Warhead (Blue-Eyed Bomb Book 4) Read online

  I looked back at him and forced a smile. “It’s okay, big guy. Thanks anyway.”

  I stepped into the early morning sun and hurried toward the gate. For once, Damascus didn’t follow and stop me with some ominous premonition. In fact, he didn’t leave the house—at least not right away.

  As I neared the gate, a figure appeared at the edge of the property: a girl who looked a little too much like me for my comfort. The ghost of the corpse I’d seen only hours earlier paced the border of his land, hands scratching and picking at her arms relentlessly.

  “Are you looking for me?” I asked. She stopped and pinned her empty eyes on mine. “Do you know who killed you?” No response, just a continued blank stare. “If you can come with me, I have a way for you to tell me your story—and a friend that can help.”

  I thought I saw her shoulders relax ever so slightly, but I couldn’t be sure.

  Before I could step closer, her head snapped to something behind her—something I could neither hear nor see. She looked back at me with terror in her brown eyes and a silent scream that I would never be able to erase from my memory for as long as I lived. She disappeared with a loud ‘pop’. Having never seen anything like that before, I turned back toward Damascus’ house to find him standing on the porch, eyes as wide as the dead girl’s had been.

  “What the fu—”

  I couldn’t finish my sentence before the cause of all the commotion appeared: the ghost I’d seen when I’d raced from the railyard last time. A ghost like no other.

  He flickered at the edge of the property like a TV with bad reception. His form jumped and faded until it finally became clear, though not as clear as those I normally saw. But that wasn’t what disturbed me the most. It was the solid-as-could-be book in his hands that he extended toward me and the wild look in his pale grey eyes as he offered it.

  Book wasn’t a good word for what it was, really. It was more of a tome—an ancient, locked encyclopedia of wonders I could only imagine. I walked toward it, unable to look away. I reached for the book that seemed to call to me, fingers grasping for those antique pages. But I never touched it. Instead, a juggernaut slammed into my side and tackled me to the ground.

  It took a second to realize that Damascus was the name of the battering ram lying on top of me. His wide, inhuman eyes glowed a blinding yellow.

  “Do. Not. Move,” he said as though I could have if I’d wanted to. Superhuman strength or not, I wasn’t sure I could push his heavy ass off.

  “I usually require dinner and a movie before I get horizontal with men, but—”

  “Silence,” he snapped before daring a look back to where the flickering ghost had been. He must have approved of whatever he saw, because he was off me in a flash, backing away to give me space. “My apologies, Daughter of the PC, but that was necessary.”

  “I got that,” I said, standing up and dusting off my pants. “I just want to know why.”

  “That book,” he said, unable to meet my gaze. His eyes remained fixed on where the ghost had been. “It is dangerous, especially in the wrong hands.”

  I felt my features scrunch with offense. “Wrong hands—”

  “It is not meant as an insult,” he said.

  “I’ll try not to take it as one, then.”

  “It is powerful. Its abilities combined with Death’s would be devastating.”

  “So…don’t touch the book. Got it.”

  “I must go,” he said, looking again to where the ghost had been. Without another word, he stalked off toward his house, slamming the door behind him as if our conversation was done. Apparently, for him, it was.

  “Great talk!” I yelled after him.

  I grumbled to myself as I made my way to the bus stop, too many questions ricocheting around my brain—like I needed more of those. We already had our hands full with the warring packs, dead bodies, and my face on a MOST WANTED poster. Creepy blinking ghosts carrying powerful books seemed unnecessary at best.

  At worst, a sign of bad shit to come.

  Chapter Eleven

  I made it home before anyone returned, a small blessing in a shitstorm of chaos.

  I had just enough time to grab something to eat and flop down on the couch before the Fates strolled in—Ferris, then Cy, then Zale—as though they always traveled in order of decreasing height. I stifled a laugh at the thought, which earned me a wink from Cy, the mischief-maker of the bunch.

