Ghost Hold (The PSS Chronicles, Book Two)

by Ripley Patton

  Grant and I both stood there stunned, staring at one another. What were the chances we would meet like this? That he would be the groupie Eva had hooked up with out of all the college guys in Indy? First I’d run into my dad’s painting, then my mom, then I’d had to urge Emma and her parents to flee to Indy, and now Grant was here. It was like my old life in Greenfield was stalking me, each new event a tightening noose of coincidence determined to snare me and pull me back as I struggled forward. Supposedly, the universe was expanding, but I was beginning to feel like it was closing in on me.

  “Olivia,” Grant blurted, coming out of his shock with brute force, and grabbing me by the arm. “What the hell are you doing here? Your mom is worried sick about you. Everyone in Greenfield is frantic about your disappearance. Does Emma know you’re here? Because I’m going to kill her if she does. She swore to me she had no idea where you were.”

  “No, she doesn’t know.” I glanced at Eva who looked very confused. “Let go of me, okay? Don’t make a scene.”

  “Don’t make a scene?” he asked, his voice rising. “You disappear without a trace, leave behind everyone you love, and you ask me not to make a scene? No, I’m getting my phone back right now and we’re calling your mom.” He pulled me by the arm and turned to run smack into Marcus.

  “Is there some kind of problem?” Marcus asked, flanked by Nose and Jason with Yale behind them. They all looked extremely imposing in their black robes.

  Standing across from each other, even clothed exactly the same, Grant and Marcus were as different as the sun and moon. Grant was taller and slimmer, a shock of his sandy blonde hair showing from under his hood, his blue eyes locked on Marcus’s brown ones. Marcus was shorter but he seemed more substantial, as if he were somehow bigger than his own body. But despite the differences, both of them were exuding testosterone like bulls at a bullfight.

  “No, there’s no problem,” Grant said, “In fact, the problem is solved if you get the fuck out of my way. This is my sister’s best friend, and she’s been missing for a month.”

  “Aha,” Marcus said, “then you must be Grant.”

  “Yes, I’m Grant. And who the hell are you?”

  “Stop it. Both of you,” I said, pulling out of Grant’s grip and stepping between them. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m right here, and I can speak for myself, thank you very much. Grant,” I turned to him, “this is Marcus. He’s my friend, and I left Greenfield with him of my own free will.” I don’t know why I called Marcus my friend. Probably because, for those still under the impression he was my brother, friend was a slightly easier adjustment to make than boyfriend. Besides, we’d only recently re-established that status. Or, maybe I just didn’t want to overwhelm Grant with too much information at once. I don’t know. “And if you want to call my mom when this is over tonight,” I went on, “and tell her you found me, then fine. But not now.”

  “Well said,” Renzo praised me, walking up to us. He and Dimitri had joined the fray. In fact, a crowd had gathered around us, the whole parking lot focused on our little drama, probably hoping for a fight. “The Marked never have to explain themselves at an Eidolon, but Fleshmen do.” He looked at Grant and then at Marcus. “And if your answers aren’t good enough, neither of you will be coming with us tonight.”

  Great. The last thing I needed was one more guy staking his claim to me.

  “Is this answer enough?” Marcus turned to Renzo and reached up, pulling down the front of his robe and unzipping his leather jacket underneath, a small triangle of his PSS shining out the top.

  Renzo stared at it for a moment, then glanced at me and back to Marcus. “You people keep a lot of secrets,” he said. “You could have told me you were marked hours ago.”

  “If you’d been through what we have,” Marcus said, leaving his jacket open and ignoring the murmurs of the crowd, “you wouldn’t go around telling just anyone. I wanted to be sure I could trust you first.”

  “And how do we know we can trust you?” Renzo countered. “Paranoia breeds mistrust, and you both reek of it,” he said, including Grant in that evaluation.

  “I thought you said the Marked never have to explain themselves at an Eidolon,” Marcus challenged him. “As for him,” he said, glancing dismissively at Grant. “He’s not with us. I have no idea why he’s here. All I know is he was manhandling Anne and trying to drag her away against her will.”

