Ghost (The Halloween Boys #1) (13)
I wanted to watch her. Needed to watch her. I’d stalked people before and enjoyed the thrill. This was different, though, somehow. I couldn’t put my finger on it, and it was pissing me off.
The therapist in me said in a calm and cooing voice in my ear to sit with that sensation and quietly get curious about its origin. But I wasn’t the therapist tonight. Tonight, the mask was off. Under the moon on a vacant piece of dead land, the monster prowled beneath my skin, itching to be set free, let off its leash, thirsty for blood. The monster wouldn’t be stretching its claws in its psychologist’s chair tonight. No, these feelings would be set free by one thing and one thing alone: pain.
Glorious, mind-numbing pain. A blood sacrifice to the monster in the woods, offered in front of the bonfire burning outside the damned barn I stalked toward. My little piece of Hell, right here and now . . . It was beautiful.
Even the chilled breeze stilled upon my approach. The crickets’ chirps were long gone now, even the fireflies hiding with their lights off, while the cockiest crow and most judgmental owl kept silent, watching the predators descend.
Stopping by the raging fire, I unbuttoned my shirt, letting it fall to the grass. I stretched my triceps and popped my neck and knuckles. I knew what awaited me inside the barn and I was eager, wanting, needing. The moment my first step touched the rotted wood plank . . . it attacked.
They attacked, rather.
My jaw ached from the surprise slam to my jaw. The tangy taste of blood invaded my mouth. I took a moment to spit before sensing the follow-up blow. This one I dodged. Tonight, I’d be battling a dragon, a wolf, and the Devil. If I could defeat them, they’d hear me out. If I could defeat them, they’d join my cause. Dragon stumbled, not expecting to hit air instead of flesh. It was the opportunity I needed. With a jolt of energy, my fist made contact with his face before my other fist hooked him in the abdomen. He lurched forward with a grunt.
And then a thick arm wrapped around my throat. Wolf didn’t go easy. he never did. He was a beast who never showed mercy, and I fucking loved him for that. “Kill me if you can, motherfucker. I want you to,” I gritted out through the lack of air. Instead of pulling against his grip, I pushed in it, feeling the tight flurry of lightheadedness. The treat of blessed darkness.
“You’re a deranged bastard,” he growled in my ear. The Beast.
I couldn’t stop the quirk of my lips as I said goodbye to the temptation of unconsciousness. With a balance of my stance and turn of my broad shoulders, I hauled Wolfgang over my body. He dropped with a thud and I gave him a sharp kick for good measure. But I knew I couldn’t linger and beat the piss out of him like I wanted. The scariest of them all waited. He wouldn’t lunge. He wouldn’t bother trying to surprise me or take me off guard. No, The Devil wanted me to know he was there. He wanted me to see him coming. The Devil didn’t need the element of surprise. He didn’t want it. That evil fucking being got off on terror. I guessed I could relate.
Awareness pricked the hairs on the back of my neck and I turned. His shadow encompassed the musty space as he leaned casually against the splintered frame. The jagged crescent moon hung in the corner above him like horns. “Come on, fucker, give me all you’ve fucking got.” I growled, steadying my breath. The smallest hesitation flashed through me as he took one slow step forward. We were all big, but he was bigger.
He was bigger but I was more ruthless.
Not willing to play into his cat and mouse that night, I charged with a rebel yell. He didn’t bother to step aside, instead letting me ram into his solid front. Any other man or monster would have fallen back with such force, but not this immortal son of a bitch. One step back caused me to grin as if I’d just defeated a giant. He didn’t step back last time. He noticed, too, and it made him angry. A rough hand curled around my neck and gripped hard, lifting me off my feet like I didn’t weight over two-hundred-and-thirty-some pounds. “Fuck,” I gargled out. Instinctually when air supply is threatened, when a monster is holding you by the neck like a living gallows rope, you want to kick and claw and scream. The animal inside of us says get air, panic, flail. But part of my training, part of what happened here, was a relearning. A slap in the face to the basic human body and a call to something greater. My weapons of weight and gravity were useless on such an opponent. I’d have to resort to, well, cheating. I shot the hard part of my palm forward, feeling the sting when bone hit me hard. An ounce more of force and I could have broken his nose; if he were anyone else, I would have. The Devil tossed me forward. My back screamed against the wooden beam of the barn. The entire dilapidated structure moaned at the impact. Likewise, I assessed that an ounce more force from him would have broken my spine. If I were anyone else, he would have.
The man’s looming presence stood over me looking murderous. I wondered if this was how my victims felt when I towered over them before the kill: helpless, tired, defeated. He reached out a hand. I stood with a grunt, feeling the trickles of blood beading down my back. I slapped him on the arm. “Good to see you too, old friend.”
He didn’t respond. He rarely did.
“You promised something good,” Wolf stated, crossing his arms.
Onyx, or Dragon as he was called here, tossed me a glass bottle. “Let the man have a beer first, for fuck’s sake.”
I chuckled, popping the cap and taking a swig. “It’s been a while. I know you’re all as bloodthirsty as I am right now.”