  “Something funny, fugitive?” he asked, tossing a couple of blades down on the counter.

  “Ain’t nothin’ funny about living on the lam,” I replied. That earned me an actual laugh.

  “Have you heard from TS?” Ferris asked.

  I shook my head. “No, but I don’t know how much he can really do.”

  “A lot,” Zale said, that sleepy faraway tone of his drifting across the room. We all stared at him for further explanation but received little more than a sheepish shrug before he disappeared upstairs.

  “He seems off,” I said once the door had closed behind him. “I mean, off by Zale standards.”

  “He’s worried about you,” Cy replied. “We all are.”

  “The fuzz can’t keep me down,” I said with a smile, but I knew it wasn’t true, and so did they. The cops could make my life difficult and possibly expose things about our world in the process. With every slip-up, the likelihood of that occurring increased. The PC’s connections ran deep, and our collective magic and powers were impressive, but that didn’t make us untouchable.

  “Well I wish we had better news for you, but our poking around hasn’t yielded anything helpful yet,” Ferris said, an unspoken apology in his eyes. “Hopefully everyone else has had more success.”

  “I’ve got my money on Muses,” I muttered under my breath, knowing what he was capable of. If he ever got wind of Bowers, I would be in a world of shit.

  “Were you able to reach the ghost?” Cy asked, sitting down on the far end of the couch from me. “The dead girl?”

  “Sort of,” I said, turning to face him, ready to bend the truth however needed to keep my little field trip out of the story. “She came, but she disappeared too quickly to get anything from her.” Ferris sat down on the coffee table next to me, brow furrowed with concentration. “She looked tweaked out—scratching and twitchy. Maybe she was a junkie?”

  “Maybe,” they replied in unison.

  “But that doesn’t really tell us anything helpful.”

  “Is that it?” Ferris asked. He was always looking for the finest detail the rest of us might have overlooked. The Sherlock Holmes of the crew, indeed.

  Or maybe I was just that transparent.

  I hesitated a moment, trying to figure out how best to explain the rogue ghost that had appeared and shoved a dangerous, ancient book at me. I eventually settled on blurting it out.

  “Another ghost showed up—I think he actually scared the girl off, now that I think about it—but he looked weird. Nothing like they normally do. He flickered in and out, and his image was kinda jerky when he moved.” The two of them sat silently, absorbing what I’d said. “But the weirdest part of all was the book he carried.”

  “Book?” Ferris asked, suspicion in his tone.

  “Yeah, some wicked old tome of sorts with uneven page edges, wrapped in a weathered leather binding with a lock to keep it shut.” Ferris went still. Only his eyes moved, growing so wide I feared they might pop out. “What I couldn’t understand,” I continued, starting to ramble, “was how the book seemed so solid and real when the ghost wasn’t. Like it was an actual object of this world and not the ghost of one…”

  Ferris had his phone out, texting someone as I spoke. Before I could ask who he had messaged, his phone dinged with an incoming reply. He clicked on it, then turned the phone to me.

  “Is this the book?” he asked. Though his voice gave little away, the tension in his body spoke volumes—as did Cy’s silence.

  “Maybe—I can’t be sure.”

  “I need to ma
ke a call,” he said, launching off the coffee table just as TS walked in. Ferris cast him a wary glance, then headed upstairs.

  “Ferris—”

  “I’ll see what this is about,” Cy said to me before following his fellow Fate. The stairwell door slammed shut, leaving TS and me alone.

  “Something I said?” he asked with a tight smile. It almost hid the fatigue lingering in his eyes.

  “They just got back. I think they’re regrouping with Zale, who disappeared as soon as they got home.”

  “And you?” he asked, headed my way.

  “Not much luck on my end. I saw the ghost, but she buggered off. I’m going to see if Reah can help me somehow—maybe with both of us we can draw her in and keep her here until we learn what we need to.”