  “She’s not Anne,” Grant argued, growing red in the face. “She’s Olivia. She’s my sister’s best friend. And I wasn’t trying to take her. I was trying to get her back.”

  Renzo turned and looked at me, his blue eye drilling into me as if it could discern the truth. And maybe it could, because all the flirty interest from earlier in the evening was gone. He was all business now, and I was just an annoying glitch in his Eidolon.

  “My name is Olivia,” I admitted, “but recently I’ve been going by my middle name, Anne. And I am his sister’s best friend, but that doesn’t mean I want to go with him.”

  “Do you hear that?” Renzo asked Grant. “She doesn’t want to go with you. You’re here as a guest,” he said, glancing at Eva, who was standing behind Grant. “So act like one and have some respect, or we’ll leave you here. Do you understand?”

  “Yeah,” Grant said, his jaw clenched. “I understand.”

  “Let’s clear out people,” Renzo said, turning away and moving through the crowd, drawing it after him. “We have places to go and people to see.”

  “Do we still have a problem?” Marcus asked Grant.

  “No, we’re good,” Grant said, even though his body language said differently. “But I’d like to talk to Olivia for a minute. Alone. If that’s okay with you?”

  “That’s completely up to her,” Marcus said, keeping his face carefully neutral.

  Grant was standing there angry and confused. And yes, he was my friend and my best friend’s brother, and I knew I owed him an explanation for where I’d been and why I’d left. But we also had an Eidolon to get to, and I didn’t want to face Grant’s questions alone.

  “Can’t we talk after?” I asked hopefully.

  “No,” Grant insisted. “It can’t wait.”

  “I—um—okay, then go ahead. I trust these guys,” I said, nodding at Marcus and the PSS guys still standing around him.

  Everyone’s eyes were on Grant. Eva was staring at him, a look of half-confusion, half-dread dawning across her face. Marcus almost looked sorry for Grant. And I was looking at him too, because I had no idea what could be so important he needed to say it right there, right then.

  Grant’s eyes fell on me as if I were the only person in the world, and he inhaled a deep, shaky breath before he began, “When you went missing,” he said, the shock of finding me still a quiver in his voice. “I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t study. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t stop thinking about the horrible things that might be happening to you. Or worse, that you might be dead.” His voice broke a little on the last word. “That’s when I realized what an idiot I’d been to never tell you how I felt about you. I thought I’d lost that chance forever. I was a wreck, Liv, and I’d pretty much decided to quit school and go back home, but then I heard about this thing, this Eidolon, and I knew I had to come. I thought I might find some answers here, or some closure or something,” he said, his voice raw with emotion, “but I never dared to hope I’d actually find you.”

  I stood there stunned. In all the days since I’d left Greenfield, I’d never once thought about how it might have impacted Grant. In fact, I’d assumed it hadn’t. Out of all the things I thought he might say, a confession of his feelings for me had not been one of them. Last time I’d checked we’d been friends who’d made out once in his garage. Yes, I’d had a massive crush on Grant for years, but I’d never thought it was remotely mutual.

  I looked up to find Marcus staring down at me, his eyes dark and guarded.

  I glanced across at Eva and saw jealousy and barely con
tained hurt blazing from hers.

  And when I looked at Grant, I saw a friend, someone I cared deeply about who was in shock and on the edge of an emotional breakdown because of me. Even if I didn’t feel for him the way he felt for me, how could I just leave him there in the parking lot and go on my merry way?

  “I’m sorry,” I said to Grant. “I don’t even know what to say.”

  “How about you figure that out on the way to the Eidolon,” Marcus said, his voice flat, “or we’ll get left behind.”

  He was right. The parking lot was starting to empty out.

  “And you’re sticking with us,” Marcus said to Grant, pretty much a command. “I don’t trust you not to turn around, come back here, and call the authorities right down on our heads.”

  “I’m not going to do that,” Grant said, shooting daggers at Marcus with his eyes.

  “Good,” Marcus said. “Then you can come as Olivia’s guest.”

