Page 83 of The Phantom's Vice

Well, that’s one place to keep a spare key.

It occurs to me that this is the one place Ghost knew I wouldn’t search. Except he forgot that Venom is always watching.

“Good boy,” I coo, reaching down to scratch his head. Venom chirps, brushing against my ankles before waddling toward the exit.A job well done.

I shake my head with a chuckle, then focus on the problem lying on the floor. The last thing I want to do is touch this, but it’s not like I have another choice. With a sigh, I head into the kitchen and grab a small paring knife. My knuckles are white around the handle when I finally return to the head, and I fight to swallow the rising bile in my throat.

“You got this, Brett,” I whisper aloud. “It’s just a head. A hacked-off, embalmed head. It’s totally fine.” I crouch, piercing the skin with the tip of the blade as my stomach flips. I make a vertical cut across the lump and pop the little chip out with shaking fingers like a pimple.

It flies out of the skin, skidding across the floor and stopping with atinkon the far wall. Dropping the knife, I scuttle over and pinch the small pea-sized key between my thumb and forefinger.

“Fuck yes!” I cheer, nearly dropping the tiny gray thing in my excitement. I rush toward the front door, placing my ear to the stone for a moment to listen for Ghost’s footsteps. When no sound answers, I place the bead to the small divot in thewall, my heart skipping as the stone door scrapes open.

Just as I’m about to leave, the scrape of nails against the floorboards calls my attention, and I look behind me to find Rupert, his big, lazy eyes pinning me with an accusatory stare.

“I’ll be back, I promise,” I say, my heart squeezing as Rupert looks behind me for Ghost. “He’s not coming with. But I swear, it’s for a good reason.”

As Rupert’s sad face disappears behind the closing door, my gut screams at me, telling me this is a bad idea. But it’s a little too late to listen to reason now.

Miraculously, the key I found works for Ghost’s truck, too—which is good, considering I hadn’t thought that far ahead. After driving much too slowly down the winding wilderness roads, I finally make it to the main highway, then gun it the rest of the way into the city.

An hour later, I’m pulling into the driveway of Jim’s house. I’d been here a few times in the past for cookouts and coworker bonding sessions—something Jim liked to call them, though I’m pretty sure it was just an excuse for the guys to get together and get drunk off cheap beer. At the time, I hated the obligation, but now I’m thankful because there’s no way I would go to the station to talk to him. In his world, I’ve been missing for the past month, and I’m sure the bureau would not take kindly to me just showing up out of nowhere and refusing to answer their questions.

I hope he doesn’t freak out and call the police.I cringe at the thought as I pull the keys from the ignition and race up to Jim’s front door. The sun is already below the horizon, meaning Jim is home from work. I just have to hope he listens to me.

I raise my fist, ready to pound on his beige front door, but something stops me. Shaking off that strange, nagging feeling, I knock three times, then listen for the sound of nearing footsteps. The lock clicks open, and the door is thrust open, revealing a wide-eyed, rumpled-looking Jim. His thinning brown hair is tousled like he’s been running his hands through it constantly, and the dark circles under his eyes tell me he hasn’t been sleeping much lately, which would explain the fact he hasn’t quite gotten the buttons to match up on his shirt.

“Hi, Jim.”

“Brett,” he whispers, looking like he’s seen a ghost.Oh, if only you knew what I’ve been through…

“Before you freak out, I’m oka—” My explanation is cut off as Jim lunges forward, wrapping his arms around me in a massive bear hug. My feet leave the ground as a squeal falls from my open mouth, and my skin immediately breaks out in a swarm of fire ants where his hands rest on my bare shoulders. “J-Jim… I’m okay, I swear.”

He holds me to him like he doesn’t hear me, his body shuddering enough to concern me. “Jim?”

“Just…” He sighs, pressing his face into my hair. “Just let me fucking hug you, woman. I thought you were…” He swallows hard, not needing to finish the sentence for me to understand. He thought I was dead. Theyallthought I was dead.

A wave of guilt pours over me as reality crashes into me. How could I have just been living my life, having a grand old time while people here worried about me? And by the look on Jim’s face, he’s not angry. Just so, so relieved.

“Brett, you have no idea how glad I am you’re here,” he whispers, finally loosening his grip after a few more minutes of the torturous hug. “Come inside. Tell me everything.”

Another ball of guilt punches me in the stomachas I follow Jim inside, a metallic taste coating my tongue as I take my bottom lip between my teeth. As bad as I feel, I can’t tell Jimeverything.If he knew what I did about Ghost, there’s no way he would let him stay free. He doesn’t know him like I do and doesn’t understand a fraction of the things happening in this city. I just have to pray that what I can tell him will be enough.

I plop onto Jim’s dark leather sofa, the scent of cigar smoke wafting up my nose and making me sneeze. Jim smiles apologetically, taking the armchair opposite me and leans forward with his elbows on his knees.

“So… where were you? No, wait—first, tell me whathappened.”

“Well…” I twist my fingers in my lap, unable to look Jim in the eye. “I was taken.”

Jim shakes his head, his jaw tight. “They didn’t…? Did they?”

Realizing he’s asking if I wasraped,I finally look up with wide eyes. “Wha—no! Of course not.”Because it was completely consensual, and the best damn thing to ever happen to me. But Jim can’t know that.I take a deep breath before continuing. “Nothingbadhappened to me. I was just… unable to get away.”

“You were fuckingkidnapped,Brett. Somethingbaddidhappen to you.” Jim clenches his fist, looking like he’d like nothing more than to send it through the face of the person who did this to me. “Who was it?”

“I can’t—I don’t know,” I say, a little too quickly. Jim’s eyes narrow, and he leans in closer.

“Brett, you can tell me. No one is going to hurt you anymore. Not while I’m here.”

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