Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
GHOST
The Code: Rule #10
Feelings—and therefore, desires—will get you killed.
She looks like an angel when she’s sleeping.
In my years, I’ve found most people have disgusting sleeping expressions. All twisted up, slobbering, unhindered. And then there’s the snoring.
When I watch Brett sleep, I feel nothing but an intense desire to stick my cock inside her. She’s so perfect. Even the bear-like sounds coming from her lips are endearing, and I’m convinced this woman couldn’t do anything to make me dislike her.
And that is bad. Very, very bad.
I tilt my head, running the back of my ungloved index finger over her cheek. “I still can’t believe I can feel you,” I whisper, shutting my eyes as the electricity flows through me. “I will never be able to repay you for what you’ve done for me.” With all the willpower I can muster, I pull away from the dark-haired siren. “Although I will try with my very last dying breath.”
I want to cry out as the electricity fades, leaving me with this terrible nothingness. It’s becoming more difficult to part from Brett the longer I know her. The days seem impossibly long, and the nights I get to sit here at her side, just feeling her… they don’t last nearly long enough.
“Soon, darling,” I murmur, pausing at the door when her whimper pierces my ears. Like a man possessed, I turn on my heels and crouch at her head, watching the way her pretty face twists into a scowl. Her hand reaches out, and I let it make contact with my face, not daring to move, even as her fingertips curl beneath the edge.
I don’t move—not even when she pries that cool metal away from my skin. I don’t breathe as she exposes my face to the moonlight, nor when her delicate fingers press along the harsh panes of my cheekbones. And—I can’t fucking help it—I moan when her fingers slide over my lips.
Her breath hitches, and for one terrible moment, I’m afraid I’ve woken her. But then her fingers continue their curious exploration, and I breathe a deep sigh of relief, shutting my eyes as her fire lights my heart. Heat courses through my body, breathing life into parts of me I hadn’t realized were there, and I have to take my hand between my teeth to stop myself from doing something reckless—something like sinking them into her again.
All of a sudden, Brett’s mouth turns down and her lips part, letting several distressed mewls escape. Her hand clenches, causing her nails to dig into my cheek, and I groan, pushing into her grip.
“It’s okay, darling. I’m here,” I whisper, leaning in so there’s only centimeters between us. “I’ll protect you from now on. You don’t have to be scared anymore.”
Brett mumbles something unintelligible before yanking her hand from my cheek. I would protest except for the fact it lands on my chest—right above the spot where my heart lies. I stay eerily still, watching the tears start to leak from her closed lids.
Before I know what I’m doing, I lunge forward, watching the salty drop on the tip of my tongue. A wave of ecstasy flows through me as Brett coats my tastebuds, and I quickly remove my vial from my coat pocket. I’m running low, and I’m going to need more of her to get me through these next couple of days. Days I’ll be forced to spend away from her.
I lick the rim of the vial before stopping it and placing it in my pocket, deciding not to dwell on it. It’s only a few days, and then I’ll be back where I belong—at her side.
Steeling myself, I slip out of her apartment, closing the door gently behind me. As I take the stairs leading to the street, I scroll through my list of contacts, pressing one I haven’t in decades. One I never thought I would need to.
The line rings once. Twice. Then it clicks through, and a deep, mechanical voice echoes through the speakers.
“P-1313. It’s been a while, kid.”
“Too long, Master.” I frown as I throw my leg over my bike, wishing it were under better circumstances. “I need a favor.”
After a long pause, he says, “Ah. I was wondering when the day would come.” A deep sigh sounds out. “Just tell me what you need, and it’s done. The least I can do.”
“Thanks, Maverick,” I whisper. “Not just for this.”
“Peh. No need to thank me for that.” A deep, rattling cough breaks through the speakers. “Just glad this call came before I finally kicked the bucket. You sure like to take your time.”
“I was taught by the best. It’s the little things that get you caught, remember?”
He chuckles weakly. “Seems like a lifetime ago. I’m glad some of that shit ended up being useful.” There’s a hissing noise in the background, as if he’s taking a breath from his oxygen machine. “You know, you were the best of them, Boy. I always hoped you would be the one to end it all, but I could never be sure. I’m glad you called me.”
“It’s Ghost now,” I remind him, my skin crawling at his careless use of my dead name. “And it was inevitable. Nothing more.”
“So you say.” Another wet cough rumbles through his chest, and I can’t help but cringe. The old man really is dying. “So what do you need me to do?”
I grin to myself, thinking of the plan I’ve set in motion. “I can’t tell you over the phone, but I’ll have Orion send you the details.”
