by Kat Bellamy
“Evie and Stan never did get along,” Susan sighed.
So a night of drinking and “that bitch” was “Evie” now. Colt hoped he never ended up on Susan’s bad side, but if he did, it seemed easy enough to get back into her good graces.
“Oh,” Susan cried as if suddenly remembering something. “What was it you came over for again, dear?”
“No reason, really.” Colt hesitated. “Ronnie just stopped by the site earlier and seemed out of sorts, so I thought I’d make sure he made it home okay.”
“Oh, that’s sweet of you. I’m sure he’s up in his room,” Susan said, moving toward the kitchen stairs. “Ronnie!” she called. When he didn’t answer, she climbed the stairs and returned a few minutes later, frowning. “That’s odd. He’s usually home by now.”
“Maybe he’s out with friends,” said Colt.
Susan and Stan did that thing where they looked at each other and seemed to be communicating telepathically. “I don’t think so,” Susan said carefully. “Ronnie doesn’t really have friends.”
Ouch.
“I’ll go look for him,” said Stan, reaching for his coat on the hook by the door.
“I’ll go with you,” Colt offered.
“No, don’t you worry, dear. Wherever he is, I’m sure he’s fine,” said Susan. “Sometimes he just gets a little...well,” she said, brushing her hands over her skirt. “Stan will find him.”
“Okay,” Colt said, following Stan out the door. “Well, goodnight.”
“Goodnight, dear,” Susan called pleasantly.
When Colt glanced back at his car, he saw the husband and wife conversing worriedly at the door. Now he understood why Evelyn and Susan had been so close. They were both good at putting on airs.
Chapter 20
The weekend came and went and all of Colt’s attempts to find out if Ronnie had gotten home safe were met by a brief voicemail from Susan assuring him that everything was fine. Colt still had his doubts, especially after the weird mood Ronnie had been in, but he resigned himself to letting the Browns deal with it. At least Ronnie was safe, and being around Colt wasn’t going to do him any favors. Not if the other ghouls eventually put together what had happened to Trace Levitt.
Jason had been a scarce commodity ever since he’d started his new internship. At least, Colt could hope that was why he’d gone MIA. He knew Jason had been dealing with fallout from coming out to his parents, and he hoped he hadn’t done anything to exacerbate it.
When lunchtime came, Colt was about to call Jason to ask how the internship was going when he saw the Sheriff’s car pull up to the edge of the lot. Shit. He wandered over and stopped at the curb as Roland parked.
“Afternoon, Sheriff. What can I do for you?”
Roland gave him a look that screamed, “You know damn well why I’m here,” but he said nothing until he came to stand next to Colt. The Sheriff glanced to make sure they were alone before leaning in. “I got the Moreaus up my ass about some missing trust fund prick. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
“Trace Levitt?” Colt asked coolly. “Susan’s friend mentioned it the other night.”
Roland’s eyes narrowed. He slipped his phone out and held the screen up for Colt to look at. “This guy look familiar to you?”
Colt reluctantly glanced at the photo of a group of twenty-somethings with popped collars standing in front of a fountain. “Which one?” he asked, even though one man in the picture stood out immediately. Even though Colt had only seen him in his transformed state, the resemblance was strong enough to make it clear that he was looking at a photo of Trace Levitt.
“Don’t get cute with me. Was this the ghoul you killed or not?”
Colt hesitated. “I don’t know. Maybe. It...looks like him,” he confessed, deciding that lying outright to the Sheriff when it wasn’t absolutely necessary was the best way to get himself killed.
“Son of a bitch,” Roland muttered, turning away. He ran a hand down his tired face before slipping his phone back into his pocket. “The gift that keeps on giving.”
“I’m sorry. I still haven’t told anyone other than the Browns.”
“Trace is still gone,” Roland snapped. “The Moreaus are gonna want blood.”
“Who is Trace, exactly?”
“It’s not that little shit that matters. His mother is Vincent Moreau’s sister, and you’ve just opened a whole can of worms. Now I’ve got people speculating about rival families, Rogues and fucking ghoul hunters.”
