Ghost (The Halloween Boys #1) (67)

“Okay,” she agreed softly.

After a few moments, I got up to light the candles and fetch her water. When I returned, she’d unfortunately dressed in her shirt and panties and sat cross-legged on my bed. She pensively took sips of water as I lounged next to her, my shoulders relaxing at just having her near me. It sure beat sitting under a tree in the cold and bird shit all night. “Tell me about your childhood,” she said.

I opened one eye. “Are you the therapist now?”

“Funny. But really, I don’t know much about you, and it feels like you know everything about me.”

Folding my palms behind my head, I closed my eyes. It wasn’t something I thought of often. “I grew up on a farm not too far from here. My father was a hardworking drunk. I never could do anything right around him. My mother was a devout Catholic and dragged me to church every mass, every holiday. It was one of the only places I didn’t have to plow with the horses, or reap with our godawful sickle, or feed the cattle, so as a boy up to no good, I liked it. When I got older, I liked it for other reasons. The thought of salvation and higher beings and all that.”

“What do you like about that?” she asked, curiosity tanging my tongue.

I shrugged a shoulder. “I guess I always had an interest in the supernatural. I like the Bible’s stories.”

Even if they were about me burning in hellfire for eternity, some of them were nice.

“Any brothers or sisters?”

“Seven.”

“Seven?” she asked in shock.

I smiled. “Seven of each.”

“Holy shit. You’re one of fifteen kids? Where are they all now?”

My ribs tightened in remembrance. “They all died a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she rubbed at the condensation on the outside of the glass. “I always wished I had siblings. I guess it’s good I didn’t because my mom could barely care for herself, much less me. But I always thought it would be fun to have someone to go through life with like that.” She paused before continuing. “When did you meet Onyx and Wolfgang?”

“We all met as boys. We grew up together, climbing trees, chasing stray cats, all the mischievous things boys do, we did.”

“You guys do seem like brothers.”

“We are. And we added Judas in there at some point too. You’ll meet him soon.”

“Thanks for stopping me from leaving,” she whispered. “And for accepting me for who I am . . . and what I’ve done.”

I opened my eyes to take in her gentle gaze. “I’m the killer, Blythe, not you. You defended yourself from a monster. I am the monster.”

She swallowed. “You really murder people? Like, regularly?”

“As often as I can.”

“Why?”

I struggled between telling her too little and too much. “It’s a . . . compulsion.”

“Did you ever want to kill me?”

I raised an eyebrow, and the corner of my mouth lifted. “Only with pleasure.”

She giggled and my heart warmed. “You’re well on your way. That was . . . I didn’t know it could feel like that.”

“High praise if you’ve been with women. They’re hard to outdo.”

She shrugged. “I was just a teenager messing around. I’ve never had anything serious.”

As she snuggled up to me in the candlelight, I pulled her to my chest. “How is it you’re not more afraid of me?”

“Because I’ve been upstairs in Mr. Moore’s house. Remind me to take you sometime so you’ll have nightmares too. It’s worse than any costume I’ve seen at Hallows, and there’s some creepy characters there.”

I chuckled. “Oh? Who’s creepy?”

“This guy with skeleton face paint following me . . .” She sat up on her elbow and peered at me. “Would you happen to know anything about him? They call him Ghost.”

I could have admitted it all right then and there, but . . . I didn’t like doing anything the way I was supposed to. Where was the fun in that? “He sounds like an absolute prick, but I can take you to Hallows if you want. I don’t want you to miss it if you were planning to go.”

She nuzzled back into my embrace. “No, I want to just sleep tonight. Is that okay?”

“More than okay.”

And she slept. Her pink lips parted slightly as I watched every breath.

All the while I locked in the rage in my chest that somewhere, right then, something hunted her. Something hunted her and it wasn’t the goddamn ghoul. It lied to us, either out of its need for chaos or because it knew something. I’d find out. And I’d burn this town to the ground to find the motherfucker who was after Blythe.

I’d done it once before, and I’d do it again.

I’d burn the world for her.





CHAPTER 25





Blythe





HIDE AND SEEK





It was easier to tell a hero from villain when the stakes were only life or death. Everything in between gets harder.

Maggie Stiefvater





A bead of sweat rolled between my breasts, my chest glistening with the joy of dancing my ass off. The band tonight were pirates, and the energy they brought to the crowd was palpable. I found myself pulled into a dance with a group of people wearing deer antlers and black, furry goat masks. Anywhere else, any other time, the scene would have been absurd, but I didn’t care. The deer-woman and I twirled, holding hands, until a goat-man cut in and danced with me until I was panting for breath. He didn’t speak when I thanked him, but he made a flourishing bow. I vowed to find them again later. I liked them.