  “But he’s with—” I looked around for Eva, but she was gone, disappeared into the dissipating crowd. Shit. I’d made an enemy there without even trying.

  “Okay, everybody follow me,” Renzo called, moving up the trail near his previous rock perch. Where was Passion? I couldn’t see her amidst the dark sameness of the robes. But it didn’t matter, because I could feel her up there near Renzo, eager to get to Samantha and the Eidolon.

  “Let’s go,” Marcus said, turning to follow, and Yale, Nose, and Jason went with him.

  “Olivia,” Grant said, his eyes searching my face, his hands held out, as if he wanted to grab hold of me again. “I’m sorry if I messed this up. You have to understand. I can’t believe I found you.”

  “You don’t owe me an apology,” I said, “If anything, I owe you one. And I’ll try to explain. It’s complicated, but I’ll do the best I can. Come on. They’re getting ahead of us.”

  “Okay.” He nodded, but I could tell he was still in a daze.

  Then Grant and I followed the robed crowd into the woods up a winding trail, moonlight mixing with the occasional flash of PSS as various people took turns lighting the way.

  31

  GRAPPLING WITH GRANT

  “So, you’ve been in Indy all this time?” Grant asked as we entered a narrow ravine, the path we were on changing from a well-defined nature trail to a slightly damp creek bed full of slippery rocks and dark shadows. We were following the group, and a trail marker assured us we were on our way to something called The Devil’s Punchbowl.

  “No,” I said, looking ahead at the crowd, trying to pick out Marcus and the guys. “We’ve only been here for a week. Before that we were in the woods, traveling on ATVs.” Obviously, Marcus had suddenly decided Grant was my problem to deal with. It was probably better that way anyway. I hadn’t expected Marcus to get all clingy and jealous on me, but I was a little surprised he hadn’t hung back with me to keep his eye on Grant.

  Still, perhaps it was a vote of confidence and trust that he thought I could handle it on my own. And, if Grant thought he had feelings for me, it was my job to let him down easy. Having Marcus standing there while I did it would have just added salt to the wound.

  “But why did you even leave?” Grant asked. “I mean, I know the fire was devastating and things weren’t great between you and your mom—”

  “It wasn’t that,” I interrupted, slipping on a rock and almost falling flat on my face. I would have too, if Grant hadn’t reached out and caught my hand, holding me up.

  “Just a minute,” I said, pulling my hand from his and stripping off my gloves.

  Immediately, the blue glow of my PSS lit up the area we were in, a deep gully with towering, multi-layered sandstone cliffs on either side of us. Based on the incline we’d been walking, we were obviously moving up the gorge.

  The group had stalled in front of us, and now I could see why. Up ahead, the ravine we were in ran right up against a rock wall made of something harder than sandstone, the creek trickling over it into a giant bowl-like formation, which we were now standing in, hugging the edge to keep our feet dry. Leaning up against the sheer rock face ahead of us was a thick wooden ladder, and I could see people clambering up it, hiking their robes up around their knees so they wouldn’t trip on them. But with only one person on the ladder at a time, we were in for a wait. I glanced behind us. We seemed to be the end of the line, the last dregs in The Devil’s Punchbowl.

  “Listen,” I said to Grant. “I left Greenfield because I was in danger. The house fire wasn’t an accident. People were trying to kill me, or at the very least kidnap me. Mike Palmer was one of them, and that doctor my mom was dating. They’re CAMFers.”

  “Mike Palmer and Dr. Fineman are CAMFers?” he asked, incredulous and looking at me like I was crazy.

  “Yes.” I suddenly wished Marcus or someone was in on the conversation to back me up. “I’m on a list of people they’re trying to take, because we have PSS, and Marcus is too. He basically rescued me.” And then I’d had to turn right back around and rescue him and Emma. But I really didn’t want to go into that. Better to tell Grant that story when Emma was on hand to confirm it, because it was really going to freak him out. But I could tell him something. “Emma knew that part, but we swore her to secrecy because it would have put her and us in danger.”

