Page 84 of The Phantom's Vice

“You’re not listening,” I sigh, bringing my fingers up to massage my temples. “He didn’thurt me.He took care of me. Kept me safe.”

“And that’s the Stockholm syndrome talking,” Jim says, his voice much softer than it was before. “Brett, honey, you were there for a long time. I know youthinkthey’re not a bad person, but they are. Just tell me what they look like—that’s it. I can pull a task team together by tomorrow morning, and we’ll find?—”

“Jim, stop!” I stand from the couch, my chest heaving in frustration. “This…personis not the bad guy. He told me things about the city—about the Sanctum. They’rereal,Jim.”

He shakes his head, standing slowly. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Brett.”

“Yes, I do!” I cry, reaching into my pocket and wrapping my fingers aroundMom’s notebook. “I can prove it—look! My mom was looking into them too over a decade ago.That’swhy she was killed, Jim. She found out too much, and the Sanctum had her murdered. You have to help me, you have to… Jim?”

Jim hangs his head, his shoulders tense. I can’t see his expression, but something in the air of the room makes my words die in my throat. Something sinister.

“You just couldn’t leave it the fuck alone, could you?”

I take an involuntary step back, only to smack straight into the couch. “Wh-what are you talking about?”

“You just couldn’t stop looking at the Sanctum.” He raises his head, and the malice in his hazel eyes knocks the breath from my lungs. “Itoldyou I didn't want to bury any more colleagues. Now look what you’ve made me do.”

My body moves before I know what I’m doing, but I barely get one step toward the front door before Jim’s hands wrap around my throat. My feet leave the ground, and I thrash in his grip, but I can’t kick him from his position behind me.

“You should have left well enough alone, Brett. What a shame,” he snarls, his tone indicating hedoesn’t find anything shameful about what he’s about to do to me.

Black spots line my vision as I claw at his wrists, but none of my efforts seem to affect him. My heart beats once, twice, and then the room goes dark.

And when the black swallows me this time, I am very, very afraid.

PART THREE

EXORCISM

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

GHOST

I stayed awayfor longer than I should have. My mistake is wholly apparent as soon as I step through the front door to find Rupert alert and standing in front of the entrance. It’s so different from his usual behavior that I go on high alert and proceed to check the house for anything amiss. When I step into the computer lab and find my father’s head lying on the floor, I know she’s gone.

My knees buckle as I struggle to breathe—the air in this house is no longer filled with delicate notes of Brett, but of acrid formaldehyde and death. I reach up to my face, prying the mask away with shaking fingers as I slide to the floor, my lungs still refusing to work.

She’s gone. Gone, gone, gone.

There’s a massive black cavity where my heart used to be, shooting tendrils of pain down to the marrow of my bones. It’s a deep ache, and if given the chance, I’d open my rib cage and claw out that cancerous part causing all thishurt.Rupert places his head in my lap with a whine, and I run my fingers through his fur, desperate to feel something—anything—-other than this pain.

I raise my head, fixing my eyes on the window and focusing on taking deep, even breaths. I’ve lost my mind—I know I have. And if I don’t find a way to dissociate from this sensation, I won’t ever be able to come back. My mind will fracture, splinter into a million tiny pieces, and I won’t have the will to glue them back together. Not again. Never again.

Something small and black catches the corner of my eye by the desk. It shoots across the room faster than I can blink, and I stay perfectly still when it lunges for me, sinking its claws deep in the front of my jacket.

“Venom,” I breathe, reaching a shaking hand down to his head, hoping a few appeasing pets will be enough to get him to release me. Venom lowers his ears, pointy white canines bared as he looses amighty hiss.What are you doing here?He seems to say.And what the fuck have you done with my mom?

I gaze down at the ferocious fuzzball, my hazy mind desperately trying to piece things together. Brett left Venom here—something she wouldneverdo if she was leaving for good. She loves the little asshole more than life itself, and the fact he’sheremeans she intended to come back. To come home.

Just as the ache in my chest begins to subside, I have the most horrible realization: she went to show someone the notebook. And if I know Brett, it’s the only person she mildly trusts apart from me—Jim Peterson.

In less than a minute, I have Rupert's Kevlar dog vest strapped tight, the saddle bags loaded down with all the ammunition and tools I’ll need. The things necessary to save Brett’s life.

“Come on, Rupert,” I call, fitting my mask into place before racing out the front door with the massive white dog hot at my heels. There’s a murderous gleam in his eyes as he jumps into the car, amplified by the slight snarl pulling his lips up, baring his throat-rippers to the world. I press my wrist to the dash, and the engine roars to life as I pull up the location of Peterson’s house. As I peel offinto the mouth of the forest, there’s only one thing on my mind.

God-fucking-dammit, Brett. You better be alive by the time I make it there.

This whole city burns if you’re not.

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