Page 46 of Whispers of Fire

“No, brother, haven’t found another one yet,” I say, almost sorry for him cause I know how Carter likes to, well in his words, play . I circle the bar and pour two whiskeys, putting them on the counter. Making my way back to the stool, I sit on one of them and drink the brown liquor, deliciously burning my throat. Carter takes the seat next to me, taking his glass and swaying the whiskey in it, his mind elsewhere, just zonin’ out.

That’s how he got his nickname, Ghost. Cause most of the time he’s here without being there with us, lost in the darkness of his mind.

I’m used to it, we all are. Carter is, well, different. He doesn’t have the social skills you’d expect from a twenty-five year old guy. One minute you have a conversation with him and the next he’s driftin’ away, his eyes lost, unreachable. But you’d be wrong if you’d think his behavior displays calmness, because there’s another side of him.

Another side way darker than the cold exterior he presents.

An unhinged one.

Saw him losing it once when he saw one of our enemies hitting a random woman in the street; he couldn’t stand seeing a woman being hurt. So he took the guy back to the basement and shredded him into literal pieces with a chainsaw and posted it to his prez. It took him a whole day. When he finally got out of the basement, covered in blood, he sat next to Viper and drank a beer with him like nothing had happened.

“Too bad, had fun with the last one,” he says, his eyes focusing on the brown liquid in the glass.

“When was the last time you got out of the club?” I ask, trying to make him more comfortable. Small talk isn’t his forte.

“Why?” he asks in a defensive tone.

“Just askin’,” I try to act as casually as I can while reading him.

“I get out.” He pauses. “At night,” he says, taking the glass to his lips and drinking the whole thing in one shot.

“Found a new girl?” He doesn’t reply, his jaw clenching hard. I sigh.

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

“We’ve talked about this, Carter, you know you have to stop sending them pieces of bodies.” My voice staying as calm as possible cause I know it’s a sensitive topic for him. Carter likes to, well, show his interest in girls in his own way. Which is kind of terrifying for most people, especially the last one who received the foot from his last session. I get that my stalking habits aren’t the best, but there’s a line for most people, and parts of human bodies are pretty common.

“Yeah, no shit. Don’t you think I know?”

I stay silent, hopin’ he’ll talk more and I’ll get to know what mess I'll have to clean after his nightly visits.

“Didn’t do anythin’ since the last girl. I, well, they never like my presents anyway. So I don’t see the point in continuing.”

Thank fuck.

“So, a new girl, huh?”

He nods and pour himself another drink from the bottle on the counter.

“Don’t want to fuck it up this time.”

“Alright, good, that’s, yeah good.” I’m a bit surprised but relieved at his words. Let’s just hope this girl will know how to handle him.

“You know Alexander Skarn, right?” Perhaps he’ll have the answers I’m looking for.

“The fuckin' Messiah or shit?”

Bingo.

“Yeah, him.”

“What do ya wanna know?” he asks, tilting his head on the side.

“Anythin’ you have on him.” I already knew he was a crooked guy, but Ares was the only one dealin’ with him, somethin’ he has always insisted on, even if I'm usually the one doing those sort of things for the club.

“Well,” he said, brushin’ his chin with his tattooed hand, “That fucker is a wolf dressed in sheep clothing, that I can tell ya.” He whistles. “Fuckin’ dangerous guy.” Tiltin’ his head, his brows narrows.

“Anythin’ specific on him?” I say, closing my arms, my head churnin’ fast, explorin’ the possibilities of why a man like him would wander in our dark world.

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