Disbelief flashes in Cain’s eyes. He lets go of me to cover his wound—a last-ditch attempt to stop the bleeding. It’s futile, though. He mumbles something that resembles “You cunt!” but I can’t be sure because, in the next second, his head bends at an unnatural angle. He falls first on his knees, then on his side with a loud thump.
I don’t know how, but I can feel his soul slipping away. It’s like a ball of pure energy calling out to me. But it’s tainted…corrupt and as black as pitch. I don’t dwell on it, though. Ignoring the red-hot pain bursting from my every nerve ending, I hop over his lifeless body and scramble to get to Emily. When I reach her, her chest isn’t moving. At all. So, I drop into a crouch and place two fingers under her nose. I heave out a relieved sigh when her exhale whispers against my skin. Thank fuck!
“Emily,” I call out her name as I take off my belt to make a tourniquet.
Her fingers twitch. She opens her eyes slowly. It takes a few seconds for her to fully come back to reality, and when she does, she lets out a string of curses when I tighten the belt above the gunshot wound. “Did you get it out?”
“Yeah,” I reply, inspecting her chest. The black vines stopped spreading, which gives me hope that we might make it out beforethe poison gets to her heart.
A manic laugh belts out of her. “You look like Carrie.”
I shudder in revulsion. “Oh, I wish it was pig blood.”
Emily flicks her gaze over my shoulder, where Cain is lying in a puddle of blood on the cement floor. “You killed him,” she states the obvious. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy the psycho is dead, but aren’t you going to suffer the consequences?”
“I didn’t have much of a choice. It was either kill or be killed.” I sigh. “Let’s hope no one knows about this tunnel.”
I push up and stride toward the elevator to take my phone. The screen is cracked and useless, but at least the flashlight is still on. So I slide it back into its place in the front pocket of my pants. Then I help Emily get up, crooking her uninjured arm around my shoulders again. We get into the elevator. I press my hand on the button for it to go down, but nothing happens.
“This is old as fuck. Kind of funny we managed to escape that dipshit just to possibly die in a stuck elevator,” she says with a bitter laugh. The sound gets swallowed by a loud screech as the elevator starts descending. It’s shaking so badly that my teeth chatter. I throw another look at the corridor.
And find myself staring right into Cain’s open eyes.
25
Iris
On instinct, I swipe a dagger and flick it at his head. Cain’s form ripples and it flies right through him. A relieved chuckle bubbles up my throat. He’s a fucking ghost.
“What the hell is happening?” Emily shrieks.
I can’t answer her because Cain’s spirit rushes at us, clearly not realizing he’s dead yet. Believe it or not, I now have tiny packets of salt on me at all times. So, I take one out of the back pocket of my pants, rip it open with my teeth, and throw the salt in the air at him. His eyes bulge out of his head when static takes over. There’s a bright light, followed by a pop as he disappears.
I hope you never find peace, motherfucker, I tell him in my mind.
“What the? Was that salt?” Emily inquires.
“Yeah.”
She throws me a suspicious sidelong glance. “Um, why’d you do all that?”
“It’s a long story,” I mumble. “Basically, I can see ghosts. And Cain suddenly appeared in front of us. I didn’t realize he was a spirit at first because it’s pretty new—the seeing ghosts. Hence me throwing the dagger at him. And yeah, now I have to keep salt on me at all times because spirits are kinda crazy.”
“Well, that’s um…I don’t know what to say to that.”
“Trust me, I’ve been there more times than I would like to admit,” I agree.
The elevator finally stops to a screeching halt that jostles our balance. Grunting, I support both of our weights so we don’t topple over. Now that the adrenaline crash is starting to settle in, my body feels like one giant bruise.
“How are you feeling? Are you cold?” I ask while shuffling out with Emily attached to me. Dusty, cold air and the musty smell of mildew enhance the creepiness of the narrow corridor in front of us.
“Wolf shifters have a higher body temperature. Besides, whatever the fuck that piece of shit injected me with made my insides burn, so the air in here actually feels nice. Aside from the fetid smell.” She gags. “What the fuck died in here?”
We get our answer when a multitude of rats and roaches scurry to get out of our way, their clicking reverberating in the vast space. We shudder at the same time. “I hate rats. But I despise roaches,” I mutter as I take in the fist-size insects scampering on the grimy walls. I can’t wait to get out of this fucking tunnel.
We continue hobbling through the pitch-black darkness. My phone’s flashlight doesn’t provide much light, but at least we can see in front of our feet. The only sounds are theclick, click, clicks, our heavy breaths, and the occasionalsplashas we trek through portions with puddles.
Emily breaks the strained silence after about fifteen minutes. “Why did you save me?”
