Page 87 of Revenant

A few remind me of burn victims, their skin melted and their flesh charred. With no lips to cover their teeth, their smiles are macabre. Another one shuffles forward, a large cut down the center of his body, his intestines trailing behind him. A third one has claw marks slashed across his face, the wounds so deep that bones peek through. The edges of the wound are ragged, and I swear the injury still oozes blood. The orbital socket is mangled, the eyeball dangling by a fleshy cord.

Then there are too many.

Five.

Eight.

Twenty-three.

I lose count as they push forward like a relentless horde.

The guard gapes at them in wide-eyed horror, and his arm drops to his side. When one pushes out of the wall only inches away from him, he leaps away like a cat that was just bit by a mouse. The gun comes up, and he rapidly fires as two, three, and four more ghosts appear behind the first.

When the gun clicks over and over, the bullets gone, he shakes his head and stumbles over his own feet as he scrambles to escape. “Fuck this shit. I’m out.”

He doesn’t even spare the doctor a glance as he disappears out the door at a dead sprint.

Sue and her men are spooked, but Mabel is wearing a vengeful expression. Her arms are crossed, and she doesn’t even blink when she sees the ghosts, probably because she was one of them not too long ago. She’s glaring at Hershamn like she wants her own pound of flesh.

When the guards’ blood-curdling screams echo down the hallway, no one goes to investigate.

Crystal practically clings to the guys, hiding behind their broad shoulders, her eyes wide as she gazes at the others with horror. Recognition of what’s happening flashes in her eyes, and her ghostly form wavers in and out of focus as she shakes her head in denial.

Then she blinks out of existence, as if trying to outrun her fate.

What is the meaning of this?Hershamn barks with an imperious tone, stepping protectively in front of Ruthie, though I’m not sure it’s intentional. He shoves his glasses farther onto his face, studying the approaching horde with a glare.

I huff in annoyance when I can’t sense even a speck of fear from the asshole. Instead, he surveys the ghosts like they’re something to study. I suspect if he had my ability, he would raise the dead to study and kill them over and over in some sick, twisted quest for answers that humans are not meant to know.

“The meaning?” Ruthie says with a rasp, clumsily stepping away from the bed. “You didn’t save me, Albert.”

Hershamn twists to face her, careful not to take his eyes off the horde, and pats her shoulder condescendingly.Not now, Ruthie. Let me take care of business, then we can talk.

He’s so focused on the others that he’s oblivious to the real danger. The ghosts aren’t keeping their distance because of him, they’re holding back because of her.

They’re giving her time to say her peace.

Or get her revenge.

Dark shadows swirl around her body, more and more gathering with each second. Unnerved, I reach out to the closest person—Gunner. I grab his shirt and drag him farther away. He nudges the others, and we slowly draw back until we’re at the far side of the room.

The ghosts pay us no mind, slipping around us to surround Hershamn. While part of me wants to flee, the ghosts deserve to have someone witness what they have suffered.

Not to mention, I refuse to leave without knowing Hershamn’s fate.

He can’t be allowed to go free.

He knows too much.

He will only begin his experiments over again, and I refuse to allow that nightmare to continue. No one should have the power to decide someone else’s fate. He’s been allowed to run amok for too long and ruined too many lives. He needs to suffer the consequences of his actions.

Ruthie’s pupils dilate until both eyes flash black, her body so filled with the afterlife that it can’t be hidden anymore. Knowing I have more resistance against the afterlife, I shuffle in front of the guys to shield them.

Not surprisingly, Jameson wiggles through the group until he’s pressed against my back. He sighs at the contact, his shoulders wilting, and he leans down to kiss the back of my neck.

“Sneaking off again, pookie?” He chastises me in a gruff voice, then nips the same spot he kissed, and I shiver at the warning.

“Never,” I vow, leaning into him and peering at him over my shoulder. “I made a promise to you, one that I intend to keep.”

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