  He stopped before me. The light of the morning spilled through the dirty windows, illuminating the dark circles under his eyes and his slightly sallow undertone. TS had been working doggedly for my father for the past week or more, and though he couldn’t tell me why or on what, I could see the effects.

  And now he had a mess in Chicago to keep him busy, too.

  “You look tired,” I said, stuffing my hands in my pockets to keep myself from touching his face. From tracing the lines worry had etched into his expression.

  He forced yet another halfhearted smile. “I’m fine. I just wanted to come back and let you know what’s going on at the precinct.”

  “I’m guessing it’s not good news.”

  He shook his head. “I was able to diminish the importance of your role in the case—to assuage their curiosity for now—but I don’t know that it will be enough. I couldn’t get the name of the officer who accepted the photos of you. We may have to send Muses in to get more information before I can be of much help.”

  “Jesus…letting Muses loose in there is hardly going to be discreet, TS.”

  “It may be our only option, unless we can find out who is setting you up another way.”

  I steadied my expression while my heart plummeted to my stomach. “Yeah…I guess you’re right.”

  “For now, you’re going to have to lay low, which I know you hate, but short of shipping you out of town until this all blows over, I don’t know what else to do.” He studied me for a moment, as though that idea had just occurred to him and it held merit. “Maybe that’s exactly what you should do—go stay with your parents. Or maybe your uncles in Detroit. I know how much you adore Kierson—”

  “I’m not leaving,” I blurted out with the tact of rabid dog. “I’m staying here.”

  “There’s no reason for you to, especially if you can call the ghosts somewhere else—”

  “I’m not leaving and that’s final!” I shouted.

  Those keen hazel eyes narrowed. “Once again, I feel like you’re not telling me everything.”

  “I’m not leaving Jenks to deal with the fallout from the mess Muses and I made, TS. That’s a raging dick move.”

  “Jenkins shouldn’t want you involved if it puts you in danger—”

  “And I’m sure he doesn’t, but that’s not his call to make,” I said, staring him down. “He doesn’t own me, and I don’t answer to him.”

  The ‘I don’t answer to you, either,’ hung heavy in the air between us.

  “All right, then, stay.” He didn’t sound pleased with that outcome, nor did he look it.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just—”

  “On edge lately?” he said, interrupting me. “Bothered by something? I might have noticed.”

  I took a deep breath. “Come sit with me?”

  Before he could answer, I headed up the stairs to the roof. There was something about being up there that made it easier to say what I wanted to say; to be true to my feelings, no matter how traitorous they might be.

  We soon found ourselves standing next to the edge, looking out over the city as we often did, though never in the light of day. Stunning though it was, there was something so electric about the skyline in the light of the moon.

  “I would be lying if I said you weren’t worrying me right now,” he said. I turned to find genuine concern in his profile, and the tension in my chest grew.

  “I’m sorry, I just—” I stopped myself, unsure of how to ask him what I wanted to ask without arousing suspicion.

  “You just what, Phira?”

  “I wanted to ask you something—something I’ve wanted to since Muses made a comment to me.”

  “Muses is somehow involved in your odd behavior?” he asked. “Now I’m really worried.”

  “It’s not bad,” I said.

  “It certainly can’t be good, judging by the look on your face.” I shot him one full of concern, and he backpedaled. “Please just ask me what you need to know so you can stop internalizing whatever it is that’s stressing you. I’ll answer as best I can.”

  Remember, Phira, the best lies are dressed with truths…

  Nyx’s words rang through my head, and I nodded as though she’d said them out loud. TS looked at me strangely, but I waved off his concern.

  “Nyx just made a suggestion about how best to broach the subject.”

  “And what did she come up with?” he asked.

  “To just spit it out and hope for the best. So…here goes nothing.” I braced myself for the backlash before my epic rambling began. “Muses said something the night we took out the null who’d been killing people through the fight club,” I said, wondering how I was going to explain why his words had bothered me so much without giving my feelings away. Because I wasn’t sure I was ready for that. Ready for the potential rejection that could follow.

