My dad’s journal.
“We don’t give a shit about some diary full of cryptic nonsense. But if you want it back, we think there should be a reward for it.”
“One of your men isn’t enough?” I scoffed, motioning to a dazed Vincent, who was so drugged out, he stumbled around on his feet.
“Money is always first in the creed of thieves.” The man, who had taken lead, pulled something out of his pocket, making both Ash and Warwick step forward, ready to discharge.
A flame ignited the darkness. I flinched, and lead dropped into my stomach. The man held a burning torch near the bag. A spark. One flame and everything my father wrote would be in embers. The last bit I had of him would be gone.
He touched the flame to the bag. “Better decide if it’s worth it now.”
“No!” I jolted, rage surging through me. Bile coated my stomach, fear surging my adrenaline, sending shock waves out into the atmosphere like a boom. Electricity zapped in the air, crackling and hissing. The healed earth over the graves fractured and splintered, the ground rumbling.
The horses bucked, whinnying and thrashing, feeling the spirits probably as much as I did.
“What the fuck?” I heard a Hound yell, but everything felt far away as more spirits rushed for me, while my focus was on the one about to scorch my last bit of hope into cinders.
“Get them.”The order spilled from me without a thought, surging over the spirits.
They reacted to my order. Some rushed for the man starting to burn my pack while dozens of others moved to the other men, scratching and clawing at their bodies, frightening the hell out of the horses.
The men let out terrified screams, batting at their arms and legs, feeling the assault but not able to see what it was.
“What the fuck? What is on me? Get it off!” The alternate leader yelled, the bag dropping from his grip, the torch hitting the damp grass with a hiss as it sputtered out. He clamored for his horse, getting on, his heels kicking into the animal. It galloped off, tearing across the dirt. The other men followed, racing back through the graveyard, their screams and howls trailing after them. The horse they brought for Vincent took off with its buddies, neighing and flicking its head.
I wanted to see the men burn.
“Kovacs.” I heard Warwick say my name, but my attention was still following the group through the cemetery.
“Brexley.”His shadow muttered deeply in my ear, my name feeling like the richest whiskey pouring over me. Arms wrapped around me, drawing me into his body though he wasn’t there. “Breathe, sotet démonom.”He snapped me out of my trance, breaking the connection with the ghosts. My lungs heaved for oxygen, my bones trembling with fatigue. I bent over my legs, sucking in gulps of air.
What the hell just happened?
My muscles twitched and tingled with adrenaline, recognizing a crash would be hitting me soon. Crickets buzzed in the air, echoing the silence around us.
“Brex?” Ash said my name quiet and low.
Slowly, I straightened, peering at them.
“What the fuck was that?” Ash stared at me with awe. Warwick was emotionless but for tightness in his shoulders and neck.
My mouth wouldn’t move, my body shaking.
“Whatever that was... it came from you.” Ash shook his head. “I felt it.”
A horse neighing in the night snapped our heads to the sound.
“We have to move.” Warwick shoved Vincent to the ground. The prisoner groaned, not trying to get up. Warwick strode over to the backpack, grabbing it, then made his way to me, slipping it on my shoulders, his knuckles brushing my cheek.“You all right?”he asked privately.
Nodding, I felt a sudden ease, like my energy was restoring.Wait. I blinked, my eyes darting up to his smirk, realizing that was exactly what he was doing. Intentionally.
Sharing energy wasn’t something new, but this felt different. Easy. Instinctual. So many other times, we stumbled into it or awkwardly used it against each other. This was like breathing air. The innate response to protect ourselves as well as each other. The link no longer saw a difference.
“Hey, guys?” Ash whistled. “Let’s go.”
“Better?” Warwick rumbled.
“Yes.” My breath hitched at the intensity and intimacy of the moment. Then it was gone. Warwick stomped over to his motorcycle, climbing on. Ash hopped on his.
