by Lori Drake
“Adam!” she called out in an urgent whisper, though why she was whispering, she couldn’t say. That they weren’t alone was clear. It wasn’t like whispering would do her any good.
Adam didn’t answer. The whole attic was eerily quiet, and it didn’t help quell Joey’s rising panic.
“Adam, come help me with the door!” she called, louder this time. She squatted down and pushed on the ladder, but the door didn’t budge. She had a sinking feeling that even if she jumped up and down on the damn thing that it wouldn’t make a lick of difference. The same thing that had held Colt’s door shut was at play here, probably some aspect of ghostly power. Joey had no real basis for comparison, but she firmly agreed with Dean. This ghost was powerful.
Glass crunched softly from the direction of the window, as if underfoot. At least she knew where Adam was for the moment. Trying to figure out what to do, she plunged deeper into the attic, casting her eyes about for something she could use as a weapon. If the ghost had possessed Adam—and she was certain that it had—she’d need to defend herself. She found an old wooden chair, or what was left of it. It was already broken, the back propped up against the seat. She turned the seat over and broke off one of the legs. The solid wood felt good in her hands. Reassuring. Perhaps not as reassuring as a bat would have been, but reassuring nonetheless.
Armed, she moved through the assorted bric-a-brac as quietly as possible, working her way over to the window. When it came into view, Adam was silhouetted in the moonlight. His back was to her, and he was on his knees.
Joey adjusted her grip on the chair leg and said, “Hey. Can we talk?”
Adam turned his head and looked over his shoulder at her. For a sickening moment, she was certain his head was going to do a full one-eighty, but it stopped around forty-seven.
“Talk? You want to talk?” His voice dripped with menace; it hardly sounded like Adam at all.
“Yeah. I’m Joey. What’s your name?”
Confusion colored his features, but soon vanished. His lip curled in a sneer. Glass crunched again as he got his feet under him and stood. Ambient light from outside glinted off the jagged piece of glass he held in one hand.
Joey was glad she’d stopped for the chair leg. “Come on, if you’re going to kill me, at least introduce yourself first.”
The one who was not Adam studied her for a long moment, then took a step closer. She brandished her makeshift cudgel in warning.
“Hey now, no need to get up close and personal. I just want to talk. I don’t really want to call you the Butcher, though I guess after what you did earlier to Jenny, that’s pretty apt. So if not that, what? Bob? Bob the Butcher?”
“The time for talk is done.” He took another step toward her.
“Man of action, eh? Well, I can respect that, but really, I’d like to know what you want.”
He stopped. The corners of his mouth turned down. “I want you to die.”
“Me? Why?”
His features twisted in sudden anger. “You know why!”
The force of his rage washed over Joey, raising goosebumps on her arms. She took an involuntary step back and fetched up against a stack of boxes. Her heart did a little stutter-step, and for a moment she was unable to speak. Literally speechless. Her family would have been impressed. That familiar sensation of the walls closing in rose. Normally she’d close her eyes and count to ten, but she didn’t think taking her eyes off this revenge-crazed spirit possessing poor Adam was a good idea.
The spirit stalked closer, leaning down to put his face in hers. Joey gripped the chair leg tighter, but didn’t swing it. Adam’s nostrils flared as he scented the air, confusion and disappointment manifesting on his face.
“You’re not one of them.” He stepped back, frowning at her.
“No, I’m not. So, can we talk? What do you want?”
The shade withdrew farther, a sort of moroseness settling over him now. “I want what was taken from me.”
“Taken?” Now they were getting somewhere. Maybe if she could figure out what was taken from him, he’d be able to pass on without having to resort to… Well, she still wasn’t sure entirely what that process entailed, but Dean had said it was unpleasant. Then again, if anyone deserved some unpleasantness, it was a hunter. How many wolves had he killed, before predator became prey?
“My wife. My daughter. My life.”