  “Dammit,” he said, his face going red. “I knew she knew something. She was so quiet about it, but I could tell she wasn’t—I mean she wasn’t a basket case—she was doing better than I was and that didn’t make sense. I’m going to kill her the next time I see her.”

  “Don’t blame her. She was being the best friend ever.” It sounded like Grant didn’t know Emma and his parents would be in Indy tomorrow to see him. Maybe they were keeping it a surprise. Well, at least they’d be there to support him after I crushed his heart under my feet. Shit. This wasn’t going to be easy. “Grant,” I said, reaching out and touching his arm. “When I left, I didn’t think about how it would be for anyone else. I didn’t have much of a choice. I was running for my life.”

  “It’s okay,” he said, exhaling as if he’d finally remembered to breathe. “You’re okay, and that’s all that matters.”

  I didn’t even see it coming, the hug that crushed me to him and threatened to crack my ribs.

  “God, you’re really here,” he sighed against my hood.

  I’d be lying if I said that hug didn’t feel good, if I pretended that I hadn’t imagined him embracing me desperately like that a thousand times, but it was too late for us, for Grant and I. That ship had sailed, and I kind of hated the universe for throwing it in my face at the most inopportune moment possible.

  “Yes, I am,” I said, gently extracting myself from his arms and stepping back. The line of robed figures in front of us had dissipated, the last of them disappearing up the ladder. We were alone—about to be left behind—and it was probably as good a time as any to tell Grant about Marcus and me. “But a lot has changed since you last saw me.” I tiptoed toward it. “I’m not even that person anymore. I’ve learned things about my ghost hand, and my family, and myself that you wouldn’t even believe.”

  “Is that why you’re here at this Eidolon thing? Are you joining The Hold? Because that would be great. You could be here in Indy, and we—”

  “No,” I said, cutting off that line of thinking as fast as I could. Yes, it was something I’d considered, but if I told Grant that he’d get the wrong idea. “I’m not here for that. I’m here for Marcus, I’m here with Marcus. We’re together.”

  “You’re with Marcus?” Grant echoed, as if the words made no sense.

  “Yes.” I nodded, and in case that wasn’t clear enough. “I love him.”

  “You love him?” Grant asked angrily. “You’ve known that guy like three weeks, and you love him?”

  “We’ve been through a lot together,” I tried to explain. “He saved my life.”

  “Okay, whatever Olivia, that isn’t love; that’s gratitude. It might even be Stockholm syndrome considering he
took you away from your home and everyone who cared about you and isolated you in the woods for weeks. Maybe you were in danger, I don’t know. But I know a narcissistic asshole when I see one. He doesn’t love you. He barely knows you. There’s no way that guy cares about you half as much as I do,” Grant said, moving toward me, grabbing me, kissing me, his lips half-angry, half-desperate, and completely determined to prove something.

  I fought it, trying to pull away, even as my body remembered the sweetness of that day in the Campbells’ garage with him. Even as my mind reminisced about how much I’d wanted this and for how long, I knew I didn’t want it anymore.

  “Get off me,” I said against his lips, trying to turn my head. How dare he force himself on me like I owed him something? This was Grant, my friend, Emma’s brother. And I had clearly told him I loved someone else. What the hell did he think he was doing? My hands were pinned between us, and as I struggled to leverage them against his chest, my anger and helplessness building, I could feel my ghost hand wanting to reach into him. It would stop him. It would hurt him. It would help me.

  “I believe the lady is saying ‘No,’” Marcus said from behind us.

  Startled, Grant let go of me and stepped away.

  I turned to see Marcus and Jason standing at the bottom of the ladder. Jason was holding a handgun, and he wasn’t pointing it at Grant, but he was certainly showing it to him.

  “What the fuck?” Grant said, staring at the gun, and the guys, and then at me. “Are these the kind of people you hang out with now?”

  “Yes, they are,” I said. “I told you, a lot has changed.” Like the fact that Jason was using a gun to defend me, instead of threaten me.

  “So what? You’re going to shoot me in the woods now and go to your PSS rave with a clean conscience?” Grant challenged them.

  “Sure,” Jason said, smiling wickedly.