Marking off my Cemetery square for the CS Spooky Bingo
Part One
I dare you to sit alone in the Storybrooke Cemetery until after midnight.
Emma Swan hated her friends.
Why couldn't they have dared her to something more typical of a college student on Halloween? Why not dare her to slam a beer, or kiss one of the random guys that had crashed the party, or go streaking down the quad?
Because they obviously hated her as much as she hated them.
Okay. Maybe hate was too strong a word, but still… she had unfriendly feelings toward them at the moment.
A curse slipped from her lips as she tripped over one of the flat gravestones that littered the area of the cemetery closest to the public park. She'd decided it would be best to not park her bright yellow bug at the actual entrance of the cemetery, seeing as visiting interred loved ones after dark wasn't exactly permitted.
After traipsing through the treeline that separated the public park from the cemetery with nothing more than an old flashlight and its quickly dying batteries - leave your phone in your car. You have to be completely alone - it was no wonder she'd nearly lost her footing. There was practically no moon and the faint solar powered grave lights adorning a few of the headstones did little to illuminate more than the names and dates of those long passed.
Trudging a bit further into the center of the cemetery, Emma found a tall headstone to rest against. She spread out the blanket she'd brought with her, sat down, leaned back, and crossed her arms over her chest.
"This is stupid," she muttered, refusing to let the intrusive, ridiculous, superstitious, completely irrational thoughts currently parading through her mind make a home there.
There was nothing to be creeped out about. There was nothing scary or unnatural about a graveyard. All she had to do was sit here for…
A frustrated sigh huffed from her chest. Without her phone, how was she supposed to know when midnight was?
There was nothing for it. She'd have to go back and get her phone so she could keep tabs on the time. There was no way she was staying out here a second longer than she had to, and not because she was scared, or creeped out, or had chill bumps already forming on her arms. Nope.
Leaving her blanket behind, Emma set off back towards her car. She'd only managed to walk a few steps when the flashlight batteries finally gave up the ghost… so to speak, plunging her into darkness.
Slapping her palm against the infernal thing in the hopes of reviving it, Emma let out another expletive.
"The fuck am I gonna do now?"
"Good question," a voice said from behind her.
Emma screamed and spun around. The face of a strange man, being illuminated by his own flashlight shining up from beneath his chin, had her stumbling backward. If not for his quick actions, she would have tumbled over the back of a headstone and probably landed on her head. Instead, she found herself wrapped in his embrace, having pulled her back onto her feet in just the nick of time.
"Whoa there, lass," he said, adjusting her in his arms to ensure she was steady. "You don't want to go joining these poor souls before it's your time."
Attempting to wriggle out of his hold, Emma straightened her spine and lifted her chin. "Let go of me."
He did as he was told, staying close for a moment to make certain she was sure on her feet before stepping over to where she had left her blanket.
Gathering it from the ground, he held it out to her. "Best not linger here, love. The cemetery is no place for the living after dark."
Taking the blanket from him, Emma's eyes narrowed at the man - the handsome, heart-flutter inducing, accented lilt that could make her toes curl, while giving off an air of danger that just made him an impossibly more appealing type of man. Dismissing the erratic beat of her heart as something simply caused by the fright he'd given her and not the lop-sided smile and smoldering eyes currently fixed her way, Emma hugged the blanket against her chest and demanded to know, "What are you doing here then?"
"I work here," he informed her with all the confidence and authority of a practiced liar.
Because it was a lie. Or half-truth at the very least. Emma could always tell.
Letting out a quiet hum that expressed her doubt, she clocked the way he pawed at a patch of skin behind his ear before glancing around them as though he expected someone else to make an appearance.
Was there someone else in the cemetery with them?
"Look, love," he began, his tone a bit tighter and more urgent. "I really must insist that you leave here at once. For your own good. Trust me."
"Trust you?" Emma scoffed. "I don't even know you."
"All you need to know is that if you stay here you're putting yourself in danger." Before she could pull away the man grabbed one of her hands. "Here," he said, placing his flashlight in her palm. "Take this and get back to your vehicle."
"But you still haven't told me what you're…"
Her words fell away, choked out by shock and a fresh swell of fear. When she'd cast the beam of the flashlight after the man who was quickly rushing away, she caught sight of a mound of freshly dug earth on the other side of the cemetery. A shovel was sticking out from the pile and she could barely make out the dark chasm of the grave that had been newly exposed.
Was he some sort of grave robber?
