Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Phoenix
The ride back to the safehouse tastes like rust and bad omens. It should have been easy with the empty roads and only our headlights, but my skin itches the whole time, like the air is watching us.
I keep my throttle steady, Ghost’s headlight a constant shadow behind me, but every turn feels tighter, every alley like it’s holding its breath.
We reach the safehouse just after 3 AM. It’s an old shotgun-style place on the edge of the Marigny, run-down but fortified. Viper’s pick. She doesn’t trust much, but she trusts architecture that bleeds history. The walls here have seen worse things than us.
I kill my engine and scan the street before I dismount. Everything is quiet and still. But that feeling doesn’t leave me. Something’s behind us. Or underneath us. Or maybe just inside me now, whispering in time with my pulse.
Ghost parks beside me. He doesn’t speak, just waits. I nod once, and we head inside.
The safehouse lights hum low. Viper waits at the kitchen table, surrounded by a laptop, wires, and one of those cracked burner phones she used to leave like breadcrumbs.
Full-blooded Cajun and half-feral, she talks to ghosts like they owe her money.
If something’s creeping in from the dark, she’ll see it first.
She glances up, sees the tension in my jaw, and doesn’t bother with hello. “Something followed you?”
“Maybe,” I say.
Ghost leans against the wall, arms crossed. “We didn’t see anything.”
“You don’t have to see it to know it’s there,” Viper mutters, turning her screen toward me. If anyone knows anything about spirits, Viper is our best chance. “I pulled footage from the warehouse. This is the last time Raven came through before you ended her.”
I lean in. The footage is grainy and distorted. But clear enough. Raven steps into frame wearing a black hoodie. Her stance is tight, like always. But her eyes…
“Pause it,” I say.
Viper freezes the frame.
Her eyes are white. Not glowing. Not cloudy. Just… wrong. Like something inside her is using her face like a mask.
Ghost leans in. “What the hell?”
“I’ve been running every filter I know,” Viper mutters. “No tampering. No glitching. That’s what the camera saw.”
I study the still. “You run this by MV yet?”
“She sent me something, actually.” Viper taps her phone and plays the message.
MV’s voice, usually crisp, is warped. Slowed down in places, like she’s underwater. “Nix… the symbols… old. Not just occult…pre-occult. Vale found something. Something… beneath the tunnels. Didn’t know… the opening…Nix, don’t…” The message cuts out.
Ghost straightens. “Didn’t know what?”
Viper shakes her head. “That’s all I got.”
I clench my fists. “Send it to me. Encrypt it. Don’t talk to MV again unless it’s through a secure line.”
Ghost eyes me. “You think she’s compromised?”
“I think everything is.”
We settle into our routines. If you can call it that. I clean my weapons. Ghost checks the perimeter. Viper doesn’t sleep, just keeps scanning frequencies like she’s chasing static for meaning.
I try to close my eyes, but it’s no use.
An hour later, I find Ghost in the hallway, pacing slowly. His shirt is off. His scars are lit by the cold light from the half-cracked window.
He looks at me. “You heard it again, didn’t you?”
I nod. “My name. Just a whisper. Same as at the levee.”
He runs a hand through his hair. “It’s not random.”
“No,” I agree. “It’s personal.”
He leans against the doorframe, like his body’s too heavy all of a sudden. “Whatever this is, it’s not just following me. It’s inside the cracks. Between things. It shows up when I’m asleep, when I blink, when I breathe.”
I move to him slowly, stopping just short of touching. “Tell me what else you remember.”
He swallows. “I see Vale standing over me, smiling like a priest at a funeral. But it’s not his voice. I see Raven laughing. Her mouth moves, but it’s not her laugh. Like it’s practicing how to wear their faces. Getting better every time.”
“Practicing what?”
He looks at me. “Coming for us.”
Since neither Ghost nor I can sleep, we wander down to the room Viper is set up in. “I found something else,” she says, showing me a map of New Orleans marked in red symbols. Some are carved into stone, others burned into trees. They form a rough circle around the French Quarter.
A containment ring.
“Someone was keeping something in,” Viper says. “I think Vale broke it.”
I nod slowly. “Which means it’s out.”
At dawn, Ghost steps onto the porch. I follow him, drawn by the way his body tightens like a wire.
One of our sentries, Brick, a local we paid to watch the back alley, lies dead by the fence. His eyes burned out. No bruises. No blood. Just… absence. I’ve seen bodies torn open, stitched back wrong. But this? It’s like the universe forgot he was here.
Ghost kneels beside him, jaw clenching. “No wounds.”
Viper joins us, gun drawn. “No heat signature either. Like he was erased.”
I crouch low, eyes scanning the street. “Then it knows where we are.”
Ghost looks up. “So what now?”
I meet his gaze. “Now we burn the rules. If it’s not something we can kill…”
“Then we learn how,” he finishes, voice steady. Remembering my words from earlier. I squeeze his hand once. The symbol from the map is carved into the fence beside Brick’s body. A spiral. Deep, fresh, and bleeding.