CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN #2
Manuel hissed and winced, but the brush against the injury snapped him from his trance. Had he been in shock? “I’m fine, Willa,” he squeezed out, removing some of his weight from me, but not all of it, I noted. “Just a graze.”
All that grief and pain solidified into rage. My eyes blazed, landing on the chief. “You monster!”
He waved his weapon. “I’ve only used three bullets, but your boyfriend can take a lot more holes before he becomes useless as leverage. Keep pissing me off.”
I bit my tongue so hard that the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.
“That’s what I thought.” Pierce lowered his firearm a fraction. “Now don’t get any bright ideas. You saw how fast I can move, and I never miss.”
Willa.
Goosebumps crawled over my arms. The ghost wanted something right now, but he’d gotten us into this mess. We might have had half a chance if we’d stuck to Manuel’s plan.
No, I projected back. The situation sat on a hair trigger. I needed to focus.
“Now that that’s settled, let’s talk.”
Okay, talking was good. Talking bought time. It also meant we weren’t being shot. I’d take both.
How far could Veritas be? Were they having trouble tracking us with the spotty signal?
I edged in front of Manuel, and Pierce flashed a condescending smile.
“W-What do you want to discuss?” I asked, keeping my tone open and neutral.
“What the fuck do you think I want to discuss? The weather?” He stomped a foot in our direction then forced himself to stop. Was he trying to keep distance between us because he didn’t want to lose control like last time and kill me before he got answers?
I could definitely live with that.
Pierce gathered his anger and plastered on a thin veneer of calm. “Tell me how you did it.”
Asking for clarification again at this point would tick him off. “I already—”
Manuel nudged me from behind, cutting off my initial denial. He’d also realized we needed to buy time.
Which would gain the most? Maintaining my stance that I hadn’t killed Ben or pretending I had?
The chief could want more details if I faked being the murderer.
He could also see black and shoot us dead in a fit of rage.
Squaring my shoulders, I lifted my chin, staring up at the man who currently held all the cards. “I didn’t kill Ben, but I might know who did.”
The pistol wavered a fraction before springing back up, setting me in the sights. “No, that’s a lie!”
Honestly, Pierce’s reactions baffled me.
There was surveillance footage of me strapped into a hospital bed at the time of Ben’s death, as well as the following days leading up to it.
I’d been there involuntarily. It wasn’t as if I could just waltz out on a whim, sabotage my boyfriend’s truck, and return in time for chocolate pudding.
There had to be something very wrong with this man to cling so hard to his delusions.
“You called someone and arranged it while you were at Vedault. You had to!”
“They didn’t give me access to phones. I wasn’t on a leisurely vacation. George Orten mandated my time there, remember?”
Manuel stiffened at the mention of his mom’s fiancé, but he remained silent. His good hand closed around my arm, as if he planned to yank the second things turned for the worst.
“Who else would have known where Ben was?” Pierce demanded.
“You knew where he’d be—going to see you—so you called someone…
Maybe the boy you’re trying so hard to protect?
Was that it? In your psycho mind, you’d finished with Ben and were ready to spread your legs for the next new thing, but too bad for Ben, because if you can’t have him, no one should have him? Huh? Is that it?”
“No!” Nausea spiked in my stomach until I was all but choking my words out past the tears. “I loved Ben! I would never do anything to hurt him. How are you so twisted? It’s sick!”
Manuel’s grip bruised, but his attention was elsewhere.
Pierce popped. “You all fucking lie! Every last one of you! Tell me how you did it!”
You all?
“I didn’t do it!” I yelled back.
“Did you pay someone to do it?”
“No!”
“Hire a contractor off the dark web?”
“The what?”
“No, you wouldn’t have the money to do that, so that leads us back to your boy toy.” His crazed gaze creeped eerily onto Manuel.
At least Pierce wasn’t just misogynistic. He was an equal opportunity psychopath.
I attempted to block Manuel more, but Manuel’s hold on my bicep kept me locked in place.
The chilled sensation of cool water streamed through me.
Willa, the ghostly troublemaker called.
Not now, I thought.
My nerves buzzed stronger at the point of contact where Manuel’s and my skin touched. Even lacking extensive experience, the fact that the contact felt cooler rather than warmer was odd.
The ghost grew louder, insistent, sounding as if the person hovered to the right of us. No, listen, Willa. His eyes.
Assuming the disembodied voice wasn’t referring to Manuel, my gaze sharpened, flying up.
I paused, not having noticed it before because it’d been a little hard to focus on much besides the gun being discharged and waved around like a sparkling, deadly baton, but the prompt yanked my attention away from the scary weapon and onto the chief’s face.
A small, soft gasp escaped—the only reaction I allowed myself.
Black tendrils twisted and writhed from his eyes.
It wasn’t natural. The wrong, discordant nature of it sickened me to my soul.
The tentacle-like wisps of pure evil were a dead ringer for what I’d seen on the mayor that’d terrified me so badly.
Pierce clocked me staring, and a wash of realization settled over his features.
His expression twisted into an unnatural, horrifying caricature of a grin.
“Oh, look, Willa’s finally coming into her own.
You want to play?” The chief’s voice sounded different—layered, duo-toned…
possessed. “Well, I suppose if you’re already onto me, there’s no point in hiding. ”
Ben’s dad, or whatever possessed him, tilted its head from one side to the other, so far that it nearly snapped the man’s neck both times, as if it didn’t understand the delicate nature of the human body.
He took a single deep breath, drawing himself even taller. His eyes flashed open, displaying solid black orbs—inhuman ones. “Time for some fun.”
And then, all hell broke loose.