Joey’s chest constricted. Surely they hadn’t— It was just the hunter that they’d killed, right? “I can’t give any of those back to you,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
“Then they die.” He lifted the hand that held the jagged shard of glass and dragged the tip down the inside of Adam’s forearm, opening the vein there. Blood welled from the cut, dark against Adam’s light skin.
“No!” Joey exclaimed. She rushed forward and swung the chair leg. It connected with Adam’s dominant hand and the jagged glass shard fell to the floor. It shattered into smaller fragments on impact.
The spirit-man howled in impotent rage. “Don’t get in my way. You’ll regret it.” Then he turned and climbed out the small window.
“Adam! What’s going on? Are you okay?” someone called from outside.
“Chris!” Joey rushed to the window. “It’s not Adam!” She made a grab for Adam’s legs and caught them as he pushed off the roof outside. He pulled her out the window with him, and for a terrifying moment, she felt herself in free fall. This is how it ends, she thought. Broken beyond repair from a three-story drop.
Only that wasn’t how it ended. A hand clamped around her ankle and her fall was terminated abruptly. She twisted to look up, still holding on to Adam’s legs, and saw Chris hanging out the window directly below the attic window.
“I’ve got you!” he said.
“What the hell?” Adam’s sudden, horrified exclamation was no doubt courtesy of the ghost vacating his body.
“It’s okay, Adam, we’ve got you! Is there anything down there you can grab on to?” Joey asked. They must have been quite the sight, a human chain dangling out a second-story window. But even if worse came to worst, it was unlikely a fall would kill either of them at this point. Unless, perhaps, they landed on their heads. A broken neck was hard for even a lycanthrope to recover from. Once those nerves were damaged, the brain tended to have difficulty telling the body to do important things, like breathe.
Adam didn’t look very athletic on the surface, but he managed to twist and pull himself up onto the peaked gable nearby. Once Joey was able to release his legs, she contracted her abdominal muscles and reached a hand up to grab Chris’s. He hauled her in through the window, and she sagged against the wall while he helped Adam inside too. She waved off Jessica’s offered hand and watched as the anxiety on Lucy’s face shifted to relief when her twin was helped inside. She rushed to him, exclaiming over his slashed and bloodied arm.
“What happened?” Lucy asked him. He didn’t answer, just stared at his arm mutely.
“The ghost possessed him and did it, then made him jump out the window,” Joey said.
Adam turned a lighter shade of pale. He turned toward Joey while Lucy stripped a pillowcase from the bed and wound it around his forearm.
“Thank you,” he said. “I owe you my life.”
“Thank Chris. If he hadn’t caught me, I would’ve gone down with you.”
Chris, turning from closing the window, waved off the praise. “Jess helped too.”
Joey wrapped her arms around Chris and hugged him tightly, burying her face against his chest. His arms were warm and solid around her, but she couldn’t shake the fear that at any moment he might be possessed. How pissed was Bob the Butcher about them foiling his plans for Adam? She had to give him points for creativity, if nothing else. He’d sliced one wolf open, had one kill his lover, and nearly had one commit suicide. This wasn’t your garden-variety haunting.
Or, at least, she hoped not. Then again, Dean had once told her his work was dangerous. She hadn’t gotten a good idea of just how dan
gerous it could be until then.
“Everyone else is waiting downstairs,” Chris said. “We moved Jenny to the living room, but she’s still out. Brandon was starting a fire when left them. Let’s go warm up.”
Joey would never admit that she wasn’t shivering because she was cold. She loosened her hold on Chris reluctantly and turned to head toward the door with the others. She dragged her feet a little, letting the others exit before them. Once she deemed them out of earshot, she paused and caught Chris’s hand, holding him back. “Eric’s not going to be down much longer. If he still is. We need to deal with him,” she said, keeping her voice low.
He met her eyes and reached up to brush a lock of hair behind her ear. She wished he’d kiss her, but he stopped at hair tucking. “Gotcha. Try not to jump out of any more windows, okay? What did Dean say?”
