Ghost Heart (The PSS Chronicles #3)

by Ripley Patton

  This one had meant something to someone, too. Plus, it looked so forlorn.

  I picked it back up.

  “Where did you come from?” I asked, turning it over and watching the blue answer triangle slowly emerge from murky darkness to bump up against the glass.

  Better not tell you now.

  Oh, yes. How could I forget? The thing had twenty vaguely useless answers and none of them were going to help me get Jason back.

  I stuffed it in my oversized jacket pocket anyway and resumed following the obvious trail the CAMFers had left me.

  4

  PASSION

  I was back in the woods now, following a path of beaten down brush and broken branches. The CAMFers certainly weren’t trying to hide anything. I could barely hear the river now, but I knew it was on my right, and I was trekking parallel to it and upstream, back toward the scene of the Eidolon. The terrain surrounding me seemed vaguely familiar. Were we back as far as the cabin already? Maybe. Based on the slant of the sunlight through the trees, I was guessing it was early afternoon. At this rate, we’d be back at the pool in half the time it had taken Jason and me last night.

  I stopped for a minute and pulled out my water bottle. The purification tablet had dissolved. Had it been twenty minutes yet? Close enough. I gulped down half the contents, hoping it was supposed to taste gritty and stale, and resumed my trek. Shortly after that, the signs of the CAMFers passage seemed to disappear, and I had to backtrack a little and try several rabbit trails before I found it again, the boot prints faint but there.

  I stood for a moment, contemplating how this was all going to end when I arrived wherever they were leading me. I didn’t have a plan. I had been moving on blind faith and pure desperation. Still, despite everything, I felt calmer and less afraid than when Jason and I had been running away. That didn’t make sense, but there it was.

  After maybe another half an hour, I stopped to pee, and I took the time to eat and drink, depleting the last of my stores. With the empty water bottle and the purification tablets, I could source more water from the river if I had to. And presumably, with some skill and the fishing kit, I could catch food, and fillet and cook it with my handy knife and matches. Unfortunately, I had no such skill. There was simply no way I was going to make it in the wilderness on my own, or make it back to Indy by myself.

  So, I got up and headed down the CAMFer-blazed trail once more, listening carefully for man-made noises in the distance ahead, scanning the terrain for the cliffs I knew would soon rise up on my right. Surely, I was close to the pool and Devil’s Drop by now.

  Then the trees suddenly broke open in front of me and I was there.

  To my right was the river, gushing over rocks and into a pool I barely recognized. It looked different. Really different. Gone was the tranquil blue water of last night. The huge logjam that had made up the upper rim of the pool was gone as well. No, not gone.

  The logs had just moved. They’d been pushed right over the top of the rocks and were now jammed at the bottom end of the pool, making it deeper and wider.

  The rocks we’d left Olivia on weren’t even visible. They were under the new water line.

  And what about Marcus? Could he have survived all that turmoil?

  God, let him still be alive. Please.

  I glanced around, but I didn’t see any CAMFers. Or Jason. Didn’t hear any signs of anyone or even a hint of the terrible deeds wrought there the night before. The water and the clearing around it looked completely untouched and serene. It was surreal, like the horrors I’d so recently experienced had only been a dream, a figment of my imagination. And where were Jason and the men I had been following? I was standing right on their trail. I could see their footprints mixed with mine. They had definitely come this way, but maybe they’d kept going. But to where?

  I raised my eyes, tipping my head back so I could see the top of the cliffs.

  The pool might have transformed overnight, but Devil’s Drop rose, mighty and unchanging. Up there, the CAMFers had come and mowed us down with their gunfire. We’d had no option but to jump. No choice but the questionable kindness of gravity and water. I could hardly believe I’d plunged from that height, pinned in Jason’s arms and the grip of my own panic. But we hadn’t fallen because Jason’s leg had manifested its power. I wasn’t even sure exactly how we’d gotten down—I think I’d blacked out—but I suspected Marcus and Olivia had pulled us. Whatever had happened, we’d all landed in the pool together—I knew that much—the cold smack of the water bringing me back to myself just in time to stop Olivia from following Marcus down into its murky depths.

