Ghost (The Halloween Boys #1) (82)

I gripped the arm of the couch so hard it groaned beneath me.

Onyx crossed him arms. “But why? Do demons skillfully choose targets, or do they just catch a scent and get . . . fixated?”

“Could be either. Some of us are more chaotic than others.” Then my exchange with the ghoul popped into my mind. “The ghoul said similar things. I ignored it at the time, thinking he was just fucking with us, but he said something about his master wanting her.”

“Whoever this motherfucker is, he’s putting in a lot of effort to get at a regular human girl.”

“Unless she isn’t a regular human girl,” Onyx mused.

Irritation burned in my throat. “It doesn’t matter what she is or isn’t. What matters is finding out who this is because he’ll send more next time, and they’ll be smarter, faster. I left her in the woods on her own. I was being reckless. Anything could have happened. We keep underestimating this shit. We can stand against anything. She can’t.”

“So we watch her. One of us stays with her at all times,” Wolf said. “I’ll double my wolves’ patrols. Maybe you can talk to the vampires?”

Onyx snorted. “Right, yeah, I’ll just walk up the Vince and ask him to help a half breed who won’t join their coven. That’ll go over well. Plus, they never get involved in fights that aren’t theirs. You know that. But . . . there’s another coven that could help. Who’s shown interest in assisting.”

“No,” I answered.

Wolf leveled a stare at me and turned on the game system. “Either they do their own shit and we have no clue what they're up to, or you humble yourself for once in your life and ask Marcelene for help.”

A groan left my throat. “She hates me.”

“Then you know she has good judgment.” Onyx elbowed me in the ribs and took the controller off the coffee table.

I knew they were right as our serious talk died down into race cars and pixels on the screen.

I’d do anything for Blythe.

Even ask for help from her.

The crone I’d killed.





CHAPTER 31





Blythe





AREN’T HUMAN GIRLS SUPPOSED TO PICK THE VAMPIRE?





By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.

William Shakespeare





My phone buzzed on the nightstand, pulling me from sleep. Sunlight filtered into the room, casting a long dark shadow of Raven, who was asleep on the windowpane. Ravens slept fully upright, huh.

I sat up, stifling my groan. My entire body ached. I grabbed my phone and my heart pulsed in my chest. Come out, come out, Little Ghost. I miss you.

Ames. Ghost.

Pulling the sheets up to my chin, I felt the ache between my thighs. I had graveyard sex with a demon last night.

And then was chased by, like, a hundred of them.

I saw a big wolf.

Onyx has . . . fire.

My bird friend is an actual bird sleeping on my window.

And I was pretty sure the shop owner was a real-life witch.

Yet the only thing I wanted to think about was how I lost my virginity. And wanted to do it again.

My thumbs tapped out a reply. Was last night real or a dream?

I double texted. Are you all okay?

The gray dots on my screen bounced as his response appeared. It was as real as you want it to be. And we are fine. How are you?

I answered honestly. Sore.

I can fix that . . . if you come here.

Blood rushed to my center, reminding me I was wet already. My demon was beckoning me. It should have terrified me. Any other girl in the horror movie would be beside herself with fear. As someone who’d lived most of her life in fear, it was shocking I wasn’t more afraid. But I’d always been drawn to dark things, from my personal style to arts and interests. And I’d just learned it was all real. Not only real, but handsomely terrifying and powerful. But he was also Ames. Just James Cove somewhere deep inside him. Maybe he was a killer, and maybe the huge demon of night-twisted muscle was who he was, but he was more too. And I wanted to unravel all the pieces of him.

If whatever entity that was pursuing me let me, that is.

The witches want to talk to me, I replied.

His dots appeared and disappeared before he finally sent: Ditch them. Crotchety old bats.

I like bats.

I’ll make you a bouquet of them.

His dark response made me smile, and I hugged my Benny Bat plush to my heart and typed: I’ll find you this afternoon . . . Ghost.

His message was instant. And I’ll be waiting all day, Little Ghost.

A clatter across the room made me jump. Visions jumped into my mind of the ghastly, strained faces of the demons . . . my stepfather’s gray body being puppeteered by something or someone. I shivered, glancing over at a still dozing Raven. Pulling myself out of bed, I hissed at my aching legs—and other areas. I hobbled over to the source of the clatter and opened the supply closet door. A basket of blueberry muffins, a decanter of what looked like iced coffee, a plate of sausages, and a bottle of pain reliever capsules sat neatly on the shelf. I pushed on the back of the closet door and looked inside. No trap door or opening to be found . . . In fact, the closet was detached from the wall and ceiling. “Magic muffins,” I said to myself, scooping the loot into my arms. It thumped onto the small breakfast table, jolting Raven awake. He stretched his wings and squawked. Grabbing dishes from the sink, I filled a bowl of water, put a muffin on a plate, and sat it on the space across from me. “Breakfast?”