Page 65 of Ghosted in Arkadia
“At least you’re already dressed for your part,” Killian says, throwing a lab coat onto his shoulders and buttons it shut. He peeks into the hallway again, checking in both directions, before scooping me back into his arms. “I’ve got you now.”
We mix into the crowd of patients and orderlies, funneling our way out the front door. There is shouting, confusion, and panic. Using the dark cover of night, Killian continues to carry me into the shadows far past the lawn where everyone else huddles, waiting for the sirens to arrive.
“Where are you taking me?”
Killian looks down at me. His lips stretch into a crooked smile, but it looks sad. “To see your Ghost.”
A smile stretches across my lips. “Ghost is real.”
My head is pounding when I crack my eyes open. I’m sitting in a car, my head pressed against the glass of the passenger’s sidewindow. It feels like I was hit by a truck, but my mind isn’t wrapped in fog. It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to think a clear thought.
“Hey there, princess. Take it easy,” Killian says from the driver’s seat. His hands are on the steering wheel, manually driving.
I glance out the window and see nothing but a flat expanse of land, dotted with trees. Killian drives on a roadway, but it’s made from dirt rather than smooth paving.
“Where are you taking me?”
He doesn’t answer at first. His eye is trained on the path in front of him, his knuckles white from the strain.
“I gave you a shot that should help clear some drugs from your system, but it’s going to take time.” He glances at me, his gaze traveling over my entire body. “I’m sorry it took so long.” He looks back at the road.
“Where are you taking me?” I repeat, louder this time, though all that does is cause a bolt of pain to shoot through my head.
“I’m taking you to your Ghost.”
“So Ghost is real,” I say, more to myself while I try to reconcile what is real. My mind filters through the blips of memory from the last twenty-four hours. “Sorry I kissed you.”
Killian sighs. “You deserve some answers.” He takes a quick look in my direction.
“I don’t even know what kind of questions to ask at this point.” I groan, bringing my hand up to rub across my forehead. “We can start with who you are. How about that?”
“I go by Killian, but that isn’t the name I was born with.”
I nod my head. That isn’t all that hard to follow or accept.
“I’m sure you heard Bill call me Kalon.” He glances my way with a concerned look.
He’s testing to see what I remember. Or testing to see how well my mind is functioning after the past months of living inside purgatory.
“I heard Roman say a lot of things that night, Killian,” I sigh.
Every moment of the showdown at the warehouse feels burned into my memory. Even inside the fog from the drug cocktail the asylum pumped into me, I never lost the details of that night.
The edges of that memory never faded.
“I was born Kalon Ledger. My father was Anthony Ledger. The A.L. from your reports. The mad-scientist.” Killion stares ahead, as if he needs to concentrate on driving while the cab fills with silence.
I fit the information into my mind, disassembling parts of the puzzle I created with the clues I thought I understood. “And who’s Calvin Ledger?”
Killian sighs. “He’s my older brother.”
“Okay,” I say, trying to fit this piece into the narrative. “Are we going to keep with this tiny drip, or are you going to spit some shit out already?”
Killian looks at me, this time with a real smile. “There she is.”
“I’m fucking confused, not insane. Okay?” I wince, the excitement makes my headache attack with viscous spite. “And I’m in a lot of fucking pain,” I say, keeping my tone calm.
“I’m trying.” Killian offers, calmly. “There should be some painkillers in the glove box.” He gestures with his finger, and I sit up to look. “There’s just a lot, and I wasn’t sure what you were ready for.”
