Page 4 of Delinquents Turned Fugitives
I heard thundering footsteps behind me. It had to be the guys since I was still so close to Claude and Ginny.
But none of my crew were Darklights. They couldn’t see the full spectrum of light the way that I could. My guys couldn’t see the ghost. They didn’t know about that threat yet.
I opened my mouth to warn them. But then I felt a frozen hand touch my shoulder and sink beneath my skin.
Cold flooded my veins and I shrieked as I felt the ghost enter my body. It was like sliding into a bathtub full of ice cubes and getting shoved into a contortionist box all at once as my consciousness was crammed into a tiny corner of myself.
“Hailstorm!” Evan yelled, his voice tight with concern as he caught up to me. “What’s wrong?” My brother’s best friend whipped me around and, as he did, I saw Andros’ huge fist shatter Claude’s nose with a punch that sprayed blood like a garden hose. The old bastard slid to the ground, not just to his knees this time—he face-planted on the cement floor.
Good. I hoped the asshole got brain damage.
“Hey!” Evan pulled me toward him again as Andros turned to Ginny to do the same thing to her. The huge man’s chest heaved with anger. Older and bigger than the rest of my crew, Andros was also hardened. He’d done real time. He knew exactly what we’d face if we got caught, which is why, even though he clenched his jaw and grimaced at the thought of hitting a woman, he still raised his hand—
But my legs shot forward—faster than I’d ever run in my life—and my body swooped in front of the bitch just in time for Andros’ giant fist to connect with my face instead of Ginny’s.
Pain sizzled through my nerves like lightning bolts.
Holy shit!
I watched shock and regret register on Andros’ face. His square jaw tightened and his normal frown got even darker. “4-H?” he asked.
I didn’t respond. I just attacked him—because I’d become a puppet on a string. The ghost inside my body swung my fist at Andros, connecting with his ribs.
The huge man was a wall of muscle and barely grunted, but it felt like I fractured my knuckles. My eyes watered and a little whimper escaped. I wanted to collapse in pain, but the ghost had other plans for me. The ghost swung my leg in a roundhouse kick that Andros caught. My teammate held me, leg aloft, and stepped closer, his hips between mine, his deep-set blue eyes flickering over mine; his expression asked what was going on without words.
I tried to shove my mouth open, I tried to shout an answer, but the ghost clamped my jaw shut so quickly that my teeth hurt.
I batted at the bastard inside my brain but he just snickered and my insides grew even colder, goosebumps rising on my skin.
Behind us, Ginny chortled as she shot me a knowing look and a wink before she blasted UV light at the others on my team, blinding them so she could bend to check on Claude.
I heard Evan gasp in pain behind me as she gave him the most brutal intense sunburn, but I couldn’t look back to check on him.
From the shadows, I heard Malcolm call out my nickname, “Shakespeare!”
The ghost wouldn’t let me turn my head, he just lit my hands up with UV magic and tried to burn a hole in Andros’ face with the pale blue magic.
Thank fuck Andros was quick enough to bend my hands down and let the light shoot harmlessly toward the floor—I could have blinded him, burnt him, hurt him irreparably. My thoughts were a whirl of fear and fury. The sensation of being possessed weighed me down like an anchor. It felt hard to breathe—it felt like I was under the waves: my body was swollen, lungs filled with seawater instead of air, about to burst.
Fuck.
I couldn’t say any of that. I couldn’t scream, couldn’t warn the guys, couldn’t explain myself. When I struggled to speak again, the ghost slammed my teeth onto my tongue until I could taste blood. Then he yanked my body out of Andros’ hold and walked stiffly back to Claude’s side to protect the bastard from a new attack by Gray.
Gray’s wind stopped when my body blocked Claude, whom Gray had been blowing toward the far wall.
A cold that resembled brain freeze traveled over my mind as the pirate-ghost-man whispered inside my head, “I own you.”
Of course, that set off every fight instinct I had.
I tugged at my limbs and tried to force my eyes closed. I wasn’t strong enough for that. My eyelids merely twitched, even though it felt like I was throwing my full body weight around, yanking on a giant red velvet theater curtain and trying to shut it. But my consciousness was tiny and my body felt so impossibly huge.
The ghost just chuckled inside my head and batted me away, like my will was a gnat, annoying and insignificant.
God dammit.
Clearly, I couldn’t fight him head on.
I tried to change my approach. If he thought I wanted control of my head, I’d try something different. My consciousness raced from my face down toward my hands, which the ghost had filled with light magic and directed at the guys. He was draining whatever was left of my natural power faster than a hooker drained a dick. I was nearly out and that made me panic.
