit to being impressed, as Teresa had a nice manicure, which she was seriously damaging by helping him unearth the bones—the more bones 116 SUPERNATURAL
they found. A lot of duplicates, too—he saw several hands, a few skulls, and a lot of other bones that he didn’t know what they were.
“Maybe it’s an Indian burial ground!” Teresa said with a gasp.
God, I hope not. That would shut the site down. If some Seminoles or whatever were buried here, then the tribes would get into it, and it’d be a huge mess. Probably delay construction for years.
“What’s that noise?” Teresa asked.
Tom hadn’t heard anything, but once she asked the question, he noticed a low hum. “I dunno.”
Then, suddenly, he felt tired. Like all the energy had drained from his limbs. It was the way he felt after a day of double overtime, only a thousand times worse. Jesus, I just want to sleep. He could barely keep his eyes open, and he tried to look at Teresa, who also looked drowsy. What the hell’s going on?
Teresa started glowing, then her cat eyes got really wide, and her mouth opened, and her skin—
Her skin was getting all wrinkly! What the—?
Glancing down at his own hands, he saw that they had become withered and weak and sagging on the bone. This isn’t possible!
Teresa was screaming now, her cheeks having grown sallow, her face dried out and plastered to her skull. Under the tank top, he could make out Bone
Key
117
her clavicle and ribs, and her boobs were sagging down . . .
Tom tried to scream, but he couldn’t muster the energy. He was just so tired—he couldn’t lift his arms . . .
The last thing he heard was a phrase in a language he’d never heard before, but somehow he knew that the words meant: “At last!”
TEN
“Anyone ever told you that you got the most amaz- ing blue eyes?”
The truthful answer to that question was “no,”
since Dean didn’t have blue eyes, and wasn’t entirely sure how anyone could think he did have blue eyes—but when the person asking was as hot as this girl was, Dean just gave her a big smile, and said, “Why thank you!”
Besides, he could shout that more easily than he could shout an explanation that his eyes were actually hazel. He was sitting at the bar in Captain Tony’s Saloon, his ears grooving on the house band that was doing classic rock covers at a very loud volume, and his eyes were taking in the beauty of the girl who’d just complimented him. Once it got late enough, he and Sam would go back to Eaton Street and check out the tour company where those two people were killed. Sam had Bone
Key
119
done his laptop mojo thing back at the Naylor House while Dean fixed the EMF reader, and learned that the two who were killed had their heads bashed in, but there was no evidence of who killed them on either body—except for a thread from one of the dolls that was kept in the turret. According to Nicki and Bodge, the legend in that house was that the doll was possessed by a spirit. If that spirit had been supercharged by whatever zapped Naylor and Hemingway, it could well have been responsible. Especially since the threads from the doll were found on both corpses, but only one of them—the woman—was in the turret with the thing. The guy was killed downstairs, nowhere near the doll.
But that was for later. For now, Dean had dragged Sam—kicking and screaming—to an open-air place around the corner from Sloppy
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