Page 7 of Delinquents Turned Fugitives
Even the possessed Andros couldn't stop his body from lifting off the ground. The magical drug infused his system just like it did ours. He rose with me, his hand still latched loosely around my throat, until he got his bearings. Then he started to squeeze again. Apparently, ghosts didn't... didn't make... immune to Bubble...
My thoughts and vision started to wink in and out when my father finally appeared.
He glanced around, confused.
But his presence made me shove back some of the cloudy cotton-candy fluff that Bubble was stuffing into my brain. It made me try to shove a little against Andros’ hands. My heart fell when I saw Dad’s expression, though. Was this one of his bad moments? I really couldn't afford for his afterlife amnesia to hit just then. I needed him.
I was just about to give in to the blackness and accept my fate as a failure when Dad jumped into the air, remained floating, and put his hand on top of Andros' hand—actually, he sunk his own ghostly fingertips through Andros' hand and pried the huge man's fingers away from my throat.
I sucked in huge, pained gulps of air before Andros' hand clamped back down on me so hard that my entire spine went rigid and slammed into the ceiling.
Dad's expression darkened and he dropped Andros’ hand and shoved his way into Andros' body through the muscled mobster's left side.
Only—that pirate bastard was already in there.
I watched as the ghost with the scar was shoved halfway out of Andros' body before he dropped a shoulder and barged in after my dad. Each of them ended up with their legs and feet outside, dangling in midair, while they grappled inside his torso, their ghostly elbows popping through his chest every so often. I couldn't directly see them when they were inside, possessing him, but I did witness Andros start to shake uncontrollably, grunting as his body became a battleground.
Fuck! I reached up and tried to loosen his grip on my neck, so I could think, and maybe help.
Claude had another plan for me though.
My asshole stepfather created a sword out of ice. And though he was floating slightly, he inhaled a lot less Bubble than the rest of us. He was more clear-headed. It was also obvious that he had practiced for this moment. He came here tonight knowing exactly what he planned to do and how he planned to do it.
He swung his sword through the air and landed a blow on my arm, slicing through my black, fireproof shirt and deep into the meat of my bicep.
Rage and bile filled my throat and gamma radiation formed again in my palm.If no one else was here, I could so easily take him out.I wouldn't care that I'd end myself in the process.
Fury and pain burned away the remainder of Bubble’s effects and I sank slowly until I merely hovered off the ground. "Get that door open!" I yelled to my guys, not caring about stupid door handles. Malcolm could freeze the fuck out of it and kick it down for all I cared. There was no way we'd sneak out undetected now. It was all simply survival. I yanked the vial out of the pouch in my shirt with my uninjured right hand and hurled it through the air at Z, shouting, "Think fast!" just as Claude's second sword stroke started toward me.
It felt like time slowed as I watched Z's hand close over the vial then turned my head to see Claude's sword heading for my neck. At the very last moment, Dad leapt out of Andros' body like a ninja and spun in midair. He came down on Claude's wrist and yanked it so that the blow hit lower and was off balance—it became a glancing one instead of fatal.
It still hurt like a bitch. My left side felt like I'd deliberately run into traffic and been hit by a car. I crouched where I floated, three inches from the floor, gasping, and grasping that side.
Claude roared and raised his sword again, but this time my dad didn't settle for smashing into his wrists. This time, Dad dove inside Claude's body.
Dad's actions made the pirate ghost leap out of Andros and join the struggle; Claude writhed in midair like a snake, his body twisting and contorting unnaturally.
A hand yanked me backward and I looked over to see Andros, chest heaving. The huge man threw me through the air like I was an acrobat. I flailed wildly, though the Bubble didn't let me face-plant—it sent me barreling right into Gray, who flew backwards and smacked against the wall.
Our feet touched the ground as the effects of Bubble wore off. All around us, other feet scraped and tapped against the pavement. "Sorry." My apology for whacking Gray came out as a croak, my throat still recovering from the near strangulation.
He shook his head, his eyes not even focused on me, but over my shoulder.
I turned to watch as Andros reached out his huge, muscled, tattooed forearm and grabbed Claude’s neck, just like he had wrapped up mine. Then he smashed Claude into the wall behind him so hard that I could see Claude’s skull crack like an egg.
My vision blurred as the ghosts fled Claude’s form and started to tussle midair. But then Andros reeled back and the hulking man smashed my stepfather’s head again. Then double speed. Then the gory scene repeated in slow motion and I saw every drop of blood that flew from Claude’s head. Andros used his Tock power to reverse time … to make Claude die again and again and again.
“Andros!” Z called to his cousin. “That’s enough!”
I held up a hand to tell Z to leave it alone.
A hundred deaths were the least that bastard deserved.
