Chapter 2
CHAPTER
TWO
Ghost
Most fought against the consumption of darkness, and long ago, I was one of them.
For some, darkness brought isolation, a certain type of erasure that left a man forgotten. Inky, opaque shadows that echoed with finality and a sense of permanence that there was no coming back from.
Personally, I thought of it as surrender, letting go of everything I lived and breathed to be true.
That man was a stranger to me, and the one I was today was at home in the darkness.
Instead of battling against it, I embraced its honesty and let it swallow me whole.
You’d be surprised at the things a man could learn by being invisible.
After all, the masks people wear slip when they think no one’s looking.
I was always watching, observing quietly from obscurity to cut through the bullshit and get right to the truth. I refused to go back to believing a beautiful lie.
The ugly truth? Life is cruel and people crueler.
Low laughter punctuated my thoughts as two men slammed their bodies into a tall chain link fence, jolting the ice-coated metal and making it clatter.
The man trying to scale its eight-foot height slipped, and the paper bag he’d been clutching dropped to the ground, a victim of the vain attempt at keeping his grip.
The little bit of footing he gained was put to the test when the men below started rattling the fence anew, the frosty metal wobbling and groaning under the pressure.
The climber slipped, a pained sound echoing through the dark alley while he dangled helplessly above his attackers. From the shadows, I saw his limbs shake, practically smelled the exhaustion in his panting breaths.
It was hardly the first mugging I’d witnessed in Buffalo, but it was rare that someone fought when they were clearly outmatched. Probably why I stopped to take in the show, curious if the kid would get away.
The nice part of me hoped he made it. The realistic part of me knew he’d never.
With a grunt, one of the men leaped up, grabbing the kid by the ankle and yanking. He gave way instantly and barreled into the cold, hard ground with a sharp slap.
The two men converged on him while their friend stood by, pointing a flashlight like he was some kind of lighting expert. Ironic, really, they weren’t scared to beat up on someone half their size, but the dark stole their confidence.
Amateurs.
The body on the ground bowed upward when they yanked at the front of his coat. Something in my stomach tightened as I watched his blond head flop back in submission.
Wake up, kid. Wake up.
“Pockets are empty,” one of the men spat.
“Inside his coat,” another suggested.
The man holding him up like a rucksack dropped him back to the ground, roughly grabbing the zipper on his coat and yanking it apart.
That seemed to snap some fight back into the blond, and he let out a yell and swung his arm, fist bouncing off the closest man’s cheek.
“You little prick!” he grunted, drawing back a meaty paw.
I straightened off the wall, staring directly at the violence. Looking away from something bad didn’t mean it didn’t happen.
The hit was hard and fueled by anger, forcing his small, pale face into the pavement with a scrape. A light whimper rippled through the alley, the sound so poignant it disturbed the stillness of the black shrouding me.
I knew not to get involved. Getting involved in too much around Buffalo was a good way to draw attention. A ghost like me was better off invisible.
That notion vanished like breath on glass, and the part of me I kept contained surfaced, swift and unassuming… a ghost finding its body.
I shed the darkness like a snake shed its skin, silently materializing behind the three men ripping cash out of his coat like they had every right.
They had no right.
No right to touch what wasn’t theirs.
No right to hurt someone who’d been innocent enough to try and get away.
I grabbed the one who punched him first, yanking him off his feet, and let him float there just long enough to realize he was no longer in control before slamming him into the pavement and crouching low, swiping out a leg to drop his friend as well.
The first guy was already up and swinging, and I ducked to deliver a blow of my own.
Grunting, he staggered back, disappearing into the darkest part of the alley and smacking into a brick wall.
His friends came at me from both sides, and I grabbed them by their coats and rammed them together, skulls rattling beneath skin.
One dropped to the ground, the beam of the flashlight shooting toward the sky like some sort of pathetic call for help.
Shaking it off, the other came back for more.
My boot landed dead center in his abdomen, making him hunch over with a gasp.
While he was doubled over, I locked my arm around his neck, cutting off his air supply.
He kicked his legs and slapped my arm pathetically before his breath turned into a wheeze and he slumped, unconscious.
The second I dropped him, the first guy rushed out of the dark, brandishing a blade. I didn’t even bother to suppress my eye roll. If I didn’t tell him what an idiot he was, how would he know?
Fun fact: Did you know that most people who try to defend themselves with a knife usually end up with it used against them?
No?
Consider this your education.
I grabbed his wrist with the first swipe and twisted, the satisfying snap of bones music to my ears. His holler of pain was silenced with a groan when I caught the dropped knife out of the air to bury it in his side in one graceful move.
