Chapter Three
If there’s one thing I hate the most about being tied to Phantom, it’s the fact that I can’t leave the room unless he does.
It’s the downside of being tethered to him like I am.
But thankfully, he decides to leave his room today and meander into the bar, which gives me more legroom to flit about and seek out the others.
They’re the lucky ones. Their unfinished business is that they pledged their lives to the club; therefore, they’ll never leave, not as long as the Elm Street Riders still take to the streets.
That gives them free rein to explore everything on club grounds without snapping backwards like a rubber band every time a person decides to walk out of the room.
My hatred of the lowly rubber band has grown exponentially over the past few months.
Phantom saunters into the room and plops down at a table with Krampus and Pinhead, gratefully taking the beer that Pinhead scoots his way. The man drinks more now than he ever did in the past.
“You look like shit,” Pinhead observes, smirking just a tad as his lips meet the tip of the bottle and he downs half of it.
“Eve kept you up again last night?” He waggles his eyebrows moronically, knowing damn well nothing good happened between us last night.
He passed out on one side of the bed; I stared up at the ceiling on the other.
Unfortunately, ghosts don’t sleep. No matter how many times I close my eyes and try, it just doesn’t happen.
“You two were there. You saw what happened. Do you think a man can sleep after something like that?”
Krampus chuckles. The man never chuckles. At least not while I was alive. Maybe he’s broken today? “Must suck to be cock-blocked by a ghost.”
Phantom sighs. “I’m just exhausted, Krampus. I already live with the guilt of losing her the way I did, so why does she have to keep fucking with me like this?”
“You must’ve given her some good cock,” Pinhead offers. “No bitch would stick around this long if you sucked in bed.”
“The man fucks like a supervillain in the bedroom, Pinny. You should take notes. Last time you took your girl for a spin, she had to finish herself off.” My eyes flutter in Phantom’s direction, remembering our first glorious night together. It’s something I’ll never forget.
A familiar face glowers in our direction from the other side of the room, encased by shadows like always. His one good eye pierces me with a stern glare, one that has me rolling my eyes.
“Got something to say, One-Eyed Grampy?”
He crooks a bended finger my way, motioning for me to join him.
Great, time for another one of his goddamn lectures.
Reluctantly, I leave Phantom’s side, moving into the booth across from the old biker, hating that he has this kind of control over me.
As the eldest ghost in the building, I have to come when he calls me.
Why? I don’t know. But it’s just something I have to do.
My ethereal body won’t let me do anything else.
“Heard what you did last night,” he grumps, his crotchety old voice commanding the room. “Didn’t I tell you not to fuck with the Annies?”
“She touched my man.”
“She’s alive,” he counters. “You’re fucking dead.”
“Don’t remind me,” I exclaim, exhaling in frustration. “Listen, Krueger, I know you founded this club with your son and his two friends, but just because you died in some tragic accident to save your son’s life, doesn’t mean you get to ride in here and boss me around like you own me.”
Krueger’s eyes narrow, but only the one not cloudy and vacant, pins me in place.
The man might be a ghost, but he’s a fucking powerful one that doesn’t even have to move to command you.
I think that strength followed him into the afterlife, because people respected the fuck out of him before he died, and now I have to respect him too.
But how could I not? The man was a legend within these walls, and you don’t fuck with legends.
I barely knew Krueger before he passed, but there’s a creepy old picture of him up on the wall, his memorial meant to be a reminder for those that come after him about what being loyal to the club really means.
“Cross a rider, end up dead. Stay faithful to the club ‘til the very end.” It’s the club’s one and only motto, and that shit’s posted right under his picture.
A constant memento of their fearless leader, who took a bullet for his son.
He was trying to stop the war between the Raging Misfits and the Elm Street Riders, but things got a little crazy, and his dumbass son got trigger-happy, nailing a Misfits’ prospect right in the noodle.
I guess their main guy fired back, but Krueger jumped in, taking a bullet right to the chest as the old man, blind but still strong as fuck, prevented Drac from being hit.
The Misfits lost a stupid prospect that day, but we lost our leader, and his sacrifice was what kept the peace between the clubs for now.
Neither club wanted shit to end in bloodshed like it did, but after Drac took that kid’s head off and Krueger was hit, the Misfits retreated, like the little rats they are.
Phantom was there, and he told me all of this after a night of ravenous sex, but getting to know Krueger these past few months makes me feel just as invested.
Shit, the guy’s practically my ghost pappy now.
His withered fingers drum on the table as an Annie passes by. She nervously looks our way, but barely acknowledges our existence. Most don’t believe in ghosts, no matter how many bottles I throw at them.
“You’re getting stronger every day, Eve,” he chastises.
“You need to be wary of what you do, or you may take it too far and get yourself stuck, or worse...” He never fully explains what worse actually is.
I’m dead. He’s dead. We’re tethered here by unfinished business, yet there’s something worse than not being able to hold your man and fuck him?
I’m a sexually deprived poltergeist with a hellacious sexual appetite, and no one to feed me.
“Aww, I’m so glad you worry about me, Ghost Pappy. But don’t worry, I got this shit handled.” I pat his hand, but the old man doesn’t smile. I’m not sure he even has teeth.
Damien picks that exact moment to float into the room, his charismatic smile instantly brightening when he sees me.
The prick’s been after me ever since my soul left my body, trying to beg me to fuck him and make his afterlife exciting again.
He forgets that I’m Phantom’s girl. God, why did the club’s so-called pretty boy have to be the last person to kick the bucket before me?
He shifts into the seat next to me, then lays an unwanted arm around my shoulders, smirking when I try to move away. There’s a hierarchy among ghosts in this place, and I, unfortunately, am at the bottom of the totem pole. His arm will stay there whether I like it or not.