Joey groaned and slapped her forehead. “I dropped my phone out the window, and we didn’t finish our conversation. He said we need to find out what the ghost wants and help him find it, or dig him up and do something that’d be really unpleasant for him, but the reception was so shitty that I only got, like, every other instruction.”
Chris winced. “Okay, let’s take care of a few things and we’ll go look for your phone.”
“There’s more,” she said. “I asked what he wants. Bob. He said something about a wife and kid. I don’t know if they’re alive or…”
“I hope to hell they’re alive.” Chris looked toward the doorway with a frown.
“Me too. If they are, they might be the key to stopping this. Maybe we can get in touch with them, get them to help.”
“How do we do that, without them finding out who killed him?”
“I don’t know. It’s just a theory. I’m still working on it.”
Chris caught her hand and gave it a squeeze. “One step at a time, right?” He tugged her toward the door.
Nodding, Joey followed him out of the room, and they descended the stairs together after pausing to check on Kate’s body. It hadn’t moved, so at least they had that going for them.
Downstairs, the Granite Falls wolves were gathered around the fireplace. They looked over as one when Joey and Chris came downstairs. Some straightened their shoulders and lifted their chins.
Ben was taking a look at Adam’s arm. “You know, when you said you had a feeling you might need a medic tonight, I don’t think this is what either of us had in mind, sis.”
Joey snorted softly and squeezed his shoulder in passing. “Either way, I’m glad you’re here. Is he going to need stitches?”
“No, it’s not as bad as it looks. Barely nicked the vein, and it’s already starting to close. Just needs some pressure while it heals. I’ll wrap it up and he’ll be good.”
“See? I told you it was nothing,” Adam said to Lucy. She smirked and laid her head on his shoulder. They were both squeezed into an oversized armchair.
Joey ended up perching on the arm of the sofa near Jenny’s feet. Chris stood beside her and together they addressed the pack.
“Okay, so… the cat’s out of the bag,” Joey said. “We know you killed the hunter, and now he seems to be back for revenge. That sucks. It’s going to be a long fucking night, and you’re going to have to look out for each other. That’s the bad news. The good news is that we aren’t completely helpless here. I’ve got a friend who’s good with these sorts of things, and he says that we can get rid of the ghost if we dig up his body. Anyone know where he’s buried?”
They all looked at Jessica. She sighed.
“Jess?” Chris said.
“Yeah, I know where he’s buried,” she replied. “Sort of.”
“What do you mean by ‘sort of?’” Joey asked. “How many bodies do you have buried in the woods?”
Chris coughed. Joey shot him a look.
Jessica’s expression turned pained. “It’s not like we erected a headstone in his bloody honor. He was a fucking hunter. I can find it, but it’s going to be a challenge in the dark.”
“Well, you’ll have to do your best, because I don’t think it’s a good idea to wait until morning.”
Jessica stood from her crouch and put her hands on her hips. “That’s not your decision.”
Joey got to her feet, a low growl rumbling from her throat. “Who are you going to wait on? Eric? Your Alpha—and I use that term very loosely—is delusional. He actually accused Colt of faking his memory loss as a cover-up.”
“I’m Eric’s second. If he’s not capable of making the call, I will.”
“Then make it,” Joey snapped. “What are you waiting on, someone else to die?”
“Enough,” Itsuo said quietly. “This isn’t the time for arguing over the pecking order or pack politics.”
“Agreed,” Chris murmured. All eyes turned to him, and as one, the Granite Falls wolves nodded. Even Jessica.
Joey filed that away for later and sat back down.
“Let me talk to Eric,” Jessica said, though there was more than a hint of a question in it.
“Not by yourself,” Chris told her. “It’s too dangerous. This spirit is obviously powerful, and clearly enjoys turning us against each other.”
“Turning them against each other,” Joey murmured.
Chris arched a brow and gave her an inquiring look.
“In the attic, he figured out that I wasn’t one of the ones that killed him, and once that happened, he wasn’t interested in me anymore.”