  Jason had a power, and we hadn’t talked about it. Honestly, I hadn’t even thought about it since then. I guess we’d just been too busy trying to survive. But if Jason had a power from jumping off the cliff, did I?

  I pulled up the right sleeve of my jacket, my strange purple veins standing out against my pale skin and the crisscross of pink scars. Was my blood different now? Did it have some miraculous quality it hadn’t possessed last night? Samantha had claimed the Eidolon would give us power. Power like she and Marcus and Olivia had.

  “You there,” a voice called from behind me, slamming be back to the present. “Turn around slowly with your hands up.”

  I lifted my arms, making sure my empty hands could be seen from behind me as I turned slowly to face the eight men I’d been following for hours.

  Jason’s grim, disappointed face peered out at me from their midst.

  Somehow, I’d gotten ahead of them. That possibility had never entered my mind. It must have been when I’d lost the trail. Maybe they’d veered off somewhere and I’d barreled right past them. But then how could their boot prints be under my feet? Unless they were someone else’s.

  “Who are you?” the leader asked, coming forward with his gun lowered. “Were you up there?” he lifted his gun a little higher, pointing at the cliffs.

  I whirled away, ready to run, but he grabbed my arm.

  “Hey, it’s okay. We’re not going to hurt you.”

  I turned, looking up into his eyes, expecting to see the lie.

  “We’re from The Hold,” he said. “What’s your name?”

  I glanced at Jason, confusion warring with disbelief. If these guys were from The Hold, then we were saved. Unless telling me that was just a trap, a ploy to get my guard down.

  Jason’s eyes drilled into mine, warning, cautioning me, but he also gave the slightest nod of his head.

  The man holding my arm didn’t miss the exchange. “Do you two know each other?” he asked, looking from me to Jason and back again, his grip on my arm tightening. “What’s your name?”

  “Passion,” I croaked, tears stinging in my throat and behind my nose. “Passion Wainwright.”

  “Come with me.” It wasn’t a request. It was a command. “Mr. James will want to talk to you immediately. Both of you,” he said, pulling me by the arm into the clearing.

  “Mr. James is here?” I asked, relief and skepticism battling it out as I tried to catch up with this amazing turn of luck. “You guys aren’t CAMFers?” What was wrong with me? My legs didn’t seem to be working. I stumbled, almost falling to my knees, and I would have if someone hadn’t been holding me up. The woods were spinning, dancing around me and coalescing into a black tunnel.

  “Are you all right?” the guy’s voice called, but I was already gone, falling into cool peaceful darkness.

  * * *

  I came to slowly, black matte not-sky above me, smooth leather beneath my hands. I wasn’t outside anymore. I was inside, but not in a building.

  “She’s coming around,” Mr. James’s familiar voice said. “Give her some water.”

  “Here, take a sip.” The head of an older blond man who was not Mr. James swam over me and I felt his arm slip behind my shoulders, helping me to a sitting position. “You’re a little dehydrated.”

  I lifted a shaking hand to the glass he was holding to my lips, and our fingers touc
hed. When I’d drained the whole thing and propped myself up against the seat, he moved away and sat back staring at me. Mr. James was staring at me, too. But the two of them were intently NOT making eye contact with each other, waves of tension roiling between the two of them. These two men did not like one another. In fact, I’d have wagered a guess they hated each other. So, why were all three of us in the back of a stretch limo together?

  I was sprawled across the longest bench seat with the blonde guy on the bench across from me. Mr. James was on the shorter seat on the end, hunkered over the drink in his hand. He looked haggard and haunted as his eyes settled on me.

  “Passion, this is John Holbrook,” Mr. James introduced the other man, his voice grinding on the name as if he’d like to reduce it and the man it represented to a fine powder. “His son Luke was up on those cliffs with you last night. Mr. Holbrook and I are going to ask you some questions about what happened, and it’s crucial you answer us thoroughly and honestly.”