“Hey, Dollface, how’s the afterlife treating you?”
“Better than you,” I counter, pressing my finger through his eye socket.
You can see Phantom through the gaping hole in his head.
This is why boys shouldn’t play with guns.
Accidents happen, and Damien’s a prime example of why gun safety is important, especially when drunk.
The asshole actually thought he could play Russian Roulette with a pistol, not realizing you need a revolver for that game.
The man was beautiful but also dense as fuck.
No wonder the other Annies mourned his death for weeks.
He was stupid enough to give himself to every girl that opened her legs, making them feel like they were his special girl.
I wonder if they realize he’s just sitting here watching them, getting his ghostly jollies off every time they decide to fuck one of his brothers.
The man takes voyeurism to extreme levels…
“Admit it, Eve. You still think I’m pretty.”
“Pretty holey,” I say, laughing. “I should start calling you Swiss Cheese.”
He pouts, but only for a second. “So, you called us here, Krueger. What’s up?”
The old man’s face falls as he lets out a sigh. “It’s almost Halloween,” he says, groaning as if his non-existent brittle bones creak beneath his skin. “I want you both to be on your best behavior for the next couple of weeks.”
“I’m always on my best behavior,” Damien counters, winking in my direction. “Unless Eve’s around, of course. The woman can corrupt me anytime she wants.”
“In your dreams, Swiss Cheese.” Damien’s been adamant that we had a thing going on before I died, but I don’t remember any of it.
I just remember him driving me crazy with his constant flirting, and how mad Phantom got because of it.
I kind of enjoyed making Phantom jealous; it showed me he still cared.
But Damien, ugh, there’s just something about him that irks me.
I’m not sure what to call it. Repulsion?
Regurgitation? The only thing that man attracts is my upchuck factor.
Can you believe that the dead bastard says we kissed a few times before I died? He’s delusional!
If ghosts could brush their teeth, I’d down seven bottles of mouthwash and a few tubes of toothpaste before I ever thought about kissing him.
He winks again, learning how to control his good eye and still make it look sexy. How can a ghost have so much charisma and still turn me off the way he does?
“Focus, Eve. This is important. Halloween is coming up, and that’s the one day of the year that can either make or break a ghost.”
Damien and I share a confused look.
“What do you mean, Krueger?” Damien questions.
Krueger’s white eye stares through us, almost like he’s trying to search what’s left of our souls for something.
“As a ghost, your abilities to do things can be heightened during the month of October. The closer you get to Halloween, the more powerful you’ll get.
” He turns to Damien. “That means your ability to possess will get stronger.” He then looks at me.
“You might even graduate to a full apparition if you tried.”
My jaw drops. “Wait! You can possess people?”
Damien grins. “Been doing it for a while, sweetheart. My sexual appetite didn’t die when I did; it got worse.”
“So, you can just possess someone whenever you want?”
He shrugs. “Only if I really want to, and only if they’re in the middle of having sex.”
“Who the fuck have you possessed?”
He laughs. “Not Phantom, if that’s what you’re asking?”
I’m not sure why the idea of Damien possessing Phantom gives me the heebie-jeebies, but it does. I don’t like the idea of anyone being involved in his sex life, let alone the Ghostly Casanova.
“However…” Damien starts. “As much as you’ll hate to hear this, you and I, well, we have fucked before.”
“Eww, are you serious?”
There’s that fucking one-eyed wink again. “Not all members are as good in bed as they seem.”
Krueger holds up a hand, silencing us both. “I don’t have time for your bickering today. I’m asking you both to be on your best behavior. No possessing. No temper tantrums. Just fucking exist for the next few weeks, so we can all get through Halloween without crossing over.”
Damien gives him a curious look. “I thought crossing over is exactly what we’re supposed to be working towards? Fulfilling unfinished business and all that bullshit.”
Krueger stares at him, but remains silent.
“Oh, come on, Ghost Pappy. Don’t go silent on us now. What’s so wrong with crossing over?”
Krueger strokes his chin, then grabs for the glass in front of him. We can’t actually drink or eat anything, but sometimes, pretending helps us get through the monotony of being a ghost day in and day out.
“There’s nothing wrong with crossing over if you lived a good life.
” He attempts to take a drink, the liquid passing through his body and puddling on the floor beneath his feet.
“But none of us have pure souls here, Eve. Especially you. Any hope of going to the good place is out of the question for a girl like you.”
My eyebrow raises in question. “What do you mean by a girl like me?”
Damien chuckles. “He means a slut, Evie baby. Heaven has no place for whores like you.”
“Fuck off, Damien. I’m not a slut.”
He smirks. “Ah, Evie, but you were. And there’s not enough room in Heaven for legs that go as wide as yours.”
He perfectly deflects my punch, laughing hysterically when my fists of fury fly right through his chest.
“Ooooh, I fucking hate it when you do that,” I growl in frustration.
His giggles get even louder when I slump against the back of the seat and his arm goes around me again.
One of Damien’s special talents is making himself completely invisible to all, even fellow ghosts.
Sometimes it really sucks to be the low woman on the ghostly totem pole.
Krueger pins us both in place with his steely gaze. “Just stay out of trouble. Both of you, but specifically you, Eve.”
“God, you talk about me like I’m some kind of monster, Ghost Pappy. I’m literally not that bad.”
His crooked finger points over my shoulder. “Tell that to her…”
Glancing over my shoulder, I can’t help but smile when I see the Little Annie from last night, cowering in the corner, shaking uncontrollably as she mumbles something about hating ghosts.
“She’ll get over it.”
“Heed my warning, Eve. Stay out of trouble. Your literal afterlife depends on it.”
Hasn’t he realized by now that Eve listens to no one? She marches to the beat of her own drum.
Tum. Tum. Tum.