Chapter 23
23
Sonny
I t’s nearly three in the morning and sleep hasn’t found me yet, despite the exhaustion weighing me down.
The others have been asleep for hours. Evidently, my racing mind is more powerful than physical fatigue. We each took turns quickly washing ourselves off in the shower after Raze left, careful not to take too much hot water before the next person got a chance to bathe. A scalding hot bath would have been preferable for my aching bones and numb toes, but there will be time for that later.
I’m trying to decide whether maybe sleep has taken me under when a glowing figure appears at the edge of my bed. It starts off dim, then slowly brightens and morphs into a human-like form, just as Finley had done in the dungeons. This one is different from Finley, though. Smaller, and slightly lighter in color.
It’s a little boy.
Not just any little boy, I realize.
It’s Bane Whitlock.
“You’re in my parent’s bed,” he greets, pointing his finger directly at my lying form.
“A-am I?” I stutter out, sitting up on my elbows.
I try to keep my movements slow as my mind desperately fights against the fear of speaking to a ghost. At least when Finley came, I thought he was fake.
The realization that this is truly the spirit of a dead little boy sends chills down my spine.
“You’re the nightmare girl.” He moves closer, rounding the foot of the bed to stand at my side.
“Nightmare girl?” I repeat, horrified. What could make a ghost think I’m the nightmare?
“That’s what Raze calls you,” he explains, keeping his gaze tied to the part of my blanket that he’s fidgeting with instead of making eye contact.
Of course, the ridiculous nickname Raze uses. Little Nightmare. I don’t know why I’m so embarrassed to find his brother even knows about it.
“Do you talk to him often?” I ask conversationally, in hopes it will make him feel more comfortable.
He shakes his head as a bug randomly appears in his hands and begins crawling around his skin. I fight the urge to scream or scoot away. “I try to talk to him, but he doesn’t ever answer me,” he admits sadly.
“Maybe he doesn’t know you’re there,” I suggest.
Bane doesn’t respond. He’s too distracted by the beetle making its way up and down his arm. Instead of prying, I take the opportunity to sit up and get a better look at him.
The similarities between him and Raze are astounding. They could be twins. I’m sure they were mistaken for it as kids. Except where it’s clear that Raze carries a heavy emotional load on his shoulders, Bane appears to be free of everything. He’s in his own world, unconcerned with anything happening outside of it. He feels sweet and innocent.
Raze is terrifying.
Perhaps that’s how all spirits are. Although, Finley sure had a lot more attitude.
My eyes land back on the beetle, and I realize I’ve seen it before. In the tattoo across Raze’s chest.
I point to it, smiling as I ask, “What do you have there?”
Bane closes his hand and the beetle immediately disappears. “Nothing,” he rushes out, and the action is so childlike, I want to laugh.
Instead, I tilt my head. “Hey, you don’t have to hide it from me.”
“Raze says no one wants to look at nasty old bugs.” He rocks on his heels and blinks rapidly. “Or he used to say that.”
I make a show of rolling my eyes and scoffing. “Well, he’s obviously wrong. I’ve never seen a beetle that beautiful before.”
Bane smiles, then opens his hand to reveal the beetle again. “Your mom tried to save me,” he randomly tells me in an even tone, as if death doesn’t faze him in the slightest. The mention of my mother has my heart dropping into my stomach, though.
It’s another reminder of how we’re all tied together through this.
“Did she?” I carefully ask. I don’t want to push too hard talking about his death and scare him away. I’ve already seen the vision. There’s not much else for me to pry about.
“Yes, but she couldn’t. It made her very sad.”
I frown at that. What an odd little boy? “I’m sure that was hard to experience.”
“My death made a lot of people very sad,” he goes on as if I hadn’t spoken. “Especially Raze. He thinks it’s his fault. That’s why I still hang out with him, even though he ignores me. I want him to know it’s okay.”
“That’s very nice of you.”
His eyebrows shoot up as he looks directly into my eyes for the first time, his voice rising excitedly. “But now he has you and you can tell him for me, right?”
“Um,” I hesitate, thinking of how awkward it would be to tell Raze—the man who nearly got me killed and who I told only hours ago that I’d never trust him again—that his dead brother says hello. I hate the way his expression falls at my lack of response. Finally, I sigh and nod my head.
“Yeah, I think I can do that.”
“You can trust him,” he insists.
Can spirits read minds? God, how awful would that be? I already have to be careful around Raze.
“I can hear your thoughts when you keep the passageway open,” he replies.
“How do I close it?”
He shrugs, then goes on. “You don’t have to be afraid of Raze. He won’t hurt you. He’s just protective.”
How do I argue without informing him of everything his brother has already done? Is he aware of what he does for the Syndicate?
I shut the thought down before he can hear it, then force a smile. “I’ll make sure he knows you’re around.”
Bane flexes his fingers, opening and closing his hands as he holds his arms up to allow the beetle to crawl up one, across his chest, and down the other.
“I like you, Nightmare Girl.” The smile he gives me reaches his eyes, lighting them up and revealing a dimple in his left cheek. Before I can respond, he flickers out and disappears, draping my room in darkness once again.
“I like you too, Bane,” I whisper, then lay back against my pillow and fall asleep thinking of two little boys playing in the woods.