Chapter 27
The unfortunate reality of hiring young people is that they tend to bring their hormones to work.
I crumple to the floor, ripping the goggles off my face and choking as ectoplasm pours out of my mouth in stringy globs. I hear someone rush into the apartment, hear their sharp intake of breath as they take in the ruined hallway.
Nico skids around the corner, into the living room, and relief floods me so suddenly at the sight of him that it leaves me dizzy.
Benji’s right behind him, already pulling equipment from a bag. Nico’s across the room in three strides, dropping to his knees in front of me with controlled urgency.
“Eden,” he says, his voice low and commanding. “What happened?”
I snap my head toward Griffin, and Benji’s already there, kneeling beside him. What if he’s dead? What if I wasn’t fast enough and Griffin’s dead because I froze for half a second too long?
“Eyes on me.” Nico’s hand catches my chin, forcing my face back to his.
I focus on those green eyes. On the gray ring around his irises that makes them look even brighter under the goggles he’s still wearing.
His gaze sweeps over my face. “Where are you hurt?”
“Griffin—” I try to twist toward Griffin again, but Nico’s grip tightens just enough to keep me in place.
“Answer my fucking questions,” Nico says. “Where. Are. You. Hurt?”
The command in his tone cuts through my panic. I force myself to think past the adrenaline screaming through my veins.
“My head,” I say. “I, uh, hit it on the floor when he slammed me down.”
He pulls a penlight out of his pocket, steadying me as he shines the light inward at each eye.
“Your pupils are responding,” he says. “We can give you a more thorough check at the house. Anything else?”
“Ectoplasm.” I cough again, more residue dripping from my mouth. I hate how weak I sound.
His jaw tightens, a muscle jumping in his cheek, but his voice stays level. “How much?”
“I don’t know. A lot?” I’m so tired of being scared. So tired of feeling like I can’t protect the people around me. “Would you stop interrogating me and go help Griffin? He’s the one who almost died!”
Nico’s eyes hold mine for one more second before he releases my chin and moves to Griffin.
He kneels beside Griffin’s crumpled form, feeling for his pulse. Griffin groans, and I’m so relieved that a laugh slips out.
“What happened?” Nico asks. He checks Griffin’s pupils, too.
“Morrow had him up on the ceiling,” I say, my words tumbling over each other. “I shot him with a salt round, which hit Griffin, and he fell. I caught his prosthetic. Did I get him anywhere else?”
Nico examines the torn fabric, pulling it aside to reveal the gleaming metal beneath. “Most of the shot hit metal. He’ll have some bruising where the leg connects, but nothing’s broken.”
My throat tightens. “It was—he was on the ceiling and the ghost was in front of him, and I didn’t have a choice—”
“Stop.” Nico’s voice cuts through my spiral. “You did what you had to do.”
Not before I ran. If I’d just stayed, if I’d been faster or smarter or not completely useless, maybe Griffin wouldn’t be unconscious right now.
“I thought drinking salt water was supposed to protect us,” I say, hating how my voice cracks on the last word.
“It did,” Nico says, his hands moving over Griffin’s ribs. “Without it, we’d be scraping Griffin off the ceiling.”
What a comforting thought.
Mathis huddles in the corner, rocking back and forth with his arms wrapped around his knees. He’s been that way since he woke up, after Nico and Benji found us.
I crawl to him. He’s having full-body tremors.
“Hey,” I say, crouching in front of him.
Mathis’s eyes are fixed on one spot across the room.
I try to see if he’s injured. He’s cradling one arm, but it’s not visibly broken.
Tears cut shimmering tracks down his face.
There’s an elliptical mark on his cheek, complete with individual tooth impressions from where I bit him.
A drop of blood pools in one of the impressions.
I feel horrible knowing I hurt Mathis, but is it bad that I’m a little proud I could bite that hard?
“I know that was scary,” I continue, keeping my voice low and steady the way Mom used to when I’d wake up from nightmares. “But it’s gone now. Can you tell me your name?”
His rocking slows. “Ed.”
“Hey, Ed. I’m Eden.” I lay a gentle hand on his arm. “We’re going to help you.”
Behind me, I hear Nico talking into his phone, coordinating with Donny and DJ. I focus on Ed. On the fact that his hands have unclenched just slightly from where they’re gripping his knees.
“What was that thing?” Ed asks. I rub my ear because I can still hear the scratching I heard coming from the sink, lingering like tinnitus.
I reach for something I read in the field guide, the thing on the edge of my memory about how to approach someone who just escaped possession.