There's a weak chuckle on the other end. “Still far too paranoid, Boy.”
“I learned from the best, after all.”
26 years ago…
I gaze around the circle at the ruddy, anxious faces of my brothers. Master stands at the center of us all, the sunshine glinting menacingly off his sleek obsidian mask.
“Most people think the easiest way to slit a man’s throat is here.” His voice carries out across the clearing, interrupted only by a few hushed gasps as he holds the blade of his dagger against his carotid artery. “We went over that earlier this week. Most of you impressed me with your technique,” he says, nodding in the direction of Matt and Parker, two of the most ruthless boys in our class. “However, this next method is just as effective. If you excel, it just may save your life when we start our live sparring matches in a few months.”
He turns slowly in a circle, looking each of the Rooks in the eye. “Who wants to be my volunteer today?”
Hushed whispers break out around the circle, and I clench my hand at my side, lowering my eyes. I don’t want to attract the attention of the larger, stronger boys—and I certainly don’t want the attention of the master. I thought my mother could be cruel, but he takes it to a whole other level. Who’s to say he won’t just kill the volunteer because he feels like it? It’s clear our lives mean less than cockroaches to him.
“P-1313. Why the sour expression?”
I jerk my head up, unable to hide my glare as I face that soulless black mask. “Just my face, sir.”
“Ah. I see.” His chuckle echoes across the clearing, and I watch as several birds take flight in fear. “How about you help me out today?”
I look around at the faces of the Rooks. Half of them look relieved, while the other side looks practically murderous. They’re the ones who confuse me the most—they genuinely want to be singled out by this man. They crave violence and will jump at any chance to exact it.
They are the beasts this man wants—not me. All I’ve ever wanted was to be good. It’s what I still want, though that dream seems further from reality with each passing day in this hell.
“I wouldn’t dare take that opportunity from my brothers,” I say, holding my chin high even though I feel like melting into a puddle beneath his gaze. “Sir.”
“Hmm.” Master tilts his head, his chest shaking with a repressed chuckle. “Disobeying an order. Gutsy, P-1313. ”
I bow my head, taking a step toward the edge of the forest for good measure. “I meant no offense, sir.”
“Yes. Yet here you are, offending me.” His hand splays at his side, and I swallow hard at the menacing nature of the motion. “Into the circle. Now.”
I nod, my breath picking up speed as I shuffle toward the center, stopping a few feet away from him. Master looks me up and down, a disgusted noise sounding at the back of his throat as he takes in the mangled flesh covering my extremities, at the blood and pus pooling from various open sores from the past few months of training. I’ve been expected to use my body in unfamiliar ways, handling equipment that could hurt me even if I wasn’t paying extreme attention. And because I can’t feel it, I’m constantly reopening the freshly scabbed wounds, which results in most of them becoming severely infected, like now.
“Christ, Boy. You look…” He shakes his head, steeling his shoulders. “You should take better care of your body. At this point, you are a disgrace to the Sanctum.”
I nod, sliding my hands behind my back to cover the worst of the offense. “I apologize, sir. I will do better.”
He nods. “Good.” Clearing his throat, he raises his head to address the rest of the Rooks. “P-1313 will now help me demonstrate this killing blow. Once I am done, you will pair up and practice.” He crosses his arms, his voice taking on a dead-serious tone. “If you let your partner get the best of you, I will not intervene.”
A few of the boys in line cringe, no doubt remembering the Rook we lost earlier this week during his lesson. Jimmy was his name, and he had the unfortunate experience of being paired with Matt on the day we learned the carotid slash. One minute, he was pinned beneath Matt, and the next…
I shake my head, taking a defensive stance as Master begins circling me with his knife held out. I know there’s no way in sweet hell I can stop what’s about to happen, but I can at least show some sort of self-preservation. If I just stand and let him come at me, the other Rooks will sense weakness—and though this is the last thing I want to do, I don’t have a death wish either.
The Phantom lunges at me, much too fast for me to do anything about it. Before I know what’s happening, my arms are pinned at my sides, and his leg is sweeping my feet out from under me. The back of my head slams into the dirt with a dull thunk, and stars swim in my vision as the master crawls on top of me, pinning my chest to the ground, my arms at my sides with his legs.
In a flash, the tip of the dagger is poised above my sternum, angled down and inward.
“You want to keep the blade at a twenty-three-degree angle—just shallow enough to hit the heart, but not so shallow that it hits the rib bones.”
The dagger tip is pressing into my skin, and a bead of blood pours from the small cut. My head swims from the sight of the awful, horrible red, and a wave of nausea pours over me.