Emma turned on her heel and made a beeline for the trees. Her only thought was to call the police, but before she reached the boundary of the cemetery a cold gust stole her breath away. A shrill shriek forced a ripple of terror to tremble down her spine and a silent petrified scream tried to force itself from her lungs when a ghostly figure of a woman manifested right in front of her.
"Get down!" the man shouted and Emma turned in time to see him brandish a shotgun.
Dropping to the ground, a blast went off overhead and she felt small, hard pellets rain down on her as another shriek pierced her ears.
"Are you alright, love?"
The man hauled her to her feet, and unlike the last time it was Emma who now clung to him, her hands holding fast to his upper arms as she tried to reconcile what had just happened.
"W-What was that?"
"That," he said softly, his gaze filled with obvious remorse as he confirmed her worst nightmare. "Was a ghost."
"A g-ghost?" Emma shook her head. "You can't be serious."
"I am deadly serious," he said, brushing the substance he'd fired from his shotgun off her head and shoulders.
"A ghost," Emma repeated, her mind still grasping for reality as her grip remained tight around his bicep. "Who… whose ghost? How did you…? Is she…?"
"Her name was Cruella," he told her. "She died in the 1920s and has been haunting the park since her family home, which used to reside there, was torn down in the early 80s. Haven't you heard the stories?"
"About de Vil Park?"
The man nodded as Emma searched her memory for the tales people often told about the public park. It had been donated by the family whose estate had once been the central landmark of affluence until a murderous scandal had tarnished the de Vil name. The mansion had fallen into disrepair and was ultimately condemned and bulldozed, the land left to the city for public use and made into a park.
Emma had heard stories about people refusing to walk their dogs there, something about the trails making the animals skittish or aggressive. There had been a public health scare when she was in middle school. One fall several kids had been bitten by varying animals - squirrels, a raccoon, and maybe a possum? - and one of them contracted rabies. Most people avoided feeding the animals in the park, fearing attacks, and although after dark activities were allowed, few went there after sundown.
"Is she the reason that animals act strangely there?"
"Aye," the man said, his eyes casting about and the muscle at his jaw pulsing. "More recently though, she's taken to tormenting a local woman who unknowingly purchased one of Cruella's fur coats from an antique store."
"And you're here to…"
His eyes cut back to hers, locking on with an intensity that had the same breath stealing effect as the ghost - for different reasons obviously - and causing her to nearly miss the vow he uttered in a low, gruff timbre.
"To put a stop to the bitch. For good."
"How?"
His reply was cut off by another screech and drop in temperature.
"Bloody hell! Get behind me, love."
Emma did not hesitate, clinging to his back as the apparition appeared. With practiced skill, he opened the shotgun chamber, loaded two shells, snapped it shut, aimed, and fired a spray of something that made the ghost vanish once more.
"What was that?" Emma asked, following at the man's heels, his destination becoming clear as they approached the freshly unearthed grave.
"Rock salt," he answered. "It won't destroy a spirit, but it does act as a deterrent, forcing them to dissipate briefly."
"What does destroy a spirit? How does one kill something that's already dead?"
"You have to salt and burn the bones of the person," he said matter-of-factly, reaching into a duffel bag and pulling out a canister of salt. "And any earthly object the spirit might be tied to."
Jutting his chin down towards the grave, the man turned her attention to the ghastly scene six feet below. The lid of her coffin had been pried open, the decaying, partially skeletal remains of Cruella de Vil exposed to the elements for the first time in a hundred years. She'd been laid out in a black gown and once luxurious fur, her fingers and neck draped in jewels, and her hair, still attached to patches of skin affixed to her skull in contrasts of black and white, had been fashioned in a split bob which had been popular in her day. At her feet rested a well kept, white fur coat with black spots, and Emma could only surmise that it was the very coat he'd mentioned moments ago.
A shower of salt crystals rained down on the corpse and coat, followed by a flood of lighter fluid. Emma's nose wrinkled at the fumes wafting up from the grave, and she finally tore her eyes away from the body when he warned her to step back.
She complied while watching him dig a lighter from his pocket and held her breath when he flipped open the cap and set his thumb against the flint wheel. Another angry gust swirled around them and Emma was too late to call out a warning when the ghost of Cruella appeared once more.
"Look out!" she screamed, but the spectre already had the man by the throat. Hoisting him off his feet, she slammed him against a nearby crypt, his face turning purple from the crushing force against his windpipe. His hands desperately clawed at fingers he could not touch and his eyes began to roll back in his head. With great effort he managed to croak out, "Burn her!"
