Page 163 of American Hellhound
Roman let out a low, animal sound of pain, teeth flashing as he grimaced. “Oh shit. Oh fuck. Ohshit.”
“He doesn’t know what I’m about to do, though,” Ghost said, and felt the touch of Roman’s gaze across the distance between them. “You with me?” And he wasn’t just asking about now, this party and this plan. He was asking both of them to come over to his side, to realize the horror of their situation and join the movement toward a better future.
“I am,” Collier said.
After a long moment, Roman nodded. “Yeah, I’m with you.”
~*~
Maggie had never been upstairs in Hamilton House. If possible, it was more derelict than the first floor. With the windows boarded, and with far less foot traffic than the first floor, spiders had multiplied, and mold had proliferated in all the dark corners – and there were many of them. The smell of damp was pervasive up here, corrosion and rust mixed with a faint whiff of death.
Stephanie stood along the balcony, where the air was fresher – relatively: the stench of smoke and sweat and drink filtered up from the first floor, along with a warm splash of light and the pounding of the music. She had her back to Maggie, facing her friend Maureen, and she was crying, her sniffles audible even from a distance.
“I…I just…” she hiccupped.
Maureen patted her arm, face an overdramatic pout of sympathy. “I know, sweetie, I know.”
“Like, how could anyone do that to me?” Stephanie whined, bursting into sobs.
Maureen put her arm loosely around her friend’s shoulders. “She’s just jealous,” she soothed. “Like, totally jealous.”
Maggie took a step forward and the floorboards creaked. The music was muffled up here, and both girls heard the sound, turning to look at her. Stephanie, she could immediately see, wasn’t actually crying, her eyes dry, the sounds just for show.
“Oh my God.” Stephanie made a face when she saw Maggie. “Who invited your lame ass up here?”
Over her shoulder, Maureen made a similar face. Maggie was convinced all the popular girls at her school practiced the same disgusted facial expressions in the mirror together.
Maggie said, “I heard my mom was trying to make trouble for you.”
“Bite me,” Stephanie hissed, and turned around.
She wasn’t sure what she’d hoped to accomplish by coming up here. Well – that wasn’t true. She’d hoped she could head any further retaliation off at the pass. She didn’t think Ghost would be willing to paint her car again. But she didn’t know why she’d thought she’d make any headway.
She guessed she had to try, though.
She took a step closer. “Steph, look, I know you hate me, and to be honest, I hate you. But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry my mom’s stirring shit up. You stirred shit up first, so I guess it’s only fair–”
Stephanie turned back to face her, glowering.
“My point is, whatever your mom’s mad about, just deal with it. You don’t want to start anything else.”
“Are you…are you threatening me?” she asked, incredulous. “You stupid biker whore.”
“Yeah,” Maggie said, evenly. “I guess I am. But also, your reputation isn’t in tatters yet, not like mine. Whatever your mom’s mad about will blow over. So don’t blame it on me, okay? And don’t touch my car again.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll kick your ass for real this time.”
Whatever Stephanie was about to say was lost to a sudden shout from below as the music cut out.
~*~
Ghost wanted to get this whole houseful of kids away from danger. Sure he did. He wasn’t a monster. But there was only one he actually cared about, and he was on a mission to find her.
Collier killed the music and there was a collective roar of protest from the partygoers. There were at least a hundred of them, maybe more, friends and siblings and hangers-on. Most were drunk or on their way to being there, glassy-eyed in the dazzle of Christmas lights, calling for the music to come back on.
Ghost whistled. Once, sharp. Cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Hey! Listen up!”