  “Where’s Jason?” I asked, peering out the limo windows and instantly recognizing the parking lot of Shades State Park. It didn’t look much different than it had last night, most of the cars parked right where their owners had left them. Of course they were. No one had come back to drive them home. There were some extra vehicles now too, several military looking trucks and a couple black-windowed SUVs. The spot where Renzo’s Mercedes had been was empty, but I could see a team of black-clad soldiers going over the Porsche that Yale, Jason, Marcus and Olivia had arrived in. The doors, trunk, and hood were all open and they were taking out the seats.

  “What are they doing?” I asked, turning back to Mr. James. “Where’s Jason?” Some unknown fear rose in my heart.

  “He’s safe,” Mr. Holbrook assured me. “I promise you. No harm will come to either of you. But there are kids missing, a lot of them, and that boy refuses to say anything.”

  “Can you tell us what happened?” Mr. James asked, leaning back, his eyes scanning mine. Something about his bleak calmness compared to Mr. Holbrook’s barely-masked desperation terrified me.

  “Is Samantha—did she—” I couldn’t even ask it.

  “My daughter is in critical condition after suffering a gunshot wound to the head,” Mr. James said.

  “What?” I blurted. No. That couldn’t be. Olivia and Marcus had said Samantha had gotten away safely. Maybe she’d been shot after they’d seen her? Oh, God, at least she was alive. Critical condition was bad, but it was still alive. “What about the others? Renzo and Juliana? Eva and Lily and Dimitri? Are they okay?”

  “Renzo and Juliana are safe,” Mr. James said. “They were the ones who got Samantha to Indy. With her injury so severe, the fact that they didn’t linger here probably saved her life. But, for that reason, they couldn’t tell us much of what happened. I’m afraid everyone else is still unaccounted for.”

  “Did you see my son Luke?” Mr. Holbrook asked, lunging toward me. “Did you see what happened to him?”

  “John, take it easy,” Mr. James said, putting his hand on Mr. Holbrook’s shoulder.

  “If you were in my position, would you take it easy? ” Mr. Holbrook snarled, shaking off Mr. James’s hand and turning on him. “We’ve lost our children thanks to you and your carelessness, and here you are protecting a boy and girl who very well could have had something to do with it. Aren’t they a part of that feral group Renzo said showed up last week? Who’s to say they didn’t tip off the CAMFers—”

  “That’s enough,” Mr. James growled, grabbing the other man’s shoulder again, and this time I could see his fingers squeeze, digging in, as the two of them faced off.

  The back of the limo was suddenly a tiny, cramped vessel of raging testosterone.

  “We all want to find them,” Mr. James said. “And I will. I promise.”

  “No, you won’t,” Mr. Holbrook said, like it was a threat, removing himself from under Mr. James’s hand once again. “You had your chance, Alex, and you threw it away. You’ve thrown away your chance at a lot of things.”

  Mr. James went perfectly still. He looked at Holbrook, his eyes cold and hard, glinting like shards of broken glass. I had never seen a look like that before, so full of pure malice, like a dangerous predator backed into a corner who has nothing left to lose.

  He’s going to kill him. He’s going to club him to death with his drink glass and I’m going to have to sit here and watch.

  But Holbrook glanced away, back at me, pretending he hadn’t glimpsed his own murder in Mr. James’s eyes. “Did you see my son?” he asked me again. “Do you have any idea where he is?”

  “I’m sorry.” I shook my head. “I have no idea. There were so many people and I didn’t know most of them.”

  I tried to feel sorry for the guy. I really did. I mean, I could understand his distress, but calling my friends and me feral, like we were stray cats, and blaming us and Mr. James for what the CAMFers had done seemed a little extreme. It didn’t make me want to kill the guy, but it didn’t exactly warm my heart toward him either.

  “You didn’t find him up there?” I glanced out the window toward the cliff. “So, that’s good, right? That means he might still be alive.”

  They both stared at me like I’d said something odd.

  “The only thing we found up there was a little blood and a few bullets,” Mr. James said softly. “The area has obviously been intentionally swept clean of evidence.”

  “Which is exactly why we need some answers,” Holbrook insisted.

