Ghost (The Halloween Boys #1) (26)

“Neither tonight, unfortunately. I’m having an . . . issue.”

“I’m sure there are doctors who can help.” She swished her long feline tail over the stone.

I cut the animal a sharp look. “It seems you haven’t been doing your job very well. Perhaps I should be looking for your replacement.”

She stopped licking a paw. “What? I’m impeccable at my job. These bastards are burning, tortured day and night. And the ones in the cemetery are comfortable. I’m cat-ing both forts while you leisurely walk in whenever you please.”

Annoyance burned my throat. “I did not hike all the way out here to argue with a house pet.”

Cat hissed, baring her gleaming white teeth. “And I didn’t plan on playing assistant to a pathetic haunted skeleton for all of eternity, yet here we are.”

I rubbed my temples, feeling the headache build behind my eyes. “You’ve let someone out, haven’t you?”

The black cat straightened. “Of course not. Why would I do that?”

“You tell me.”

She paced up and down the narrow stone. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would you say that? Is this some sort of test to see if I’ve slipped up? I’ve been here or there every single wretched night—”

“Calm down, you’re not in trouble. Unless you’re lying.”

Cat hissed.

“Perhaps you can answer this riddle for me then. Ash Grove sucks in a girl running from her abusive stepfather. He finds her. I plan to kill him.”

Cat narrowed her yellow eyes into slits, listening instead of talking for once. “If you planned to kill him then where is he? I’ve gotten no one new in months.”

“Exactly the riddle. Where is he? Because—” I pulled the letter out of my back pocket and held it up to her whiskers. “—she got this in the mail with me right outside her door.”

“That’s impossible.”

“None of us can feel, see, or scent him. Either he’s something like us or he has help.”

She perched into a little black loaf, tucking her paws in. “Then let him have the girl. It’s not worth the trouble. What does it matter if one human dies?”

I gritted my teeth. I wanted nothing more in that moment then to toss that stupid cat into the well. She noticed my anger and cocked her head. “You like a girl?”

I crossed my arms, remaining silent. Cat tossed her furry head back, baring her fangs in a cackle. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“You are damned.” I sighed. “Just give me a hint. I know you know something. You always do, you little fucking creep.”

Her sandpaper tongue licked her paw as she straightened and preened her whiskers. Vain little creature loved that I was asking her for help. “I’ll keep an ear out and see what I hear. But word of advice? You might want to reconsider trusting this human at their word. Because anything that’s caught the attention of something like that, the thing that wrote that?” She shuddered. “That’s not some normal girl.”

“Thanks, you’re ever so helpful, as always. I’ll let you get back to chasing mice and coughing up hairballs.”

She jumped down gracefully, hissing. The hollow ground beneath us rumbled. Suddenly the top layer of earth pushed up like it was mere carpet and not hundreds of pounds of dirt. We jostled and I kept my balance on my favorite tomb. Cat paused a moment, one paw frozen mid-step, considering. “It’s happening more and more. If you could only shift, perhaps you could make them behave.”

“Thanks for the advice but I’ve got it under control. Go catch a rodent or chase your tail.”

A meow screeched before she cursed, “Prick,” upon her sashay away.

I, at least, got one answer. Whoever, whatever he was, it didn’t come from here. All my souls were accounted for and screaming gloriously for their release. It eased my headache immediately, the melody of all of them together. Sure, things beyond Hell’s Gate were becoming more and more . . . disgruntled, and my inability to fully access my true form was unfortunate, but what could happen? I’d figure that out later. For now, there was a greater threat than meddling dead psychopaths. There was a real live psychopath chasing an innocent girl. I’d tear the town apart stone by stone tomorrow and find this motherfucker. In the meantime, the guys and I could easily keep Blythe safe. Shoving aside the top of the tomb, I pulled out my change of clothes along with white and black paint. But tonight was October first. The beginning of Hallows, the one time of year I could be free—we all could. I’d don the skeleton paint and creep through, though few knew how much worse my true form even was.

After combing back my hair and shrugging on a black leather jacket, I painted my knuckles and checked myself in the hand mirror I kept in the tomb of Joseph Watts: The Dismemberer. One of my longest sufferers in this graveyard. It made me nostalgic.

I checked my phone, and as expected, my blue dot was parked in the lot of the field far below. I’d see her soon. I’d see her every night for as long as she stayed here and perhaps beyond. My fascination with Blythe Pearl was only growing. Her fear called to me like a siren. Devils, it tasted so sweet. I wondered if the taste of her pussy matched that of her delicious terror. I could never find out . . . but the thought alone had me feeling feral.

And tonight, I was on the loose in these woods.