Page 6 of Hot Ghoul Summer (Pine Ridge Universe)

T heo Cross looks just like his older brother, but way more drunk and violent. I watch as he shreds his tires on a curb as he finishes a bottle of whiskey and throws the bottle out the window. It shatters on the surface of the hotel parking lot where Garmin is staying.

Well. Maybe I won’t have to get involved at all.

The hotel Garmin has picked is the seediest sort of truckstop. A gunshot heralds Theo’s arrival, and it doesn’t even come from the gun that’s tucked in his belt.

A glowing, smoking hellhound tears past me, flames pouring from his mouth.

“Stick around, guy! Might have another pick up for you in a few minutes,” I shout.

“Sounds good! Let me go get this guy to JH and I’ll be back,” a thick, growling voice calls back.

(Judgment Hall, in case you were wondering).

I follow Theo Cross into Gary Garmin’s grungy hotel room after he kicks it in, shoots off the security chain, and wrenches the door open. I’m invisible, a dark satisfaction washing over me as I observe Garmin cowering, his body black, blue, red, and swollen. He’s in no position to fight, and he immediately starts to plead, but Cross isn’t listening.

“You stabbed my brother.” Cross comes in with the gun waving and tears running down his face.

I guess Theo loved his big brother. Good for him.

“I didn’t!”

“You have his banking bag.”

“I—I—”

I frown. How did Gary get that? Slick little bastard. He must have doubled back to Nicky Cross’ car at some point—I didn’t think he would go back to the body.

Then again... He’s not entirely bright. But he’s smart enough to save his own neck.

“It wasn’t me! There was this thin guy with a black sweatshirt. He killed Nicky, I swear. I had the money to pay you guys back, I promise. The kid took it. He took my money—and Nicky’s money! He took it and—”

“Bull!” The butt of a pistol cracks down on Gary’s head, adding another spray of blood to the blackened eyes. “Both eyes—nose—hand? Nicky was beating you up ‘cause you didn’t have the money. You killed him, broke into his car, and took the bag with the night’s deposits. Our boys checked the car before the cops got to it, and the money and the bag were gone. No one else took it to the bank’s night drop.”

I guess Nicky owned some sort of business as a front, or maybe there’s good money in thuggery. Both, probably.

Gary whimpers and tries to back away, but he’s moving much slower. “It wasn’t me! It was the guy.”

“This is why I don’t believe you. And you’re too stupid to even ask yourself how I found you!” Theo doesn’t lower his weapon, but he pulls his phone from his pocket. A bright pink circle is flashing with white letters proclaiming, “Nicky’s Banking Bag.” “Tracer Tags. In case you lose your wallet, your purse—or your bag with that day’s deposits. Do you think my brother would have that much cash in his vehicle and not protect it? You were supposed to be his last stop, then the night drop, then home. You. Have. The. Bag.” Each word is punctuated by the gun shoving into Gary’s paunchy middle and broken ribs.

“I... I needed the money to get away from that guy.”

“There was no guy, and nothing you can say will make me believe that there was,” Theo shakes so violently that I’m tempted to go steady the gun. Or maybe the shaking will work in my favor. One more hole in Mr. Garmin would suit me just fine.

“Okay, I’m lying. I was trying to protect her, but I can tell you’re too smart for that. It’s out of my hands now.” Garmin puts his hands up and sighs.

“Her? A woman did this?”

“Martina. My stepdaughter. She loves her old man something fierce.”

“No!” I snarl, and my switchblade is suddenly in my hand, ready for work.

Theo pauses, blinking. “He was stabbed. Knives are women’s weapons...”

“Sexist as well as ugly,” I mutter.

“Exactly. I tried to stop her, I did, but... She saw Nicky coming at me on the pier, and she ran at him. Told him to leave her daddy alone, and he got rough with her—pushed her—and she came back like a wildcat. You know, I think she’s always had a little crush on me.”

If I vomit, it’ll probably alert them to my presence, invisible or not. I need to go over Gary Garmin’s scroll in much greater detail. I bet pathological liar is written on his list of worldly vices in big letters.

“So, your stupid little bitch killed my brother—and you just let her go?”

“I... I was afraid of her. She took out Nicky, and he wasn’t even beat up like me!”

“Well. The sins of the children can be visited on the father today,” Theo growls, and I hear the safety snap off.

“But I know where she is! I know where she is! 34 Silverlake Way in Erie!”

My stomach drops. My blade lengthens into a scythe. I’m going to have to kill them both.

“I’m sitting right here with you until I check that out—and if it’s true, I might let you go. But if you have any last messages you want me to tell your little girl, I’d pass them on now,” Theo taps a button on his phone screen, his heaving breaths perfuming the air with expensive secondhand whiskey fumes. “Because if I find her there... I’m not letting her go until she’s suffered. My brother was loved by everyone in his organization.”