“Rogues?”
“A ghoul who’s dumb enough to eat another ghoul.”
“I thought that was just called an Alpha.”
“No, dipshit. You’re only an Alpha if you’re part of the Moreau family. Otherwise, you’re as good as dead.”
Colt winced. A distinction with a crucial difference. “I told you, I didn’t eat his flesh.”
“You damn well better be telling the truth, because I had that entire area searched including the water below the falls, and there’s not a trace of the body left.”
“A trace of Trace?” Colt regretted the joke instantly. Roland wasn’t laughing.
“If you’re lying to me and someone found that body --”
“Even if someone did find the body, there’s no way they’d connect it to me, or to you and the Browns,” Colt reasoned. “They’d have no reason to. I didn’t do shit, but if another ghoul found the body and ate some of it, they’re the one who’d look guilty. Why would they risk saying something just to set the Moreaus on a stranger’s trail for no reason?”
Roland glared, but he seemed to be considering the logic in Colt’s words. They had come so quickly without Colt fully planning on what to say that he was surprised himself. Roland mumbled something he couldn’t quite make out and turned away. “Oh, and another thing,” he said, turning back to shove a finger in Colt’s face. Colt had been a ghoul for months, but he’d never had quite as strong of an urge to bite someone. “I hear that boyfriend of yours is working down at Liam Carver’s office now.”
Colt’s blood ran cold. He thought of denying it, but it was easy enough to verify and he knew the best way to keep Roland from using Jason as leverage was to feign nonchalance. “Yeah. He’s got an internship. Is that a problem?”
“That depends a lot on how comfy your boyfriend is with Carver.”
“I thought the humans didn’t know we existed.”
“You know how an alligator catches its prey, Colt?”
“No,” he said warily.
“It hides underwater. Usually just for thirty minutes or so, but rumor has it, some of them can go a full day if they need to,” the Sheriff said casually, taking a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket along with a butane lighter. “Then, when the prey gets close enough to the water’s edge…” He snapped the lighter shut suddenly and the sharp sound made Colt jolt. “See, the dumb animals, they never see it coming. The smart ones? They pay attention to the surface of the water. They see a ripple, they run. Carver and his bitch boy, Wilbur? They’ve seen the ripples for a while now. They know something’s beneath the surface.”
Colt swallowed hard. “If the Moreaus are as powerful as everyone seems to think, why haven’t they done anything to stop Carver?”
Roland shrugged, blowing a puff of smoke into the air. “Carver has a mysterious accident, Wilbur takes his place. Drop the DA and his next in line into the water and you make some very big ripples. The policy on Carver is wait and see.”
“Wait and see what?” Colt called as the Sheriff went back to his car.
Roland leaned on the open door. “He’s smart enough to see the ripples. We’ll see if he’s smart enough to run. Either way, I wouldn’t want someone I cared about that close to the water when he makes his decision. Enjoy the rest of your day, Colt.”
Colt watched in silence as the Sheriff drove off. It would have been one thing if Roland had directly threatened Jason. That he would at least know how to handle, even if he wasn’t s
ure how he’d deal with the fallout of killing Susan’s brother. It was the fact that Roland was warning him about something he’d already been afraid of that he didn’t know what to do with.
Chapter 21
Colt woke to the sound of someone in his kitchen. Since Jason was the only other person with the key to his apartment and Colt knew for a fact he was taking an exam that morning, he jumped to the worst conclusion.
After his run-in with the mugger, Colt had purchased a gun at Roland’s recommendation. Ghouls were as prone to be the victims of petty crime as anyone else, especially in an area like the one Colt lived in. The difference was, humans needed guns to protect themselves. Ghouls needed guns so they wouldn’t have to resort to means of self-defense that were bound to leave an even bigger mess and trigger their more basic instincts.
As Colt crept out into the living room, gun in hand, he heard someone rummaging around in his kitchen. “Freeze,” he barked, aiming at the burglar as he rounded the corner.
