Dust to Dust by Heather Graham Read Free Book Online Page B

broken glass on the sidewalk, and a couple of small trees were down.
    He paused one last time to help a man drag a palm tree off his car, then moved on. As soon as he was inside, he turned on the large Coleman lantern the neighbor had suggested he should go out to buy. The guy had been right, and Scott mouthed a silent thank-you.
    The pale glow from the lantern displayed his new living quarters in a surreal light. Simple, sparse. He could probably use a few throw pillows or something, he thought, as he looked around the living room. But the place was gaining some character. He’d done some posters for rock bands over the years, and he had several up on the walls. The sofa was an old chesterfield he’d found on eBay, and the throw rug on the hardwood living room floor was a Navaho design. His workstation was an old oak bank desk with tiered files in a lighter wood. The room was finished out with a rocker, TV, end tables and a few photographs—himself and his folks, more family, his friends. For some reason, he’d blown up a picture of himself, Zach and Emory, taken earlier on the night when they’d gone to the rescue of the couple being attacked in the alley, the night that had changed his life. The kitchen, which opened onto a small den, was pretty much bare. On the counter, he had a coffeepot and a can opener. The range—which so far he hadn’t even used—had come with a microwave, which had come in handy. He couldn’t be bothered cooking, because he spent a lot of his time—when not getting the new business going, because superhuman strength had not come with a superhuman income—staring at the computer and trying to ascertain just what had happened to him. And not only what, but why?
    He strode through to the kitchen, grabbed a still-cold beer from the fridge and returned to the chesterfield to sit. The situation that had plagued the back of his mind since he’d started his long walk home returned to haunt him.
    What the hell had really happened out there tonight?
    Who was she, and more importantly, what was she?
    She was tall, just a few inches shorter than his own height, but slender and angelic in comparison to his own dark appearance. She was a stunning woman who would have looked great strutting a catwalk, modeling the latest fashions. Her hair was rich and lustrous, but pale. Her eyes were light blue, he was pretty certain—but emphasized by strikingly honey-toned brows andlashes. Her bone structure was delicate, but she hadn’t betrayed a blink of fear as she faced down a gang of street thugs, completely confident that she could win.
    Had she also touched a dying man’s hand in an alley and been told that she was Capricorn?
    He would probably never know.
    He returned to his ongoing examination of his own powers. He was fast, and he was strong. Once he had literally pulled his door off its hinges, an expensive annoyance, but in the end a—good thing. It had taught him that he had to be careful. But, he had to admit, despite his old friends looking at him a bit strangely now, he had found a certain satisfaction with what had occurred, and he’d taken advantage of it. He’d always gone to the gym now and then, and he’d loved playing football and tennis. But since that night, he’d taken up yoga, karate and kickboxing, trying to learn to harness his mind, agility and strength.
    Oh, yeah, he was fast. But the platinum-blond beauty had disappeared so quickly that she might have flown away, even disappeared into thin air.
    He stretched his legs out on the coffee table and stared at the laptop on the desk, realizing that it still had battery power. He rose slowly, walked over and sat down, then pulled up the site he’d been looking at before he’d gone out. The words swam before him for a moment. Since that night in the alley, he’d been studying astrology, hoping it would take him somewhere, help him to understand Capricorn—and