“I doubt that,” I mutter, but I’m still in my ethereal state. No one notices.

“Yep. He was a great guy.” Gary wipes away a crocodile tear.

“Your little bitch is going to have a lot of very angry men who want her to pay for what she did to save your debt-ridden ass.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. She deserves it. Definitely.”

“Theo Cr—”

I never get to finish the name of the man whose scroll I’m after. Theo’s talking, but not to Gary Garmin.

“You hear that, boys? 34 Silverlake Way in Erie. Close by? Smart to keep around the perimeter of the lake, someone had to have seen something. If you see her, grab her—but I get to go first.”

He’s got an earpiece on. I didn’t notice it at first, but now I see it, a small beige insert that rests inside his ear. He must’ve pushed a button on the phone in his hand and someone answered—someone in his gang. Someone who could already be after Molly.

A sick wave crashes into me, making me turn back to my human-friendly form, just a pale, thin young man with curls that won’t settle and tired eyes that never lose their dark circles, no matter how long I sleep. I left Sera in charge. Sera can handle herself. The house is cloaked unless people have been told how to find it...

But I told Garmin. Garmin told Molly. I made it visible to her, but in my haste to leave this morning, or my haste to pull her in last night, did I get sloppy? Garmin was told the address of a protected dwelling by a Reaper. He passed it on—will that mean others can see it?

I sway on the spot, torn between staying to see Garmin and Cross’ interaction and getting home to protect Molly—just in case.

Oh, bugger it. In my line of work, “just in case” is a dead cert.

HOLDING THE CERBI’S leash is... weird. He is (they are?) a nice little dog—dogs?

Whatever I call him, walking behind him is adorable but surreal. His three little heads bobble in unison as he trots on short, stumpy legs. He keeps looking back at me and giving me three sweet doggy grins. I haven’t had a dog since Gary came into my life. His allergies were the reason my beloved collie, Cocoa, went to live with Aunt Sherry for the last years of her life, and nursing school meant no time for a dog.

If I get out of here alive, I’m getting a dog. No more waiting for life to start. It could end while you’re waiting—didn’t I see that enough in clinicals?

Moving cautiously, afraid that Toby is actually lurking somewhere close to play a game of cat-and-mouse with me, I make my way down the hall, heart going at 180 beats per minute. My legs are weak, and my hands are cold. Panic will do that.

I can’t be weak. Have to get out. Three Heads here might be my best chance. I’ll use him as a puppy shield to make my getaway. We trot down the stairs together.

The window in my room wouldn’t open, but the door at the front of the house opens easily. I wonder if it’s something to do with the dog, or was Sera inside at some point and left it unlocked?

This is too easy.

And when it’s too easy in the horror movies, that’s when it gets a whole lot worse.

I don’t have my keys. I don’t have my purse.

My heart is thudding so loud that I can’t even think. Go back inside? Run like hell to the neighbor’s house, or the gas station I passed a mile or two back?

“Hnhnnn!”

A triple whine breaks my concentration. The corgi-hellhound mix is straining on the leash and snapping at the air.

Moths. Fireflies. The lawn is full of them. The moths seem to be following Sera around the yard, her gentle glow attracting them like a porch light.

What was it Sera said about this dog? He likes to chase things. And if he bites something—or kills something—it turns into a ghost? Jesus Christ, I’d better not get bitten.

I drop the leash and move silently away, not daring to run, but walking fast, staying low.

“Musketeer! No! No, down, boys! Not the moths! No bugs! Bugs bad!”

I break into a blinding run and hear Sera’s startled cry as she realizes that the dog is with her and I’m not with the dog.

I know she can probably pop over in front of me in a split second, but I don’t care. I see headlights on the road near the house.

Salvation.

“ Help ! Help me!” I screech loud enough to wake Toby’s victims.

I fly past the mailbox and into the street where a speeding black SUV stops hard enough to send gravel flying into my arms and face. The tiny stings don’t slow me down.

The doors open and two men get out, looking around as they reach for me. “You have to help—”

“Get in!” One of them grabs my arm and begins to haul me to safety as I start to sob. I’m safe. I made it out of that house alive.

“What the fuck is that?”

The car revs into reverse, and I look through the windshield, expecting to see Sera.

My heart drops and a scream shudders out of my throat as I make out an enormous black-cloaked figure in the road, skull head covered in flames and his scythe swinging in a sweeping arc.

I suddenly feel hard fingers around my arm, and my body flies backwards, ass skidding and bouncing on the grass as the black SUV becomes airborne, slipping sideways and then flipping with two horrible, screeching thuds.

Sera is next to me, human face whiter than milk as she clutches my arm. “Are you okay? They almost got you.”