The thug looked down, incredulousness and pain marring his previously arrogant face.
Listen, a life of crime wasn’t for everyone. He should probably consider a career change.
He was still standing there, hunched over in disbelief, hands hovering around the knife sticking out of his side. “Wh-who are you?” he rasped.
I stepped close, not worried in the least that he would identify me. It was dark, and I was all in black with a hat and mask over my face. Not that he was looking at me anyway. He was too busy worrying about his boo-boo.
“You should worry about yourself right now, don’t you think?” I gave him a half-hearted shove, and he fell over with a groan.
“Watch out!” a strained voice behind me yelled, and I spun to see the guy who’d originally gone down from the little bump to the head lunging at me.
Before I could react, the blond plowed into him from the side, both going down in a tangle of limbs.
Did he just try to protect me?
The big guy got the upper hand instantly, rolling the smaller man under him, and delivered a blow. Red tinged my vision when the body on the ground didn’t move or raise his arms in defense as the man raised his fist a second time.
Growling, I lunged, feeling his hair rip from the scalp when I knotted in my fingers and yanked him away. He shouted and kicked his feet, so I slammed his head into the pavement.
His body jerked and then went still. Tugging the black mask below my chin, I spit on him before straightening and pulling a cigarette and matchbox from the inside of my leather jacket. Sliding the cig between my lips, I flicked the end of a match over the thick silver ring I always wore.
The instant spark gave way to flame, and I inhaled the brief sting of bitter tobacco followed by the slightly acrid warmth funneled down my throat. Exhaling, I watched the cloud of gray blend quietly with the night.
Lips clamped on the filter, the glowing tip dangled as I bent down to check the status of the three men sprawled around my feet.
All three still had pulses, though the one with the knife wound should probably get some help sooner rather than later.
But that wasn’t my problem now, was it? It was dark, and I was fast, never standing still long enough for them to get a look at me.
So leaving them here to deal with their own cleanup was the way to go.
Taking another drag off the cig, I walked over to stare down at the blond.
His coat was open, pockets turned inside out.
His face was already bruising, cheek smeared with blood.
I could see the rise and fall of his chest, so I knew he was alive, just unconscious.
A puff of smoke filled the air around me as I shook my head.
One fall and two hits was all it took to knock him out.
Pipsqueak.
As I finished my smoke, I wandered over to the bag he’d been clutching as if his life depended on it, nudging the trampled contents with my shoe.
The scent of chili wafted upward, mixing with my nicotine. Frankly unbelieving, I bent down to see what else was in there. No way he’d been hanging on that hard to just food.
But it was just food. Busted cracker packets, leaking creamer cups, and part of a grilled cheese sandwich with the indent of a Nike.
Straightening, I dropped the butt of the cigarette onto the ground and snuffed it out with my shoe.
Picking it back up, I stuck it in my pocket. Like hell I’d leave behind my DNA.
Turning away, I relieved these assholes of the stolen cash and all the other money they had between them. It was really the least I could do.
Greedy bastards.
I shoved it all into the pocket of my leather jacket and turned back to the pipsqueak.
He kinda glowed like an angel, a spot of light in this otherwise dark space. Blond hair, pale skin, and a small face. Not even the blood and bruises could detract from his looks. Beautiful.
Who are you? I wondered even as I knew it didn’t matter.
One thing about me, though? I’m nosy. Even if it ain’t my business, it’s my business.
Taking advantage of his unzipped coat, I dug around in his pockets, looking for an ID.
Consider my interest piqued when there wasn’t one to be found.
Of course, I had to check his jeans, which, frankly, were threadbare.
No wonder his skin was nearly translucent.
He was severely underdressed for a Buffalo winter.
In the last pocket, my fingers brushed a card, and I tugged it free.
It was so dark that I couldn’t read it, so I carried it over and used the beam of the flashlight still pointing at the sky. At least it was useful for something.
It was a library card.
My man didn’t have a wallet, driver’s license, or any other form of ID, but he had a library card?
What a geek.
Not a pipsqueak—a pipgeek.
Ah, and the geek had a name. Garrett Redding.
Adjusting the mask over my face, I stuffed the card back in his pocket, zipped up the coat, and lifted him into my arms. He was light, alarmingly so, and it made me think about the trampled food. Maybe I shoulda broke some necks instead of just knocking them all out.
He stirred, and I glanced down, but his eyes were still closed.
“You’re safe now, Pip,” I whispered.
He stirred again, curling closer into my chest and burying his face in leather.
Tightening my arms around him, I slid easily back into the shadows, the darkness concealing us both.