Donny wrote it’s best not to give them too much information up front, because the truth leads to more questions, and the most important thing to do for them at the beginning is to make them feel safe.
I don’t exactly know how to phrase this, so it takes me a couple of seconds to settle on: “Something evil that was controlling you, but it can’t hurt you anymore.”
Nico appears at my shoulder, his knee at the same level as my head.
“Donny and DJ are five minutes out,” he says, then his eyes go to Ed. “Our colleagues will take you to the hospital. Can you stand?”
“I-I… think so,” Ed says meekly.
I help Ed to his feet, keeping a hand on his elbow until I’m sure he’s steady.
“We need to get you home,” Nico tells me. “That ectoplasm is going to take root soon, and when it does, you and Griffin will wish you were dead.”
Wonderful.
Nico slides an arm under Griffin’s shoulders. Griffin’s head lolls forward, a fresh stream of ectoplasm dripping from his nose onto the floor. I watch Nico adjust his grip, pulling Griffin upright with an efficiency that makes it look easy even though Griffin’s basically deadweight right now.
“Can you make it down the stairs?” Nico asks me.
I nod, even though my legs feel like they’re made of rubber. “Yeah.”
“Good,” he says. “Stay behind me.”
He moves toward the door, Griffin sagging against him.
I hadn’t noticed just how much taller Nico is than Griffin until now.
Nico shifts Griffin’s weight onto one shoulder like Griffin weighs nothing, which is objectively insane given that Griffin has at least seventy pounds and a good four inches on me.
Ed leans on me more than I expected as we move into the building’s hallway, his steps unsteady and too big. I guide him after Nico, trying to project a calm I absolutely do not feel.
A door opens two apartments down, and a woman in a bathrobe pokes her head out, her eyes going wide. “What happened? I heard gunshots—”
Nico doesn’t even break stride. He pulls a badge from his pocket with his free hand, flashing it just long enough for her to see the seal. “Police. Everything’s under control. Please return to your apartment.”
The woman’s mouth opens, then closes. She retreats inside, and I hear her deadbolt engage.
The casual authority in Nico’s voice does deeply inappropriate things to my nervous system. Why is competence under pressure the sexiest thing ever? I need to get a grip.
Nico jerks his chin at me, a clear command to come here.
I ease Ed toward Benji, who takes over supporting him, and I hurry to catch up with Nico before he starts down the stairs with Griffin.
I reach out to take Griffin’s other arm to help Nico, but it’s clear that even going down the stairs, Nico has it handled.
“Did you see which way Morrow went?” Nico asks, keeping his voice low enough that only I can hear as we descend the echoing stairwell.
“No.” I grip the railing. “Do you think he’s still around?”
“Doubt it.” Nico adjusts his grip as Griffin slumps further against him. “Probably looking for a new host. He won’t come back to Mathis now that he knows we’re onto him.”
“Will he switch to someone else on our list?”
“It’s possible,” Nico says. “Or he could change things up to throw us off.”
Great. So we lost our only lead and nearly got ourselves killed for nothing. If Morrow changes up the type of host or where he’s killing, will we be able to catch him at all?
The van idles at the curb, its back doors already open. Nico maneuvers Griffin inside and lays him across the metal floor, where equipment has been hastily pushed aside. Griffin groans, curling onto his side. I climb in and sit on the floor next to him, my back against the wall.
DJ’s Jeep screeches to a stop behind us. Donny jumps out before it’s even fully stopped, and both he and DJ sprint toward Ed. Donny flashes a badge, and Ed gets into the Jeep with them, his face blank and confused.
Nico climbs in after me and slams the doors. He snatches a radio from the wall mount, the scanner crackling to life with static and voices.
“Real cops are two minutes out,” he says, his brows knit in focus as he monitors the feed. “Someone called in the gunshots. Donny and DJ need to move fast.”
Benji throws himself into the driver’s seat, and the van lurches forward. I grab the wall to keep from sliding into Nico.
Griffin retches beside me, his body convulsing as more ectoplasm drips from his nose.
“What can I do?” Watching Griffin suffer is making my pulse stumble and trip, and I need to do something.
“Get in an actual seat and put your seatbelt on.” Nico digs through a metal case. “You need to rest.”
“I’m fine.” I shift closer to Griffin, ignoring the way my stomach is starting to churn. His eyes are unfocused and glazed over like he’s not fully seeing either of us. “Tell me what to do.”
Nico’s eyes meet mine, and I’m sure he’s weighing whether I’m going to be useful or get in the way. “Help me prop him up against the wall. Then tell me where the ghost touched him.”