Ronnie turned around, staring wide-eyed at Colt with a carton of eggs in one hand and a loaf of bread in the other. Not exactly the murder weapon Colt had been expecting, but Ronnie wasn’t the person he’d been expecting to find, either.
“I was gonna share.”
“Son of a bitch, Ronnie,” Colt muttered, tucking the gun back into his waistband. “How’d you even get in here?”
“There was a key under the mat. Kind of an obvious hiding place, by the way,” Ronnie said, laying his findings out on the counter. He turned and started rummaging through Colt’s cabinets until he found a frying pan.
“Right,” Colt sighed. “More to the point, why are you here? Are your parents okay?”
“They’re fine. Why wouldn’t they be?” Ronnie asked, cracking an egg into the frying pan.
Colt hesitated. “I just thought you came to tell me they found Trace or something.”
“Nope. Not as far as I know.” Ronnie paused, frowning. “You said I could come by, but if you want me to leave --”
“No, of course not. I’m just surprised to see you,” Colt admitted, sitting down at the counter. “Especially in my kitchen at--” He paused, glancing at the clock on the microwave. “Six in the morning.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. I was out late and I didn’t really feel like going back home.”
Colt watched him worriedly. “What happened?”
“If it’s all the same, I’m avoiding home because I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“Say no more. You’re welcome to stay as long as you want, but I’ve gotta be at work in an hour.”
“I’ll be gone by the time you get home, no worries. How do you take your eggs?”
“Over easy, but you don’t have to cook.”
“Least I can do for breaking in and stealing your eggs,” Ronnie said, grabbing another pan from the cabinet. He reached for the plastic bin Colt kept all the way in the back of the refrigerator so Jason wouldn’t accidentally find it and ask questions he didn’t want the answer to.
“I thought you hated that shit.”
“I do, but you feed everyday, right?”
“Well, yeah, but you don’t need to --”
“I’m not that squeamish,” Ronnie said, rolling his eyes. He dropped the meat into the frying pan and Colt didn’t miss the way he grimaced when it started to smell a bit too much like normal bacon, even for Colt’s comfort.
“Thanks,” Colt said once Ronnie placed a plate in front of him. The younger ghoul sat at the counter across from Colt and started in on his toast and eggs. After a few minutes of painfully awkward silence had passed, Colt decided to step out in front of the firing squad. “So, how are classes?”
Ronnie gave him a look. “Seriously?”
“What? Too personal?” Colt asked in a dry tone.
“Just because we’re eating together doesn’t mean you have to pretend to be interested in my classes. Hell, I’m not interested in my classes.”
“I’m interested. Really,” Colt said when he saw the disbelieving look Ronnie was giving him. “Come on, I’ve practically been at your house every day for the last few months and I barely even know you. You don’t wanna talk about your classes, fine, but you gotta give me something. Goals, hobbies, favorite color…”
Ronnie’s mouth twitched. “Okay, fine. Computer Science. Happy?”
Colt frowned in mock confusion. “That’s a weird fuckin’ color, but whatever floats your boat.”
“You’re as bad as my dad,” Ronnie groaned.
Colt grinned. “So you like programming? Hacking, shit like that?”
“Not everything that has to do with computers is hacking,” Ronnie scoffed. “But yeah, incidentally, shit like that. I dunno what I’m gonna do with it, really. Maybe nothing, but I need to pick a major and it’s the only thing that’s remotely interesting, so…”
“That’s cool. I admire anyone whose brain works like that. Mine sure doesn’t.”
“Yeah, well, I can’t hammer a nail into a wall without getting hurt, so I guess we’re all good at something.”
“Guess so.” Colt glanced up at the clock. “Speaking of which, I gotta run. Make yourself at home, but uh, fair warning, snoop around in my nightstand at your own risk,” he said, pulling on his jacket.
“Duly noted,” Ronnie snorted. “Have a good day building shit.”
Considering the fact that the suppliers Colt had ordered from sent the wrong shipment and two of his crew were out sick when he arrived on site, good might have been an overstatement, but at least Colt managed to make it through the day without any more surprise visits from the Sheriff. He had to work through his lunch break and only realized when he’d gotten back to his office where his phone was charging that he’d missed half a dozen calls from Jason. It wasn’t like him to call more than once, but when Colt called Jason’s number, it went straight to voicemail. If it hadn’t been for the fact that Jason had posted on social media ten minutes earlier, he would have been concerned.
