He nods in agreement. “Stonehenge for me.”
“Fucking hell.” Rita sighs and presses the gun against Uncle Gio’s head. “I’ll have to do it myself. Two for two.”
The gunshot echoes across the room. No. No. Donny’s screaming, but the scene remains frozen as blood drips down onto the floor. Gio’s shirt is covered in red, and Rita falls forward, her lifeless body crumpling to the ground.
Uncle Gio shifts from side to side and watches his vengeful sister’s brains stain the wood floors.
“Told ya this place is haunted,” Jenny says flatly.
Before the other men can react, two more deafening pops fill the air, and they fall, their confused expressions still on their faces as the light leaves their eyes. I freeze, waiting for more bullets to take our lives too.
In the back of the room, the pile of clothes moves again. But this time my brain makes the connection…
First of all, I need glasses, because what was a blurry mess of nondescript clothes is actually a man with fabric draped around him, sweatshirts, blankets, and pants cocooning him. The clothes topple over as he stands, the gun in his hand still smoking. His beard hasn’t been shaved in years, and his eyes shift wildly between us.
He takes a few steps forward, at first toward us, but pauses and turns the forgotten chair right side up.
Jenny speaks first. “Thank you very much.” She says it with the same sweet gratitude as a waiter bringing her an unexpected refill on her drink, not with the awe of someone saving our lives.
The man grunts and coughs. His whole body lurches forward as he spasms. When the fit ends, he rights himself and says, “Sorry, I have dust allergies."
It’s like I can hear Donny say, “Well maybe don’t live in an abandoned house.” But his mouth is shut, and he scoots over to the side of the room as a trail of blood leaves my aunt’s body and drips toward him. It’s been life and death here for the last ten minutes, and he’s worried about getting his pants dirty.
I ask, “Are you going to hurt us?”
The man raises an eyebrow. “From my experience, the people who've been kidnapped and tied up aren’t the bad guys.” He stops in front of Jenny, and my stomach tightens. What’s he going to do with her? He digs through his pocket and pulls out a knife. I twist against my restraints. “Besides, this one brought my family food a few days ago.” He steps behind her, cuts her zip ties, and then frees my family one by one. “I’m a former Hunter trying to live off the grid with my family while I cope with my PTSD.”
He continues to talk to Gio as I check myself for injuries. “Hunter, huh? You knew Alana King?”
The man laughs. “There’s no way in hell that woman is going out in a car shooting. That chick has better plot armor than a character in the Fast and Furious franchise.”
Donny mumbles, “Great movies.”
I struggle to my feet and rush to Jenny, checking her for damage. Her wrists are red and raw from the plastic digging into her skin, and her cheek is red from the sucker punch, but overall, she seems okay. But there’s something in her eyes that I don’t like at all. It’s not trauma from the near-death experience. “Are you disappointed?” I ask.
Her lower lip juts out. “I thought this place was haunted.”
I press my forehead to hers. “Baby, you’re safe, that's what matters.”
She steps away and crosses her arms. “You don’t understand. One of my hyperfixations was wrong… That super fucks with my head.”
She’s right, I don’t understand.
But our new friend pauses and whips around to her. “Oh, this place is definitely haunted.” His brown eyes go wide, his jaw tight, and as he speaks, the chair he fixed moments earlier, topples over. On its own.
Jenny lights up like she’s been given a Christmas gift. “Thank you, Mr. Ghost. I hope you have a lovely day.” I blink at her a few times. “What? Just because he’s a ghost doesn’t mean every second of his existence has to be shitty. I genuinely hope he has a good day.”
She’s the best kind of chaos.
But Donny throws his hands up and yells, “Nope nope nope. I’m out.”
Gio steps over his sister. “What about them? Obviously, cleaning is in order. We can send a crew.”
But our new friend shrugs. “There’s an incinerator downstairs. I’ll take care of it.”
“We don’t like leaving a debt unpaid. What’s your price?” I ask with my Mafia boss voice.
But once again, it’s Jenny who speaks up. “Do you need a job with flexible hours, lots of physical activity, and your co-workers are animals? Plus, there’s healthcare for you and your family.”
