Page 21 of Freedom
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The Eldorado had barelystopped—Jake hit the brakes hard enough to throw Tobias forward into his seat belt, the flat edge cutting into his neck—before Jake grabbed salt and the shotgun from the backseat and bolted for the house. “Stay here!” he shouted over his shoulder, then ran toward the screaming without another look back.
Tobias froze, eyes locked on Jake’s back. He could hear a younger voice now too, probably the son, Liam, screaming, “You let her fucking go! You let her go!” But even those screams, clear enough that Tobias could understand the words, were overwhelmed by a man’s deep, spectral, half-mad laughter.
When Jake reached the door, he barely broke his stride to kick it in.
Tobias had always known that Jake ran into danger fearlessly, without hesitation. Even without his stories about casually risking their necks against vampire nests and in spilled-beer bar fights, Tobias would have known that someone as good and brave and determined as Jake wouldn’t flinch from a threat.
It only took Tobias half a second (during which his hands were already unlocking his seat belt and reaching for the door handle) to realize he would follow him, always.
When Tobias rushed through the broken door, he was in time to see that Jake had just fired on the ghost point-blank, scattering his ectoplasmic form into sickly green motes of light, while the widow, Margie, blinked up at him, arms wrapped around her son. She was so far in shock that when Dead Eddie flickered back into view behind Jake, her eyes didn’t even track him, didn’t give Jake even that much of a warning before the spirit slammed him into the wall with one energy-ridden punch.
Dead Eddie went in for the kill, the heavy ring on his right hand morphing into something like a claw as he pulled back his fist, a nasty smile curling his lip, and Tobias didn’t have time to slow down. He grabbed the iron poker from the scattered remains of the fireplace.
Too hard a swing would unbalance him; too easy would give the ghost time to dodge the blow and go on the offensive. Tobias weighted it just right to swing it through the ghost’s head, and the ghost fragmented as the cold iron passed through his insubstantial skull.
Jake had pulled himself to his knees, dragging the shotgun onto his lap, ready for the next attack. Tobias glanced down at him just as Eddie vanished while he shifted the poker to a more comfortable grip. Jake could have been angry or want Tobias ready in a particular spot—he’d told him to stay, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t have an idea of how best to use Tobias now that he had disobeyed—but what he saw in Jake’s face made him almost drop his weapon in surprise.
Relief, gratitude, and amazement shone from his eyes. And when he saw the weapon in Tobias’s hand, he only smiled wider.
Tobias looked away quickly, his heart beating fast.No one had ever looked at him like that before, and he didn’t know exactly what it meant, but he was sure at the very least that Jake was glad and not angry that Tobias had disobeyed him. It had never felt good before to break the rules. He was shaking from that look, from the crown of his head to the tips of his toes, and that had nothing to do with fear.
He was almost thankful for the distraction when Eddie reappeared, sliding his hamlike hands around Margie’s neck and squeezing. Liam shouted and began beating at his father’s ghostly grip. His hands, flying straight through the ghost, only ended up striking his mother again and again while the monster grinned until his mouth was impossibly wide with laughter.
Tobias had never been allowed actual weapons at FREACS, but he had practiced this lunge at least a few hundred times. The poker slid through the ghost’s chest, missing Margie’s cheek by bare inches.
“Holy shit, tiger,” Jake said, twisting the cap off the lighter fluid he carried in his back pocket. “Can you hold the bastard off while I torch the floor?”
“Yeah.” Tobias caught movement out of the corner of his eye and spun, slicing the ghost through the legs before he could fully materialize.
Jake dumped the fluid, premixed with salt, liberally over the floor and then pulled out his backup lighter.
The ghost snarled and dove at Jake, shrieking like an enraged banshee, sweeping up picture frames, lamps, and books that followed his charge like broken boats drawn after a tidal wave.
There wasn’t room to get the poker up, not without hitting either Jake or the civilians. Tobias threw himself between Jake and the monster without a second thought. If his death could save these civilians, if it could save Jake, then it was utterly and unquestionably worth it.
Eddie’s ugly grin was wide enough that Tobias could see his cracked, yellowing molars splitting and sharpening, like he was a shark that could erupt new teeth. Tobias gasped at the impact of the ghost’s hands, first over and thenintohis chest—burning cold inside him like being half-drowned in ice water, clawing at muscles and nerves, not just lungs, passing through his essence, searching for his staccato heart.
The fingers found what they were looking for, locked through the lattice of his ribs, andclosed.Tobias shut his eyes.
And then Jake lit the bastard up.
Heat flamed against his chest, warmth flooding him like feeling coming back into hands bruised and burning from the cold. He opened his eyes in time to see Eddie scream one last time, crinkle like wax paper held to a flame, and disappear.
For a second Tobias hung in space, neither warm nor cold, not up or down. Just as he realized that he was tilting, that he wouldn’t be able to balance himself, strong arms wrapped around his waist, a warm chest braced his back, bringing him back to balance.
“Toby, you okay?” Jake tucked his head toward Tobias’s ear, and Tobias could hear the worry in his voice, could feel the tension in his arms.
“I’m fine,” Tobias said, ready to be dropped. He was safe, he was fine, and Jake didn’t need to stay just because Tobias would feel cold again without Jake wrapped around him.
To his shock, Jake’s hands tightened. He took a deep breath, right where Tobias’s neck and shoulder met. “You did great,” Jake said. “I mean it, you were a goddamntiger. And I’m fucking glad that bastard—”
“Jake, the fire,” Tobias said. Flames were clawing their way through the center of Margie Womsley’s home.
“Shit. Yeah.” Jake let go and stepped away from him. That was different, utterly different from being pushed away. Tobias shivered slightly, but it wasn’t something bad. “Yeah.”
Jake dragged an already ragged curtain down from its broken rod and began stamping on the fire while the civilians huddled together and watched with wide eyes. Letting out a long breath, Tobias finally relaxed his grip on the poker.
