Page 72 of The Neighborhood Ghost

Thaddeus turned with Hugo, never breaking eye contact. “You will need more than the power of love if you want to get past the banshee’s army.”

“I’m willing to fight the entire army of the undead myself if needed, so Alice and I can leave here.” Hugo stepped into the hallway, drawing the hockey stick closer to him.

He charged down the hallway when Thaddeus rushed in through the other side to block him. Thaddeus held his arms out, attempting to keep Hugo at bay. Hugo returned the favor by holding the hockey stick high above his head, ready to strike.

“Let’s not be hasty,” Thaddeus said. “We can work this out.”

“If you don’t get out of my way, I’ll go through you,” Hugo shouted back. “I fought you off once before. I can do it again.”

Thaddeus moved his left hand to his chest, keeping the right outstretched. “I am looking forward to the rematch, but we can work something out. I told you, I care about survival. Maybe we can come to some sort of agreement. You help me, and I help you.”

Hugo held the stick above his head. “Why should I trust you?”

“If she finds out you reversed the banshee’s wail, no doubt the rider will send me to oblivion. You are my only chance to leave this place. I told you. Survival.”

Hugo held his glare, his snarl. The thought of helping the man who tortured him—who tortured Johanna—sickened him. The uneasiness sent a sensation of his stomach churning throughout his body. He couldn’t. He couldn’t help the man who had caused so much pain and suffering.

He needed all the help he could get to fight off the ghouls, and having someone else in the fight never hurt, but it wouldn’t matter. As long as he could find Alice, her magick would be all the help he needed. He repositioned his left hand on the taped knob, his fingers wrapping around for a better grip.

“Johanna was a friend of mine. You tortured her for nothing. You committed her to a life of loneliness and suffering for nothing. You try living over three hundred years. Watching loved ones die. You twisted her. How can I trust you’ll help me?”

“She was your friend because I tortured her. Her name would have been long forgotten by the time you were around.You could say I helped to give her the gift of life,” Thaddeus responded.

“You’re a mad monster,” Hugo shouted.

Thaddeus lowered his arm. He stood up straight and tugged on his dark green coat. The gold buttons remained in their pristine shape. He tilted his head. His voice grew deeper, lower. “I may be a monster, but I am not mad. I am a survivor.”

Attack him.

A rage rumbled in Hugo’s depths. An anger. A fury. The vampirism coursed through his body. All his sensations elevated. He couldn’t smell blood pumping through Thaddeus, but he sensed Thaddeus was primed for a fight. Hugo had no choice. He had to go through Thaddeus.

Do it now!

He readied himself to charge, to strike fast and neutralize Thaddeus. Hugo needed to knock him off balance so he could exit through the door. It was the only way. If it turned into a slugfest, then Thaddeus held all the strength and momentum. If this was a hockey fight, he could go blow for blow. The ice was the great neutralizer with size. With enough tilt and leverage, anyone could go down.

What I wouldn’t give to be on ice right now.

Hugo readied himself, steeling his resolve. He slid his right hand further up the hockey stick toward the blade to maximize the swing. It was now or never. He was going to strike first. He lunged forward, ready to?—

Hugo stopped.

His renewed vampiric senses heard something through the walls. The noise was coming from outside. The ghouls. All the ghouls were wailing as loud as they could. Hugo could hear them, as if they were warning each other. Warning them of something . . . or someone.

Hugo lowered the stick.

“I knew you would see it my way,” Thaddeus said.

“Open the door,” Hugo said in his normal voice.

“I am not letting you out of here without a fight unless you let me come with you.”

“Open the door,” Hugo said in a raised voice. “Something’s happening. I can hear the ghouls.”

“What?”

“Open the fucking door!” Hugo raised the stick.

Thaddeus kept his focus on Hugo, but he reached back for the ornate diamond-shaped knob. He turned the knob and opened the door.

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