Emma scrambled about on her knees in the grass at the foot of the grave, knowing he'd dropped the lighter there when the ghost attacked. With shaking hands she flipped open the cap and swiped at the flint wheel futilely a few times before a flame finally sparked. Dropping the lit lighter into the grave set off a cacophony of screeches, shrieks, screams, and wails. Emma covered her ears and balled herself up as a means of protection. Wind whipped around her, the chill of the air and the cries of the ghost causing her to shake violently.
An eerie silence fell over the cemetery, broken only by the sound of the flickering flames consuming Cruella's corpse and a soft, aching moan groaning from the man as he picked himself up off the ground.
"Are you okay?" she asked, uncoiling herself yet unable to stand just yet, not trusting her legs to hold her.
"Aye," he croaked, lumbering towards her. "Thanks to you, love." Rubbing his neck, he looked down at her with awe. "You were bloody brilliant. Amazing."
She let him help her up, the two of them staring into the other's eyes, their chests heaving in tandem.
"So, um," Emma began, pausing to wet her lips and noting how his gaze fell to follow the action. "What now? Is she… gone?"
"She is," he assured her. "And we should probably vacate as well."
"Right," she said, shaking herself from the attraction she should absolutely not be feeling for the ghost hunting, grave digging, creeps about in cemeteries at night, dark and mysterious man.
He also broke away, scratching that patch of skin behind his ear once more before telling her he needed to fill in the grave.
Unsure as to whether she ought to stay until he was finished or leave now, a thought suddenly occurred to her, prompting her to ask, "Um… you wouldn't happen to know what time it is, would you?"
He paused and pulled his phone from his back pocket to check, then told her, "11:53. Why?"
"It seems stupid now, but, um… I'm supposed to stay until midnight."
"Midnight? Why midnight?"
Embarrassment prickled over Emma's skin as she admitted, "I was dared to during a game of Truth or Dare with friends."
The man laughed and began filling the hole once more. "Truth or Dare, huh? I couldn't tell you the last time I played Truth or Dare." Pausing again he pondered the thought for a moment then stated, "Actually… I'm not certain I've ever played it."
With a shrug he set to work again and Emma could not fight off the compulsion to explain herself and why she'd played the childish game in the first place.
"Yeah, well. It's my senior year of college. I graduate in May and it seemed like a fun thing to do. You know… before I have to seriously start my adult life and whatnot."
Shut up, Emma. You're rambling like an idiot!
The man made a sympathetic sound, another shovelful of dirt landing in the now shrinking hole, and admitted, "My adult life began the day I went on my first hunt. I was eleven."
"First hunt? You mean…"
"Ghosts?" he supplied, when she couldn't bring herself to finish the thought. "Aye. Although, they aren't the only supernatural entity we hunt."
"We? You mean there are others like you?"
"Fewer now than there used to be, but…"
His words fell away and his attention jumped towards the cemetery entrance.
"Fuck," he muttered, quickly wiping down the handle of the shovel. "Someone's called the police."
Emma spun towards the entrance and saw the red and blue strobes of police lights pulling into the parking lot.
"What do we do?" she whisper-yelled at the man who was stuffing his things into the duffle bag, the wiped down shovel cast aside atop the pile of dirt he hadn't managed to return to the grave.
"Where did you park?" he asked, zipping up the bag and taking the flashlight from her.
"At the park. Why?"
He grabbed her hand and rushed them towards the treeline. "That's where I'm parked as well," he informed her. "Less conspicuous that way. With any luck we can get to our vehicles and get out of here without being seen."
In their haste, Emma nearly forgot about her discarded blanket, but they managed to locate it before exiting the cemetery. They came out of the treeline near his car, a classic 1970s Chevelle, and he wasted no time stowing his duffel bag in the trunk and stripping off his jacket and outer shirt which were covered in dirt.
"I, uh…" Emma began, unsure of what to say, but it didn't matter. The presence of red and blue lights, preceding a cruiser that was about to turn into the park had her pivoting. "Come with me," she said, taking him by the hand and leading them back into the treeline.
"What are you doing?" the man demanded in a frantic voice. "We can't go back that way, they'll-"
Emma cut him off, her fingers pressing against his lips as she urged, "Help me spread out the blanket."
With confusion knitting his brows, he did as he was told then knelt down beside her on the now flattened blanket.
"Kiss me," she said, causing the man to balk.
"What?"
Knowing time was not on their side, Emma grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled his mouth to hers with enough force to topple them over. He grunted as they hit the ground, but didn't pull away when she slid her lips against his and threaded her fingers through the back of his hair. It didn't take but another quick beat for him to catch on to her plan, and when he did, he threw himself into the ruse with great enthusiasm.
