Ghost (The Halloween Boys #1) (43)
The Fly
Hushed voices pulled me from sleep, but somehow, I had the good sense to keep my eyes closed. I knew I was in the backseat of my car because I was lying on top of piles of my hoodies, costumes, and jeans. “I don’t get why you’re being so pissy about this. You didn’t want to tell her anyway. You got your wish.”
A low guttural sound vibrated. “Making an agreement and going against it isn’t something a pack does, Dragon.”
Dragon?
Memories were like misshapen splotches in my mind. I remembered my waffle breakfast with the guys, and then the sexy as hell ride with Ames, browsing the old library . . . and then I got so tired . . .
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I just panicked. I’m not a were—”
Onyx grunted like something whacked him. Silence followed us to our destination and my car slowed. I assumed we were outside my apartment. Pretending to only then wake up, I yawned and stretched. “Wow, I didn’t mean to fall asleep like that,” I said, trying to not show how unnerved I felt. This was the second time I’d blacked out around these guys and it was starting to feel . . . odd.
“Ah, no worries. Onyx and his books are pretty damn boring. I could use a nap myself.” Wolf grinned, opening my door and helping me out.
“Oh,” I said in surprise. “We’re going to . . . church?”
Onyx chuckled. “Ready to confess your sins, Blythe?”
My chest tightened. No, I was very much not ready to confess the sin that followed me everywhere I went. He must have noticed my anxiety because he put a gentle palm between my shoulder blades. “I’m only teasing.” Calm trickled down my awareness like water on a windowpane as I looked into his deep green eyes. Onyx was tall, dark, and handsome in a debonair and stylish way. The way he spoke always left me wondering if he was being truthful or only charming. He smirked, as if reading my thoughts, and I blushed. Just then, the rumble of a motorcycle engine pulled up behind us. Ames strode over, adjusting his glasses. “I hope you had a nice rest. Sorry Onyx bored you to tears. He tends to do that.”
“You guys should take this comedy show on the road, really,” Onyx replied, stepping over dewy pumpkins.
Ames gestured toward the ruby-red door of Lamb’s Blood Church.
“Support group?” I asked, swerving around a pumpkin. They still littered every inch of the lawn and trailed up the narrow stone steps.
“Not exactly,” he replied. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
I followed them up the stairs and down a corridor. Goose pimples dotted my arms. “All these crucifixes and bleeding lamb paintings are creeping me out,” I whispered to Ames, who’d lagged behind with me.
“Really? I love them. I considered becoming a priest a very long time ago.”
“You’re kidding. I didn’t know you were religious. Why didn’t you?”
He only looked ahead, the darkness of the dusty shadows revealing nothing of his expression. “Sometimes God’s not the one who comes knocking.”
We finally reached a tiny wooden stairwell leading up. After scaling what felt like several floors, we reached the top. A splintered door opened to reveal an attic. Red light illuminated every surface, filtering in from stained-glass windows. “Welcome to my humble home,” Ames said with an easy bow. “Please make yourself comfortable.”
It took me a moment to take in my surroundings. A small kitchenette and a boxy Dolmeire refrigerator sat in the corner nearest the entrance, while the rest of the room sprawled out like a studio apartment. A worn leather sofa on a red Persian rug was positioned under the stained glass and across from a clunky, old television. Only a single lightbulb dangled from the middle of the room with a tiny, beaded chain attached. A queen-sized bed with black silk sheets sat in the farthest corner, and another twin-sized bed was against the wall across the way. I was suddenly glad I didn’t agree to staying with Ames a few nights ago. Not that I judged him for his older furnishings and living in the attic of a weird church, but there were no walls for privacy. There would be no way I could sleep knowing his bed was right across from mine. “It’s not fancy,” he said, and I realized he was watching me. Suddenly I felt like the rudest person in the world.
“It’s lovely, really. I just wasn’t expecting, you know—”
Wolf interrupted from the sofa. “You weren’t expecting to be hanging out with the ghost that rattles chains in the church attic, huh?”
Ames shot his friend a glare and I choked on a laugh. “Something like that.”
Onyx replied, pulling a beer from the fridge. “You’re all heathen sinners. I quite like being in the Lord’s house.”
Ames and Wolf chuckled. I joined them in the living area as Onyx passed me a bottle of stout ale. “How long have you lived here?” I asked, taking a sip. I strolled over to the stained glass. From a tiny crack in the red, I could see to the pumpkin-cluttered ground far below.
“Several years. Father Joseph and I have an . . . agreement.”
“A mutually beneficial understanding, I’d say,” Onyx added.
Wolf switched on the black and white TV and it buzzed to life. A controller nudged my elbow, and I turned to see him cross-legged on the ground like a little kid. Well, a not so little kid. A very large man who even sitting came up to my waist. I took the rectangle from his hand before a laugh emerged from my throat. “You have an old school Nintendo? I haven’t played one of these since I was a little kid.”