Colt headed back to his apartment and planned on changing out of his sweaty clothes before driving over to Jason’s dorm. When he opened the door, he was surprised to find Ronnie asleep on the couch. The door slipped from his grasp, but the sound did nothing to jolt Ronnie out of his slumber. Colt walked closer just to make sure he was still breathing. He grabbed a blanket off the arm of the couch and went to drape it over his houseguest, but the moment the fringe brushed Ronnie’s upper arm, the young ghoul bolted upright with a catlike hiss. For a split second, his scleras turned black, but the color receded from them as well as his face when he realized where he was.
“Oh, shit,” he muttered, scrambling up off the couch. He reached for his glasses on the coffee table and slipped them on over his bloodshot eyes. “I’m so sorry. I was just gonna close my eyes for a minute, and --”
“It’s fine,” Colt said, staring at Ronnie in concern. “I told you, you’re welcome to crash here however long you want.”
“I should go home,” Ronnie mumbled, grabbing his jacket.
“I’ll drive you. But why don’t you wait a second? You’re shaking.”
“I’m not --” Ronnie stopped short as he looked down at his hands and quickly shoved them into his pockets to hide the evidence. “I’m fine. You just surprised me, that’s all.”
Colt watched him closely. He’d pulled enough all nighters in support of Jason to know what days without sleep and a diet of coffee and energy drinks looked like. “You aren’t sleeping at home, are you?” He wasn’t sure there was any real basis for the question other than his hunch, until he saw the look in Ronnie’s eyes.
Ronnie didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. That look said enough.
“Ronnie,” Colt said, taking a step closer. “Whatever it is, you can talk to me. I’m not your parent, and I know we’re not exactly friends, but I’d like to be. If something’s wrong --”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Ronnie snapped. He cringed, rubbing his colorless face. “I’m sorry. It�
�s just...it’s nothing you can fix.”
“Didn’t say it was. But I can still listen.”
Ronnie didn’t reply, but Colt could tell he was actually thinking about it. The younger man looked up at him with eyes so full of doubt and vulnerability that Colt had an even harder time than usual accepting that he was anything other than human. Months earlier, if anyone had told him that there were monsters who fed on human flesh, he wouldn’t have believed any of them capable of innocence, but as kind as Stan and Susan had been to him, Ronnie was the one who gave him hope that not all ghouls were monsters. Maybe it was the fact that he owed the Browns so much, or maybe it was because Ronnie had always reminded him a bit too much of the foster brother Colt had made the mistake of getting attached to years ago, but he couldn’t help but feel protective toward the kid.
Just when Colt was sure Ronnie was going to give him an actual answer, the door opened. Jason stared at them both, seemingly caught between whatever panic he’d been in when he entered the room and surprise at the scene he’d walked in on. “Oh...hi.”
“Jason. I was about to come find you,” Colt said.
Jason eyed Ronnie doubtfully. “Yeah. Um, sorry for interrupting. I can come back later.”
“Don’t do that,” Ronnie mumbled. “I was just on my way out.”
Colt cleared his throat. “Ronnie, this is my boyfriend, Jason. Jason, this is Ronnie Brown. He’s the son of those friends I told you about.”
“Nice to meet you,” Jason said with a wary smile.
“You, too. Thanks for letting me crash here while you were at work, Colt,” Ronnie said in a way that made it clear he wanted there to be no doubt as to why he was there. “See you later.”
“Ronnie, wait!” Colt called, but the boy was already out the door. “Shit.”
“If you need to go after him, I can just call you later,” said Jason.
Colt hesitated. He knew he could catch up with Ronnie, but he doubted he could convince him to spill whatever he’d been on the verge of saying. “No, I should probably just give him some time,” he said, closing the door. “Sorry about missing your calls earlier, my phone died while I was at the site.”