Enthusiasm and passion and heat and… oh my.
His tongue pressed against the seam of her lips and his hips shifted, settling into the cradle of her thighs. Emma groaned and pulled him closer, the taste of him and need of air making her lightheaded. His fingers grazed a path along her ribcage, his thumb tracing the swell of her breast, awaiting a silent cue of consent before he cupped her in his hand and began to knead the needy flesh trapped beneath her bra.
With one hand still held fast in his dark, silken tresses, she raked the other down his back until it reached his jeans, pulling noises from him that made the heat in her belly and throb between her legs intensify. Slipping her hand into his back pocket, she gripped his ass and lifted her hips, grinding against the rigid length that hardened further as something akin to a growl rumbled in his chest.
An honest to God whimper quivered off her lips when he pulled away, but it was quickly replaced by a sharp wanton gasp at the feel of his hot, rough tongue outlining the shell of her ear.
"Gods, love," he murmured hoarsely, his teeth nibbling at her earlobe while he rocked his hips into hers. "Tell me your-"
"Who's there! What are you two doing out here?"
She and the man both froze at the sound of the policeman's voice, and Emma had to squint past the shine of flashlights to make out a second officer coming towards them from the opposite direction.
"You heard him," the second officer shouted. "What are you doing out here?"
"U-Um…" Emma stammered from beneath the man whose attention was set squarely on the first cop. "Truth or Dare?"
~/~
"Let me get this straight," the officer said, continuing to scrutinize their IDs. "You were at a Halloween party, playing Truth or Dare, and he got dared to come out here. Then a little bit later, you got dared to join him."
"That's what the lass said," the man replied in a derisive tone.
"And what is the lass' name?" the officer questioned with a smug expression.
"It's uh…" Furtively, the man cast his eyes to Emma's before sheepishly reaching up to scratch the back of his neck.
"You didn't get her name before you-"
"I would have gotten it before we parted," the man said in an attempt to defend himself and Emma was struck by the truth she heard in his statement.
"Did someone report our vehicles or something?" Emma asked, attempting to throw the officer off his questioning. "We told you why we're out here. Why are you?"
"Someone called in a disturbance," the officer replied. "You two didn't see or hear anything?"
"We were a bit preoccupied," the man quipped, tossing a smirk at Emma. "What sort of disturbance?"
"Someone dug up a grave and set fire to it. You two know anything about that?"
"Bloody hell!" the man exclaimed, his disgust and shock perfectly believable and authentic sounding.
Emma hoped hers did as well. "Seriously? Who would do something like that?"
"You didn't see anyone else out here?" the officer asked again, his focus intently set on trying to ascertain whether they were being truthful.
"No," they both emphatically insisted.
"Are you saying they did this recently?" Emma said, pressing into the man's side. "While we were out here?"
The man put his arm around her shoulders and held her close, rubbing a soothing hand up and down her arm while casting a nervous glance around them. "And you're certain they're gone?"
"We aren't certain of anything," the other officer said with a sigh, returning from the cemetery to inform them, "Crime unit just got here. You two are free to go."
Emma snapped her head towards the man who met her gaze. Before either of them could move, the interrogating officer said, "Hold on a minute."
Joining the other officer, the cop asked in a low tone, "Are you sure? Don't you think we ought to take them in for further questioning?"
"They're just a couple of horny college students, not grave desecrating whack jobs," the other officer countered. "You've got their info in case we need to follow up. For now, cut them loose."
Emma did not have to be told twice. As soon as the officer handed them back their identification they made a beeline for their vehicles.
"Do you know the diner around the corner from here?" the man whispered in her ear.
"Granny's? Yeah. It's a popular hangout. Why?"
"Meet me there," he said, opening her car door for her and letting her slide in behind the wheel before snapping it shut and heading towards his Chevelle.
His engine purred to life a moment later and Emma warred with whether or not to follow him. Chewing her lip, she watched his tail lights disappear and a buzzing sound pulled her attention to her phone.
Twenty-six texts and three missed calls.
Ruby: Remember. No phone!
Ruby: You better not have your phone
Belle: I hope you're okay.
Belle: And I hope you aren't too mad at us!
More of the same from Mary Margaret and August. A couple of texts from her brother, demanding she call the moment she's back at her car. A few more from Ruby with links to ghost story articles. A missed call from David at 12:01. Another at 12:07. The last from Mary Margaret at 12:21.
Emma made a quick group text and sent them all a message.
