Page 19 of Ghosted in Arkadia
“How many?” I ask James as he heads back toward the door leaking smoke. I faintly hear pounding, like loud bass rumbling deep inside the building.
“It’s a tiny but mighty hive. Should be five. We’ve got the exits covered. Two in the truck means three more to grab. Smith and Jason are inside,” James says before ducking inside, and I scurry to catch up.
I need to get at least one.
The floor is covered in at least three feet of smoke from a smoke machine in the corner. Beams of light cut through the fog, and the lights above flash in different colors.
“Is this supposed to fuck with us, or make us want to dance?” I yell at James’ back, and he shrugs before leading me deeper into the warehouse.
He opens the door to the stairwell, and music blasts through the opening from a speaker on the wall just inside.
“Well, that’s annoying,” I say, covering my ears as we ascend.
We come to the door of the first floor and encounter another blast of music coming from a speaker attached to the wall. James motions he will take the first floor while pointing up with his finger as a suggestion for me.
I roll my eyes and flip him off, and he smiles before slipping through the door. I take the stairs two at a time, knowing I am nearing the next floor when the music gets louder. Stepping onto the second floor, my ears ring, and I pull my gun from my holster as I make my way down the dark hall.
A door ahead to my left opens, and a person dressed head to toe in black emerges. They walk with an unrushed purpose. Something that looks a lot like a laptop is under their arm, close to their chest.
“Stop,” I bark, aiming directly at the back of their head.
“Hello, kitten.”
The hairs on my arms stand at attention when I recognize the voice of my soulmate. My body freezes in place, gun still aimed at him with my finger on the trigger.
He turns slowly, but it’s hard to make out his features in the dimly lit corridor. I squint, focusing down the length of the barrel, only to realize my soulmate is wearing a mask. It’s black with a skull hand painted in white on the front. The area where his eyes should be is nothing more than bottomless black sockets.
I can feel him staring at me.
My arm drops, and I holster my gun.
Every ounce of me wants to launch into his arms, but the sound of pounding music snaps my head to the side as I check the stairwell. Nothing. Turning back, I find an empty hallway. My soulmate disappeared as though I had imagined the entire encounter.
“Fuck,” I swear into the dark. My entire body is on fire, and I don’t think there are enough breathing techniques to calm the storm brewing inside me.
I rush through the floor, kicking down every door I come to. If he goes for the stairwell, I’ll hear it.
“I know you have a thing for ghosting me, but don’t you think this is getting a bit much?” I say before arriving at the next door and lift my leg. The door swings inward with my kick, bouncing off the wall before shuttering back in my direction.
People love to skimp on interior doors.
“Maybe that’s what I’ll start calling you. Ghost.”
I lean into the room. Lights blink from computers and other equipment atop tables, forming a maze. I take a few steps in, checking the corners before getting a sense of the layout of the electronics towers. Fans inside the machines blow the faint smell of hot dust as I creep close to get to the back of the room. A door sits in the corner, and I go over to it.
I can tell by looking at it that this is not the type of door I want to kick in and go for the handle instead. It turns, and I push it inwards. It’s a bathroom. I step in and turn to face a mirror, my face barely illuminated by the glow from the computers filtering in behind me.
A face appears behind my reflection, the face of a skeleton. Arms surround me the moment fear spikes in my veins. A hand clamps over my mouth while the other tightens like a visearound my waist, pulling me into a hard chest. He crushes me to him while I struggle until, eventually, I come to a stop.
I can feel his chest heaving against my back with every breath he takes. My chest is heaving too, and I fight around gloved fingers for more air. He slides them down to my throat, and I watch in the mirror as he bends to whisper in my ear.
“Thought it would take a little more to tame you, kitten.”
“You look like the type that likes it when they squirm,” I say, doing the opposite and melting into him in defiance.
His grip on my throat tightens, cutting off my ability to speak while I struggle again for each breath.
“Actually, I like it best when they scream. Are you going to scream for me, Kira?” He loosens his grip. “Nice and loud for all your fellow officers to hear now, kitten.”