“I wouldn’t put too much faith in that,” Chris said, touching her back lightly. “He’s not exactly in his right mind, you know? If we get in his way, we may be an acceptable loss.”
Joey grimaced, but nodded. “Fair enough. Okay, let’s go talk to Eric.”
Jessica didn’t look happy about Joey’s intent to tag along, but Chris nodded, and she headed for the stairs in silence.
Not wanting her to get too far ahead, Joey stood and followed. Chris’s hand lingered on her back as he walked with her, and she curled an arm around his waist while they walked. She glanced up at him.
“Nice catch, by the way.”
He smiled down at her. “I guess all that lift work finally came in handy.”
Joey chuckled and gave him a squeeze. “Can’t remember the last time you dropped me.”
“Must be doing something right, then.”
“Quit flirting and hurry up,” Jessica called over her shoulder, her annoyance clear.
Joey smiled.
13
Chris didn’t linger long at the scene of the crime. To say he was frustrated would be an understatement. Not only had he failed Kate, he’d failed to get through to Joey in the aftermath. He hated taking over Ben without permission, but in the heat of the moment, it’d seemed better to ask forgiveness later, since he had no way of gaining consent.
Leaving Joey to clean up the mess, he went looking for his body. It seemed unlikely that Jessica had been able to move it very far. Everything had happened so fast, and she’d been right on Joey’s heels when the door had burst open. He started at the bathroom and went room to room, searching.
Self-doubt dogged his every step. Had he done the right thing, getting involved? Had he given Kate a chance at survival, or taken it away? At least she hadn’t had to look up at Colt’s sneering face as she died. Chris had that dubious honor. But who—or what—had taken over Colt? Was it another astral walker, like Chris? A spirit, like the ones Harper had communicated with? Chris didn’t know the answer, and though he kept a wary eye out for any sign of a spiritual disturbance as he moved from room to room, he came up empty on both fronts. No spirit, no body.
Despair threatened to overwhelm him. He sagged against a wall and rubbed his spectral forehead. In the three months and change since he’d returned to his body, he’d managed to forget how difficult it was to control his emotions on this plane. He hadn’t forgotten everything, of course. The sense of isolation, of disconnection, had followed him back to the living world. Though the nightmares had mostly abated, he s
till felt… different, somehow. And now, plagued by doubt and frustration, he found it difficult to function at all.
He had to find his body. The thought made him seek out Jessica. She’d been in the process of moving him when the commotion had called her away. Maybe she hadn’t finished.
When he opened his eyes, he found himself in the kitchen.
“There you are,” Jessica said, crossing to where Eric sat at the table. He held a bag of frozen peas against one side of his face. “Did Brandon find you?”
Eric peered at her with his uncovered eye. “I find it hard to believe Brandon wants to punch me.”
“What happened?” She reached for the bag and pulled it away from his face, revealing an impressive shiner.
“Itsuo,” he spat, and jerked his head back when she probed his swollen eye with her fingertips. “We have to deal with him. His attitude sets a bad example.”
“We’ve got a bigger problem.”
Eric pressed the bag to his face again and frowned. “What happened?”
“Kate’s dead.”
Chair legs scraped noisily against the tile as Eric stood abruptly. “What? How?”
“I don’t know. We found Colt with her, both of them beat to hell, but—”
The bag of peas flew through Chris as it arced toward the sink. Eric was already in motion, heading for the door.
Jessica caught his arm. “Wait! We need to talk.”
Eric turned and gave her a hard look. She removed her hand from his arm and lowered her eyes. “Talk,” he said.
“After you left, Jenny—she—she said…”
“Spit it out.”
“He’s back.”
“He who?”
Jessica’s eyes narrowed. “He was in the woods, Eric. You saw him. We all saw him.”
“What are you saying?” He folded his arms, biceps bulging beneath the sleeves of his T-shirt.
Jessica hesitated, catching her lower lip between her teeth for a long, pensive moment before saying, “Eric, it’s the Butcher.”