Twenty-Eight

Vale

I'd never been in this part of the Ghost's club, but if I had to describe it, I'd call it medieval dungeon meets unfinished basement torture chamber, complete with a couple floor drains and hose hook-ups.

"I don't even want to know what you guys have done here."

"Interrogation," Biter supplied. "They pee themselves a lot. Tonight'll be different."

"You shouldn't be here," Kale complained. There were only the four of us, plus Dutch in the chamber, and I had a feeling, if Kale had his way, it would only be him and his second-in-command conducting this questioning.

"I need to be. He owes me," I replied without elaborating. I stared at Dutch who was tied to a chair in the center of the room. He was bleeding, his face swollen by whatever had been done to him before I'd gotten here. "The only one who shouldn't be present is Dayton. He's a cop."

Day snorted. "Probably not for much longer."

"Join the shadow side. We have morally gray values," Biter joked.

"You guys shut the fuck up," Kale snarled. He pointed at Biter. "Especially you."

"Someone's in a pissy mood tonight."

"You know I don't like killing people," Kale muttered. "Especially when I have to escort them to their judgment."

"Do what again?" I asked.

He shook his head, then advanced on Dutch, wrapping his glowing-white hand around the man's throat. "Who do you answer to?"

"No one," he rasped.

The glow grew brighter, and tendrils licked against Dutch's face, leaving behind red curling burns, while he yelled.

"Who do you answer to?"

"Fuck you," Dutch cursed.

"Wouldn't you like that? I know some of the fucked up perverse things you do. You're not as secretive as you think."

While I stared aghast, one of Kale's hands lifted and a lightning-like stream of energy speared into Dutch's ear while the man writhed. "I can just…fish around in here…see what I can find…" Kale grimaced. "You're worse than an animal with the shit you do. Who told you to kill your partner's wife? Morte? Your boss…who calls himself Morte… RaphaelMont… Montenegro"

"I didn't kill her. I'm not telling you anything, freak."

"You did," I yelled, and Dutch's glassy, pain-filled eyes shifted to look at me. "You did. You snuck into the building and you murdered Melonie Windsor."

"You don't know…anything," he rasped.

"I know everything!" I screamed. "I was Melonie Windsor! I stood there, helpless, while you emptied your gun into me. Murdering me!"

Kale flinched while Biter stared at me, his mouth dropped open. Dayton grabbed my arm and reeled me back when I lurched toward Dutch, ready to do my own damage.

"You fucking bastard," I cried at the man who had no remorse for ending a life. For ending who knew how many other lives. "You…"

Dayton curled me into his chest when I broke off in a sob, but I wasn't finished. I wanted Dutch to know he hadn't won.

"I jumped bodies," I managed. "Because I couldn't let you take me from Dayton."

"Well, then," Dutch panted through his pain. "I guess you know everything." His chest heaved, and I couldn't find any remorse for his agony. "Maybe, I'll do that, too. Take a little jump, and you can spend your life looking over your shoulder."

"No," Kale gritted out. "I'm gonna escort you directly to your final destination. Do not pass go. Do not return. Go directly to hell."

His hands turned gold, moving up to cup Dutch's temples. "You won't tell me what I want… I'll fucking find it for myself."

Kale tipped back his head, eyes closed, then made slow circles with it while his whole body seemed to take on a ghostly glow. I didn't know what he was doing, but Dutch's screams echoed off the walls in an unending, unholy chorus.

"He's rifling through Dutch's brain files," Biter whispered. "Scrambling things, too."

"It's over. Now you pay the price!" Kale yelled.

"Oh, that's me," Biter stepped forward. "Gotta go keep the boss alive."

"Shit," Dayton swore when Biter's hand seemed to lose form and reach into Kale's chest through his back. I heaved, covering my mouth with my hand as I turned my face into Dayton's chest, but… I couldn't not look. Aghast, I watched the ghostly forms leave. Both bodies sagged while Biter eased Kale's to the ground, his hand firmly inside his chest still.

"Kale!" I screamed. "Kale!"

Suddenly, Kale gasped. His eyes popping open.

"It's done," he slurred. "It's done."

Biter nodded.

"Micca," Kale finally said, using Biter's real name. "Get your fucking hand out of my chest."

"You gonna live now?"

My brother nodded. "For probably longer than I deserve."

Biter helped him to his feet, holding him until he steady. Kale shuffled over to me. "Hell of a thing when I've gotta do that."

"What did you do?" I breathed.

"Took him where he belongs. Handed him off to the reapers. They hate that, hate that they gotta let me come back."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, not talking about Dutch or the reapers.

"Fuck, Vale. I knew. It's a side effect of my genetic mutations. I saw the change the second you opened your eyes. I've just been impatiently waiting for you to tell me." Cupping the back of my head, thankfully without the energy pulses he'd used on Dutch, he pulled my forehead to his. "As far as I'm concerned, though, that doesn't make you any less my sister. DNA says you're mine. You're stuck with me."

"Really?"

"Really. Family forever." He smiled sadly. "Will you…" He paused, visibly strengthening himself. "Will you tell me what happened with your souls? How she went? If she said anything? Did she…blame me?"

"She loved you. But she just couldn't stay," I whispered with a shake of my head. "No blame."

Kale nodded, and Dayton pulled me back to him. He'd been so quiet through this whole thing. I was okay—surprisingly okay now that my secrets were out and Dutch was gone, though admittedly reapers terrified me. But I wasn't sure if Dayton was alright, and that was just as important to me.

"I guess I'll have to get along with that cop boyfriend of yours now, huh?" Kale joked.

"Husband. It's husband and will be official real soon. And it's Dayton, not cop," Dayton told him. "I don't care about any you don't pick your club name rule."

"Yeah. Okay, cop. We're going to clean up the mess. ‘Fraid Dutch'll be found in a drug house. Overdose. The call will come in tomorrow. Or maybe a couple days. He deserves to rot a little."

"I hate moldering corpses," my man muttered.

Kale snorted. "Whatever. You guys go home and do whatever—I don't want to know. But make sure to see Prick before you go."

"Why?" Day asks.

"Don't you want to be cool like me?"

"Yeah, sure," Dayton said without enthusiasm. I wasn't so sure about getting powers either, but if Day was getting the serum, so was I. Just to keep up.