I almost got away.

Everything is numb. The fight goes out of me, and cold and horror set in.

Toby is suddenly before me, still something out of a nightmare. He points his arm, one bony finger like a spear aimed at my heart, and I hiccup down tears.

“No!” I shout once as I fly backwards, expecting to feel my bones crack as he hurls me into the side of the house or the glass of a window.

But I don’t feel that. I feel a firm softness. A mattress slams under my body as I gasp for breath.

I’m back in my prison, and I know that I’m not going to get another chance to escape. Not after that stunt.

It’s too much.

My body finally falls, stress taking me into unconsciousness.

“THEY’RE NOT DEAD.” That means I’m not in any additional trouble. I didn’t even have to fill out paperwork.

“But they could have died. All four. That would make it five, Toby. Five souls that you took because you wanted to.”

“ Needed to,” I correct without looking at her.

It’s late morning. Sera still sits with me on the front porch as we watch police direct the tow truck taking the bashed-in SUV away. From what I overhear, it’s headed to the police impound lot. The neighbors mill around, gawking, and filming with their phones. The police ask them what happened, but they never come our way. They can’t see us.

There were four men in the car. Three went to the hospital. One went straight into cuffs. I went into invisible mode and listened as the responding officers pulled a handful of outstanding warrants for each one.

“You need to go talk to her.” Sera is mad at me, but so what? I’m mad at her. She let Molly get out of the house and straight into danger. I’m not even going to mention the seven ghostly moths that are now making merry hell with their new tiny ghostly bodies, flitting in and out of the house through the walls and closed windows like glass and metal don’t exist.

“She’s out cold. Let her sleep. I’m not letting her go when she wakes up, either. Not until—”

“Until you kill Gary Garmin. Then Nicky Cross’ next in line? And his right-hand man? And then every thug in his gang? It has to end somewhere, Toby. It has to, because... because you’re my friend, and I care about you. Reaping is a hard and lonely game. I don’t want to do this without you around.” She reaches for my hand, and I relent. We squeeze fingers, and our hands fall.

I know what Sera is talking about. There are Rogue Reapers, the ones who began to like killing, or the ones who did what I’ve just done—taken a soul they chose for a reason of their own. It’s usually for a noble purpose at first. Save a life. Kill an evil man before he kills an innocent.

But it never stays that way. Then it’s killing the thugs picking on little old ladies, the bastards who were taking babies out of prams and selling them away from their grieving mothers... Oh, there are a million evil souls in this world who need to leave it.

“It’s not our job. That’s a different union. Different shift. You want to work the Hell side, Toby?”

I swallow. The souls of the damned are still collected with order, still on the rules and timelines of mortality. Rogue Reapers don’t respect those rules, either. “No.”

“You are a good man. A comforter. A helper. A guide.” Sera rises and looks at the lake. “I have to go soon. But I’m not going to be at peace unless you promise me you won’t kill Garmin. Promise me you’ll let Molly go.”

“I promise I’ll let Molly go as soon as she’s safe.”

“Toby.”

“By the end of my vacation. I promise.” I keep mum about the bastard ex-stepfather.

Sera doesn’t miss that, of course. She sighs heavily. “Once, in the heat of the moment, saving a life—it has happened to hundreds of Reapers. That’s why they have a form for it. But if you do it again—you’ll soon have a dark streak in your essence, and nothing will cure it. You’ll end up before the review board.”

I shrug. “She’s worth it.”

“Honey... She doesn’t even know you. She doesn’t even love you. She sure as hell doesn’t trust you.”

The words hurt. I say nothing.

“You’ve been alone for so, so long. Don’t you think... Do you think maybe you’re starting to let loneliness confuse you?”

What if she’s right?

“I gotta go.” Sera smooths her dress and looks at me. “Gladys Emmerhoff has to leave tomorrow night.”

“Gladys? What?” I shoot up, jaw slack. Gladys Emmerhoff has had three near-death experiences on my watch. She’s an incredibly ancient old lady with a dicky ticker who still lives alone at ninety-nine—mainly because she has no family to take care of her and insist she go into a home. She’s sharp as a tack, though. Doesn’t need looking after. What she ought to have is a valve replacement, but at ninety-nine, who would operate?

“I know she’s a special project of yours.”

“I have to be there.”

“But what about your houseguest? I don’t think I should babysit for you again.” Sera jerks her chin toward the upstairs windows.

I agree. I don’t even know if I should let her dog-sit at this rate, either.

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Toby—”

“I said, I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of everything, Sera. Thanks, love. You’d better go home. Tell your dad I said thanks for sparing you for the night.”

Sera leans forward and touches my forehead with her lips. “Please be okay.”

I smile up at her. “You’re one of the good ones, Ser.”