  Ready for the anguish Muses had prophesized.

  “What did he say that has you so bothered?”

  “He said something about your arrangement with my father—and you being appointed my guardian. That Dad wouldn’t have done that without taking certain precautions first.”

  TS looked out over the city, his features tense. “Precautions?”

  “Muses used the term ‘failsafes’—said Dad would never have let someone like you close to his precious daughter without them.”

  Silence fell heavy between us for a moment, but it felt like eternity.

  “What else did he say?”

  “He…he said we were doomed, TS. But I don’t understand why.” I dared a glance at him. “Do you?”

  “Because Muses loves to upset you,” he replied, his voice as taut as his shoulders. “He also loves to meddle where he doesn’t belong and to create suspicion where none is needed. You should ignore his words, Phira. He revels in your misery.”

  I picked at a fray in my jeans and tried to accept his response. “You’re sure that’s it?”

  “I would say his plan has worked, has it not?” he asked. “Are you not tormented by his words? By this seed of doubt he’s planted in your mind? You’ve not been yourself since that night, especially not with me.” He went quiet for a moment before turning to face me. “I thought perhaps what happened at Alejandro’s had changed things between us—ruined the trust we once shared—so I was willing to give you space for however long you needed.”

  “I already forgave you for that,” I argued.

  “But forgiveness does not erase the memory—does not wash away the hurt.”

  I let out a breath. “Yeah. I guess that’s true.”

  “Muses sought to prey upon that pain, Phira.” I could see the anger in his eyes as he spoke. “Perhaps I’ll have to speak to him about that…”

  “No,” I said with a sigh. “There’s no point. He’ll just keep it up if you do.”

  “He’ll keep it up as long as he thinks you doubt me.”

  “True.”

  “And do you?” he pressed. “Doubt me?”

  My hesitation didn’t foster any confidence. I sat on the ledge and tried to think of a way to fix this mess.

  “Tell me something about your past,” I said, an impish smile growing on my face. “Tell me how
you and my father first met.”

  “Is this a test?” he asked, curiosity quirking his brow.

  “Maybe? But more like a pop quiz, I think.”

  “And if I fail?”

  I sucked in a breath through my teeth. “Let’s just say you’d better not. For both our sakes.”

  “Then I shall do my best, if the fate of our relationship hangs in the balance.”

  I couldn’t help but notice the glint in his eyes as he teased me. I tried to ignore what it did to my heart.

  “I have a fair amount of latitude on the subject, but I will leave out the most shocking details, for I do not wish you to pity me.” I suddenly wished I hadn’t asked the question. He took a breath and let it out in a harsh exhale before he spoke. “I’ve told you before that your father rescued me from something, and for that I am eternally grateful. What he rescued me from was a life of imprisonment, forced to do the bidding of a madman.”

  Ice shot through my veins at his words.

  “But how?” I whispered, wanting to touch him more than ever but not daring to. His energy was full of pain and anger, and a part of me somewhere deep down inside knew that contact would only make it worse. I sat on my hands to keep myself in check. “You’re one of the most powerful beings I know…”

  “A magical cage,” he said, a notable bite to his tone. “I lost track of how long I served him—how many terrible things I was forced to do. Then one day your father arrived and promised to take me away to a different life if I agreed to serve him. It wasn’t even a choice, really. I would have done unspeakable things to escape my fate.”

  “So he got you out?”

  “Yes.”

  “And for that, you bound yourself to him?” I asked.

  He nodded. “In a fashion. It was less me binding myself to him and more him leveraging me to work for the PC.” I tried to make sense of the need to clarify the difference. It seemed like splitting hairs to me—until it didn’t. “To know my name is to potentially own me, Sapphira,” he said, looking over at me.

  “But you told me that only one other person knew your name…”