Back in my car. Safe and Sound. Is the party still going? Gonna run to Granny's for a hot chocolate then I'll come back if you guys are still partying.
With her mind made up, Emma set off towards Granny's and did her best to ignore the constant buzz of her phone during the short drive. When she walked through the door, the bell chiming overhead, her mystery man's head snapped up from the steaming mug he had wrapped in his hands and a wide smile bloomed across his face.
"I was beginning to think you weren't going to show," he said, reclining back in the booth and draping his arm along the back. "Thought you might have ghosted me."
His brows danced over his eyes, his smile turning mischievous and Emma couldn't help but roll her eyes while attempting to swallow back an amused response bubbling up from her chest. Stopping at the booth, she waved off his offer to take the seat opposite him, preferring to stand.
"I almost didn't," she admitted, tucking her hands into her pockets and scuffing the tile at her feet with her toe. "Would that have disappointed you?"
The man shrugged and shook his head. "Nope. 'Cause I would have just gone after you."
"Oh, really?" Emma said in a dubious tone. "And why's that?"
Leaning forward, he caught her with a sultry gaze and crooned, "Because… I know how you kiss." Resuming his previous posture, he added, "And I enjoy a challenge."
"That would be a challenge, all right," she replied in a taunting tone. "You don't even know my name."
"Your usual, Emma?" Granny questioned from the counter, pulling a grin and deep chuckle from the man.
"Emma, is it?" he cheeked. "Does my saviour have a last name?"
Rolling her eyes again, Emma answered, "Swan. Emma Swan, and I'm no saviour."
"I don't know about that," he countered. "You certainly saved my ass tonight. Twice, in fact."
"Yeah, well… you saved me first, so… we're even, I guess." Turning to the counter, she called out to Granny, "Can you make that hot chocolate to go?"
"To go?" the man questioned with evident disappointment.
"Yeah." Tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, she said, "My friends keep blowing up my phone and if I don't get back they're liable to call the cops and I wouldn't want them to blow our cover story, so I…"
"You can't stay." His eyes had dropped to the table, an expression of resignation set in his features.
"I was hoping," she began softly, earning her a hopeful glance from him. "If you're not busy tomorrow, I thought you might want to get lunch or something?"
He smiled up at her but it was bittersweet in its corners. "I would love nothing more. Truly. But I have another job to get to. It's a few hundred miles from here, so I have to get on the road soon."
"Oh. Right. Sure."
"However," he said, sliding his phone across the table towards her. "If you give me your number, I'll call you the next time I'm in the area." Sincerity poured from his forget-me-nots depths as he declared, "I would very much like to see you again, Swan."
Emma tried to smother a self-satisfied smile and picked up his phone from the table. "So you know my name and now you want my number, yet… I have no idea who you are."
"Fair point," he conceded on an amused breath. Standing from the booth, he pressed in close to where she stood and took her hand in his. "Killian Jones," he murmured, lifting her hand to his mouth and brushing a soft kiss to the backs of her knuckles. "At your service."
With her lip caught between her teeth, Emma pulled her hand from his and punched her number into his phone before handing it back to him.
"One hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon to-go," Granny announced from the counter, a taunting tone underpinning her words.
"Thanks, Granny," Emma replied, ignoring the woman's knowing expression as she took the cup and turned back towards the man, who she now knew to be Killian Jones.
"So…" she drew out in an effort to stall a bit longer. "Thank you for a most memorable evening." Killian chuckled at that and the sound absolutely did not make her heart stutter. "And um, good luck on your next job." Realization of what that next job might entail had her insides growing cold for a moment and she took his hand, squeezing it tightly, as she implored, "Please, be careful."
Killian threaded his fingers between hers, entwining their hands and assuring her, "You don't have to worry about me, love. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's surviving."
The truth in his words did not give her much comfort. How many times had it been tested in order to be proven true thus far? Emma wasn't sure she wanted to know.
Perhaps sensing her continued concern, he added, "I'll be careful, Swan. I promise."
Her back pocket began vibrating once more, a deluge of texts and calls from her friends, no doubt. The buzzing must have reached his ears.
"You should go, love. Don't keep your friends worrying about you."
"Right," she said, forcing herself to take a step away from him. Then another. Then another. "See you around, Jones."
"Count on it, Swan."
~/~
One Year Later…
"What do you mean, we released a ghost when we uncovered that skeleton in the wall?"
"Exactly what I said, Neal! We've got an angry spirit in the house and we need someone to help us get rid of it."
"Who the hell is gonna help us get rid of a ghost, Ems?"
With a long suffering sigh, Emma admitted, "I just might know a guy."