Page 13

TWELVE

GHOSTS

ZZZ—DIGGY GRAVES

DOMINIC

I can’t explain it—the feeling of being watched. As strange as it sounds, today it felt like Calista was close by, and who knows, maybe she was. But I looked around and didn’t see a single fucking sign of her anywhere. I’m not sure what happened, but when our fathers came to talk to us last night, it was to inform us that the last man to be with Calista was found murdered, and she wasn’t anywhere in sight. Being the cold, heartless bastards they are, they enlisted our help to try and find her, all so they could keep her for their satisfaction, hidden from her parents.

We had to agree to get them off our backs, but we’ll never help them hurt her even more than they already have—not in a million years.

Working in the shop today, I check over the appointment book to see how many tattoos I have booked for today, and luckily, it’s not many. I can’t concentrate when I know that Cali is out in the big bad world all alone, with no fucking clue of the danger that’s lurking around.

My stomach is in fucking knots, but I force myself to breathe through the anxiety twisting in my gut. The bell just above the door chimes, making me look up in time to see Killian strolling in, a joint tucked loosely between his lips. He passes the other artist here for the day, coming straight to my office in the back.

“When are you off?” he asks bluntly, no smile to greet me like usual.

“I have a couple of appointments, but I should be out by five.” I look at him curiously, his eyes bloodshot, flicking back and forth. “Why, what’s up?”

He sighs, lowering his voice as he mutters, “I think I saw Cali at the race the other night.”

“You sure you weren’t drunk or high and just seeing shit?”

“I was fucking sober, Dom,” he spits. “I was racing, remember?”

I shake my head, unwilling to believe him. Because if it really was Calista, wouldn't she have come to talk to us?

* * *

By the time the end of the day rolls around, the thoughts filling my head about Calista have grown much worse. I leave the shop, locking the door behind me, and begin the five-minute walk back to my apartment.

Walking in the door, an unfamiliar smell rushes right over to me, causing me to pause just behind the door as soon as I lock it.

What the fuck is that?

I question as I sweep the apartment for signs of anything out of place. It’s not until I get to the living room that I notice a small piece of paper on the coffee table, right beside a baggie of coke that we left out. Confused, I grab the note and read it over carefully, trying to make sense of the list of names jotted down. By the time I get to the last one, my hands shake, reading it aloud, noticing the strikethrough through the name... as if it had been crossed off: Mr. Brown.

Calista, she was here...

I can feel the panic rising in my throat as I realize that Cali was in our apartment. But why? And what was the significance of the list of names? My mind races as I try to piece together the puzzle, and I can’t shake the feeling that something terrible is about to happen.

And then it hits me as I read over the names for the twentieth time; every name belongs to a man or woman that has harmed her, and me and the guys fathers are at the top of it, just below her parents.

Still in shock, I collapse on the couch, pulling out my dope to mix up a shot. By the time Kill and Ash come stumbling in the door, my head is slumped and my eyes are shut, stuck in a heavy nod from the overflow of drugs rushing through me.

“You need Narcan again, Dom?” Ash asks, rushing over to me, shaking me awake.

“No, I’m just really fucking high,” I mumble, my voice raspy, drool dripping from the corner of my lips.

Handing Kill the note, his face goes ghost white as all color drains from his usually tanned body.

“Wh… What the fuck is this?” he asks, even though I can tell he already knows the answer.

“Calista was here—in our apartment—I’m assuming. She left that for us as some sort of sign or some shit.” I shrug, lighting a cigarette to top off my high.

Ash sits and packs a little crack at the top of his pipe, pressing it onto the brillo tucked snugly down the center. Hitting it, he holds the smoke in, rips the note out of Kill’s hand, and begins coughing harshly as he reads what we’ve already read.

“You think she knows we were sent to find her?” he asks, raising his brow in concern.

I shake my head, not knowing much. “I’m not sure, but I can guarantee that we haven’t seen the last of her.”

“I knew I fucking saw her the other night at the race.” Kill shakes his head, speaking through a thick cloud of smoke that spills from his mouth as he cuts up a few thick lines of coke.

As we get high, the three of us try to process the information, still feeling lost about what’s truly going on.

Can Cali be stalking us because she’s afraid that we’ll hurt her? Or is it because she wants her revenge for the shit our fathers made us do?