Ghost (The Halloween Boys #1) (40)

“You could go harder,” she replied.

Thank the Devil I wasn’t a regular man because I would have lost control of my bike at that point. We would have been goners. Who could stay upright at a response like that?

With a raspy laugh, I instructed her, “Loop your fingers together around me and lean in to the curves, not away, got it?” I’d like to lean into her curves.

“Got it,” she said with excitement

I pushed past a moment of doubt and let the speedometer crank forward until it disappeared. My bike was made for this, and it purred in appreciation. But even more so, I was made for speed. She had no idea how fast we were truly going, but we were torpedoing between worlds. Blythe laughed behind me, thoroughly enjoying herself as we raced down the winding roads of backwoods Ash Grove. When we arrived at the old library attached to the abandoned high school, I jumped off and offered her my hand. “Looks like we beat the guys here,” I remarked, pleased with that fact.

Her hand trembled slightly as she took mine and got off. I helped her unclip and remove the matte black helmet, and when I did, alarm washed over me. “You’re crying. It was too fast. Blythe, I’m so sorry—”

She sniffled and shook her head. “No, it wasn’t too fast. It was perfect. I loved every second.” And then her arms wrapped around my waist and she buried her head in my chest. If I had a heart, it would have stopped. This was . . . a hug? I wasn’t sure I’d ever gotten one from a woman before. “Thank you, Ames,” she whispered.

I wrapped my arms around her in return and gently stroked her hair. “It was my pleasure, Little Ghost.” The words left my mouth before I could stop myself. A hint. A plea.

She looked up, still holding onto me, her brown eyes speckled with . . . black. They were like marbles. Remarkable. “Little Ghost?”

“You called yourself a ghost the first day we met in my office.”

A small sad smile swooped over her pink lips. “I guess I’m haunting you, then.”

“I’d love to be haunted by you,” I replied, surprised by the breathlessness that had overcome me, and it wasn’t from the ride.

Her eyes sparkled, the black streaks dancing. Before she could reply, the sound of two dumbasses interrupted. “Way too fucking fast, Ames,” Wolf chastised.

“What were you thinking? Shit, are you okay, Blythe?” Onyx asked, wholly annoyed. But I couldn’t even be mad, and I couldn’t let her out of my arms, even when she tugged back slightly. Mine.

“I’m fine. It was my idea to go fast,” she admitted.

Wolf grinned his positively canine smile. Once you knew what he was, you saw it in every part of him. How he walked, interacted, and spoke. He was the living embodiment of a mythical shadow beast. “Our girl’s got a need for speed, huh? You’re fitting in just fine, baby.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s get inside. It looks like it’s going to rain again soon,” Onyx muttered, walking past us. I would have apologized for stealing Blythe away from his breakfast and library date, but I wasn’t sorry. And they weren’t listening to my warning to not get overly emotionally involved with her. Onyx needed a reality check.

“My jacket looks nice on you,” I commented as we made our way inside.

She blushed. “Thank you. It’s comfortable. Was it from your grandpa?”

“No,” I replied absently as the cold, stale air of books and memories smacked me in the face.

Blythe broke away from our group, exploring, running a delicate finger over musty leather spines. “This place looks like it’s frozen in time,” she said, picking up a book. “This can’t be a first edition from eighteen-twenty, right?”

She and Onyx exchanged a gentle look before he answered, “What you see is what you get in here. No tricks.”

“This place is all new to me too,” Wolf joked. “I sure as shit didn’t spend any time doing homework in here.”

“You went to school here? Wait, all three of you went here together?”

Wolf nodded. “Yep, a long time ago.”

“Couldn't have been that long ago,” she replied, distracted by a wall of browning newspapers. “Are these real?” she asked.

The boys and I paused, looking to each other. “They are,” Onyx replied carefully.

She immediately reached for the paper we were all hoping she’d get to last. She read the headline out loud. “The Massacre. A Town in Mourning . . . Holy shit . . .”

I shifted anxiously on my feet, waiting for her reaction when she pieced it together.

“The date on this is November eighteen twenty-three. Is that even possible? Were their printing presses back then?”

Wolf answered, taking a small step closer. “Ash Grove was one of only about two hundred newspapers in America at that time. So yes, it’s real.”

“Wow, I feel like I shouldn’t be touching this, like it should be in a museum or something.” She squinted her eyes as she carefully unfolded the paper, revealing the photo on the front. We all cringed. I was sure the guys were cringing from our wardrobe; the caps and suspenders weren’t our best looks. I was cringing for my crime. Our crime. “It says the town blamed . . . … The Halloween Boys for the massacre on Halloween . . . almost the entire town slaughtered in cold blood at the hands of the three men.” She brought the paper closer to her face. “The names are so small I can barely read them . . . and this photo—” She stopped, and I could see the way her throat tightened. I felt the budding blossom of her tangy fear. “They look exactly like you guys—”