Ghost (The Halloween Boys #1) (75)
“Put this one in the deepest, farthest spot and make sure it stays there. I want an example made. This is what happens when you think you can escape my Hell.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she replied with a swish of her trail, prancing into the graveyard as if she were doing nothing but chasing a ball of yarn.
“No respect, I swear to the Devil,” I muttered. “You know, familiars are supposed to worship their masters.”
“Oh, I guess I didn’t read the handbook, or I just don’t give a shit,” Cat replied just as the gate slammed shut.
Amusement replaced the spot where annoyance would typically be as I made my way through the woods. I could sense her, feel her with my smoke and darkness, her tender steps, the soft padding of the palm that was wrapped around my cock just moments ago. Now that was done, I could hunt down my Little Ghost and fuck her senseless on the forest floor.
Suddenly, static invaded my senses, high-pitched and drawling like a microphone off its wire. I stopped, tension crawling into my muscles as rage pressed down on my chest like a weight. This wasn’t like the damned. This was worse. I sensed it then. The demon. It was knowledgeable enough to know how to fuck with my abilities as my smoke thinned under the screech of energy. For some reason, he’d chosen to wear her stepfather’s skin, feasting on the fear it offered him. I felt them both: the skin, the demon.
I lost feeling and taste of her.
It was in the woods.
CHAPTER 28
Blythe
WILLOW’S GIFT
Life is made of so many partings welded together.
Charles Dickens
Every inch of my flesh shuddered in hyperawareness. Remnants of where he touched, the feel of his hands, the caress of his smoke . . . the way I stretched to take him in. Ghost was terrifying. Not the short, frail, and gangly depiction of a demon like I saw in church or in movies, he was monstrous in height and strength. Yet he was careful with me. He told me to leave to protect me from having more of him too soon . . . but he was wrong about what I could manage. Now he’d created a monster, and I felt insatiable with need. I was already aching for him to be inside me again. I wanted a better look at him, at his full form. I tugged on my dress, feeling the frigid night cling to me without his veracious warmth on top of me. I dipped a curious finger between where my thighs touched, feeling them slippery as I walked. Ebony coated my fingers. His cum was . . . unique.
I’d just lost my virginity to a demon.
My poor Catholic mother would be horrified.
And I wanted more. I wondered if his cum tasted like honey, the same as his kiss. Was he stalking me now? The thought sent a jolt of thrill through me. I wasn’t sure where I was going as I wove through brush, but finally, the space cleared into an area I’d never seen before. A stone bridge arched over a wide, shallow stream. It was then I noticed the blue-violet fog that had been accompanying me had thinned to near invisible. Did that mean he was near? My pulse quickened, and I considered waiting naked on the bridge for him . . . but instead, I chose to hide. Sliding ungracefully down the muddy bank, I carefully tiptoed across wet stones covered in rushing water. The sound of breaking branches reached my ears. Leaves crunched under something heavy, stalking slowly toward me. My heart jumped in my chest. Would he take me here, under the bridge?
A demon. A demon who’d killed his town . . .
And if he were truly this otherworldly thing, if demons existed, then were the others at Hallows Fest . . .
A flash of white light blinded me. I fell back, bracing myself against the curved, slimy underside of the bridge. A youthful giggle of multiple voices emanated from the translucent being. “You found me,” the willow spirit said. “You’re good at this game. Though I did give you a necklace that guided you to the place you needed to be.”
“Shh,” I answered, putting a finger to my lips. “Wait,” I whispered softly. “You’re really a spirit, aren’t you?”
The ribbon-like edges of the spirit fluttered on an invisible breeze. “I never said I wasn’t. Now to figure out what you are . . .” It angled its head before straightening. “Something draws near.”
I swallowed, my excitement rising. “You should go,” I urged. “I’m okay.”
The spirit floated backwards, it’s opal sheen glistening in the bright light of the moon. The heavy footsteps hit stone now, and I held my breath. “Evil searches for you, Tree Talker. It needs you.”
Ghost. “I know, but I’m safe—”
A rough voice clutched my whisper in my throat. “I can smell you, whore.”
My stepfather. His voice, somehow. How did he find me all the way out here? My blood ran cold as I looked to the willow spirit in panic. Wide, deep-set eyes surveyed me curiously. A delicate finger pressed to my lips, nodding as it sought my understanding. I nodded, too shocked to move. Its tone softened, as if he decided on a different approach. “You shouldn’t be hard to find . . .” The words were strained, as if speaking were a struggle. “Needed to tell you, your mother’s alive. We want you to come home so we can be a family again. She says she loves you, BB.”
My chest squeezed. My mother’s nickname for me. How could he know that? The spirit shook its head. I knew it was a lie. Whoever, whatever, this was wanted me to come out of my foxhole. Why it didn’t come down here and get me . . . I couldn’t be sure.