Just when I think it’s all over—that he’s going to plunge that dagger into me and end it all in the name of a demonstration—he jumps up, pushing the dagger back into the holster at his waist.
“Now that you’ve all seen it, I want you to practice the technique as I demonstrated. And that means exactly how I demonstrated,” he snarls, crossing his arms. “Absolutely no killing blows today. We won’t have a Disposer until the weekend, and I don’t want to deal with the smell of a dead fucking body all week. Got it?”
“Yes, sir,” the Rooks parrot, the smaller boys of the group heaving sighs of relief. Today, they will be spared. I heave a breath of annoyance as I leap to my feet. No one here seems to care about what happens tomorrow, and it really irritates me.
Master gestures for me to stay in the circle. “Since P-1313 experienced the technique firsthand, he can be the first to spar. P-1314! Enter the circle.”
A boy with flaming-red hair stumbles forward, the whites of his eyes showing all the way around his bright blue irises. He’s slightly chubby, with a streak of large brown freckles across the bridge of his nose. Brenden—I think—is his name, and he looks ready to shit his pants. Most of the other Rooks are scared of me, either because of the way I look or because they’ve heard about my unique ability. But Brenden looks genuinely terrified.
I want to reassure him that I’m not like Matt—I’m not going to kill him today—but those thoughts fly out the window when Brenden grabs his knife and charges me. I sidestep him easily, a smirk tipping my lips as he trips over his own feet toward the edge of the circle.
I stand still, watching as he straightens, his chest heaving just from that short sprint. He wheels around, his face crinkled in a furious expression, the knife shaking in his chubby hand .
“Come on! What are you waiting for!” he calls, taunting me. “You scared, you candle wax freak?”
I flinch. Even though the insult is coming from someone like Brenden, the taunt aimed at the appearance of my skin never fails to strike me to the bone. I reach to my waist, pulling my own dagger out and shifting my grip so my blade is pointed downward.
Brenden sneers, though the sweat beading on his brow takes away from the menacing nature of it. He takes a deep breath, then charges me again. This time, I don’t dodge it, though. I stay still, waiting until he raises his blade in the air to strike. He brings his arm down like a guillotine, and I shoot my palm up, catching the blade in the palm of my hand. A deep, nauseating squelching noise pierces my ears as the blade pushes through the top of my hand, and I meet Brenden’s frightened gaze, an eerie smile spreading across my face.
“Boo,” I whisper, sweeping my leg under his feet like the master did to me. He falls flat on his back, his face scrunching in pain a moment before I straddle his chest, pressing the tip of my dagger into his sternum. I press lightly, just enough that no blood is actually drawn. When I see that red, I’ve been known to lose myself, and I can't afford that right now. Brenden looks innocent enough, but who’s to say what he will do when his neck is on the line?
“Excellent, P-1313.” A slow round of applause makes its way to my ears, and I grit my teeth, holding my position. His next words—so cold and careless—drive a stake through my heart. “End it,” he says. “Show us how a real Phantom deals with weakness.”
Fear grips my chest in icy claws, and I shake my head slowly, never taking my eyes off Brenden’s terrified baby blues. I thought we weren’t supposed to kill anyone today? Why is he doing this?
“I said DO IT!” Master screams, his voice cracking with the rising pitch. “Show me what you’re made of!”
I adjust my grip, pressing down just enough to draw blood. Brenden closes his eyes, resting his head back on the ground. “It’s okay,” he whispers, the tiniest smile lifting the corner of his mouth. “There was no way I was going to get through this, anyway. Better now than later, right?”
I gaze down at his hopeless expression, and my hand shakes. Slowly, I pull the blade from his throat, a loud ringing in my ears as I stand and offer my hand to Brenden. For a moment, he looks like he can’t believe it. Then he takes my hand, but he doesn’t look disgusted when my skin touches his.
“Boy, Brenden! Back in the fucking line!” Master snarls. Brenden and I jump apart, hanging our heads as we jump back in line. He paces, the swish of his coattails leaving a large cloud of dust in his wake.
He stops directly in front of me, and for the first time, I’m thankful I can’t see the expression on his face. “You,” he snarls, leaning in close so we’re nose to nose. “Mercy will get you killed one day, Boy. Remember that the next time you want to spare someone so…” he faces Brenden, his shoulders tightening. “Worthless.”
I breathe a sigh of relief as he leaves me alone, turning his anger toward the next two Rooks shuffling forward to the center of the circle. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Brenden mouthing something at me. And it seems a lot like “thank you.” My chest feels light as I nod, a genuine smile tipping my lips.
I think I just made a friend.