Page 9 of Forever Found

David nodded. “Fix it up, and I’ll take it.”

“Excellent. I knew you were a fit.”

Val gave a throaty chuckle. “You have a gift of matching a machine and owner. So, where’s mine?”

Diego sighed. “Patience, my friend. I haven’t found that perfect bike for you yet.”

The alarm on Val’s phone dinged. He glanced at the message. “I have to pick up Twyla. See you tonight.”

“Meet you at the bonfire?” David asked.

“Yeah.” Val clapped a hand over his shoulder as he passed, heading for the door.

David climbed off the bike. “I better head out, too.” He wished everything were this easy, including dealing with a sassy photographer. But she sure was beautiful with a certain allure about her. “Thanks, man. I look forward to spring and riding the roads.”

* * *

Justin parked his truck beside the many others filling the seemingly vacant lot off Omen Avenue. Lyndsey scanned the area, then got out of the vehicle. As she shut the door behind her, she swung her camera over her shoulder. The clock tower across the street struck seven. The musical, pleasant sound contrasted with the gothic buildings and shadowed cover of the night.

She wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck. The temperature had dropped considerably, and she could see her breath with every exhale.

They walked to a grouping of tents. It was a carnival-like atmosphere with food booths selling sausages on sticks, hot cider, and funnel cakes. Wow, it had been eons since she’d indulged in one of those. She bought one. The guy handed it to her straight from the kettle, piping hot. The first bite was sugary bliss. She offered some to Justin, but he shook his head.

She looked around as she ate. People had set up their own games. In the center of the area, there was an enormous pile of wood items. Several men split logs, then tossed them on the stack. David caught her eye. Her heart did a silly skip-patter, watching as his biceps bulged when he raised and lowered the ax, easily parting the wood beneath his powerful assault. After building the mound higher, he joined another well-built man who offered him a torch. The two men swung the torches over their heads, seeming to be doing a ceremonial lighting. David was on the right. The pair interacted, posturing some ritualistic interchanges she didn’t understand but enjoyed watching. She itched to pull out her camera to snap a few pictures, but she resisted. David moved with the masculine yet lethal grace of a warrior. Judging from the whoops and cheers from the crowd, the other man’s name appeared to be Val.

Finally, the two men touched the ends of their torches together, then tipped them toward the dry wood and released them. The stack must have been doused with some sort of accelerant because the pile burst into flames. David and Val jumped away from the blaze with hearty shouts of success.

Justin explained the tradition. “David and Val fight against evil. Then the bonfire symbolizes the release of wishes, dreams, and fears that are passed into the fire, calling upon positive energy.”

The fire quickly grew into a raging inferno.

The heat of it shocked her body, and she instinctively stepped backward. Raising her camera, she took shots of the cheering crowd. A group of four women danced. One she recognized from her cousin’s house earlier today, Solis. There was also an older woman with gray-and-black hair who had a raven on her shoulder. Val scooped the forth beautiful woman with waist-length dark hair into his arms before twirling her around. She pulled his head down to kiss him.

In a flash, her camera flew from her hands.

She gasped. “What th—”

She spotted her camera in David’s hand. He’d snatched it from her, the overpowering beast.

“Hey!” She plunked her hands on her hips. “Didn’t your mother teach you to use your words?”

He cocked his head.

“Guess not,” she grumbled. Then, more loudly, she said, “You could haveaskedme to stop taking pictures if that was what you wanted.”

“I did. Besides, action is faster.”

“No. You asked me not to take pictures ofyour property. We are inpublic. You can still ask me to stop, but I don’t have to agree.” She glared. “This is the second time you’ve interfered with my shots. What is it with you?”

“We don’t allow paparazzi in Terror.”

“I’m not a paparazzo. I’m aphotographer.”

Justin gave her a pleading look, leaning over to whisper in her ear. “Privacy, remember?”

She sighed. “Okay, I’m putting it away.” She slipped the lens cap on her camera. Her cousin gave her a smile of thanks, and she forced one back.

“Thank you,” David said, but it wasn’t convincing.