  I looked from one man to the other, a horrible realization dawning over me. They had no idea. They hadn’t seen the bodies and pools of blood. The CAMFers had spent all night sweeping the area clean with their helicopter and troops. Mr. Holbrook thought he wanted me to tell him what happened, but he really didn’t. He didn’t want to know his son was probably dead, mowed down by random bullets. And I certainly didn’t want to be the one to tell him, given how mad he was just thinking Luke had been taken. How could they not know? Samantha had been shot in the head. What did they think had gone on after that? Hopscotch and tiddlywinks?

  “Passion, I know this is difficult,” Mr. James said gently.

  “I think it’s obvious by now the two of them were in on it,” Holbrook interjected. “We caught them on the run and the boy has been more than uncooperative. Now she won’t even—”

  “They shot my friends in the back,” I said, staring at the man, my rage overwhelming any sympathy I’d ever felt for him. “They came up the stairs and ambushed us. They threw tear gas and shot into the crowd. Some people jumped off the cliff. Many of them drowned, floating in the water with their robes and blood spreading out around them.” My voice broke and I felt the tears welling up in my throat. “Your son Luke might have been one of them.” I stared into Holbrook’s pale face. “Or maybe they took him. But mostly, they killed people.”

  There was a moment of silence while they both stared at me in horror. Then Holbrook put his head in his hands, moaning, “God, no.”

  “John, I’m sorry,” Mr. James said.

  “Sorry?” John Holbrook choked on the word. “You’re sorry my son is probably dead? Fuck you, Alex. You let this happen. You allowed your spoiled daughter to play at this Eidolon thing and now everyone is paying for it except you and her. But you will pay. I guarantee it. You’re no longer fit to lead The Hold. Everyone knows it’s what the new council will decide. I will make sure of that.” He pushed past Mr. James to the limo door and shoved it open. When he was clear of it, he slammed it shut so hard the entire vehicle rocked back and forth.

  I watched out the window as he stormed up to one of the groups of soldiers and started barking orders. Then John Holbrook pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and made a call.

  “I knew that wasn’t going to go well,” Mr. James said, drawing my eyes back to him. “I didn’t want him to sit in on this interview for that exact reason, but he insisted. Now, unfortunately, you and I have very little time. Passion, did you see who shot
Samantha?”

  “I—no—I wasn’t anywhere near her when it happened,” I said, more confused than ever. Was Mr. James even the leader of The Hold anymore? Because it sure didn’t sound like it. Samantha had never mentioned The Hold having a council. And if Mr. James wasn’t in charge, where did that leave Jason and me? Holbrook had practically accused us of inviting the CAMFers to the Eidolon. “Jason and I decided not to jump,” I went on. “I didn’t want to watch and he wanted to guard the stairs. So, we hung back in some bushes.”

  “Guard the stairs against what?” Mr. James asked.

  “Against CAMFers,” I said, surprised it wasn’t obvious. “Jason had been feeling paranoid all night. Well, really, he feels paranoid all the time, but he’s also frequently right. Then, he thought he heard someone on the stairs. He told me to stay down and he went to check it out. I couldn’t see much from where I was hiding, not the stairs or the people jumping. And then there was a gunshot. And screaming. And smoke.” I heard and saw and felt it all again, as if it were a high definition video and me the narrator. “Before I knew what was happening, they were everywhere. They were shooting into the crowd. Jason came running back and grabbed me. I don’t know how we made it past them, but we did, and we found Marcus and Olivia.” I looked down at my hands and was surprised to see them trembling.

  “You found them alive?” Mr. James asked, a hopeful catch in his voice.

  “Yeah. But Olivia had injured her knee, so Marcus was carrying her. Then Marcus said the only way to escape the CAMFers was to jump. And I didn’t want to, but Jason grabbed me and we ran toward the cliff.” I didn’t have the words to tell him about Nose and Yale. My mind veered away from it. “The CAMFers were getting closer, but we made it to the cliff, and Jason and I jumped first.” My mouth and lips had gone dry. I could barely squeeze the words from them.