She glanced back at Nolan. Was that pride filling his eyes? “Fifty bucks says you throw up again,” he said.
“You’re on.”
Nolan’s approval shouldn’t have meant as much as it did. He pushed a few buttons on his cell and brought the phone to his ear. The echo of ringing sounded as he turned and walked out of the bathroom. When she went to follow, Bastian stepped in front of her. He touched her cheek and brought her head up. Her gaze lingered on his mouth, and she forced herself to meet his eyes.
“Are you sure about this? I can set you up in Nolan’s office. There’s a couch in there. You could get some rest.”
The image of Bastian’s strong, lean muscles clenching as he pounded into some faceless woman filled her mind, and she recoiled as if she’d been slapped. “Like I want to sleep where you and your brothers fuck all your…women.”
Bastian opened his mouth. At the last second, he closed it and nodded.
“As long as I don’t have to deal with the body, I’ll manage. Cleaning will probably make me feel better,” she said.
“All right, then.”
She brushed her shoulder against Bastian’s arm as they walked out of the bathroom. She stopped next to Nolan, looked up at first one man, then the other, and finally at the mess before them. As one, they surveyed the damage. Blood dripped down the walls and pooled on the hardwood floor in coagulated clumps. She poked it, and the gelatinous blob jiggled.
“What do you think?” Nolan asked.
Bastian listed, “Shovels, bleach, peroxide, trash bags, a mop, and a couple of buckets should be good. Gloves if you have them.”
Morgan frowned and tilted her head back to look up at him. “That was a quick list. You do this sort of thing often, Detective?”
His gaze met hers. “I do what needs to be done.” Something dark filled his eyes. Memories? Had he done this a lot over the years, cleaning up after Ronan? Bastian walked to dead body and crouched next to it.
Indeed, Morgan thought, and got to work. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the men wrap the body and then the head. Separately. Her stomach roiled, but she focused on the task of shoveling blood into buckets.
Rory showed up at some point. He distributed food and caffeine, neither of which she could stomach. The first hour turned out to be the worst. The scent of ammonia, rotting flesh, and oleander burned her nostrils. Once she lost the ability to smell, the urge to throw up faded. She scrubbed the walls with bleach and used a peroxide mixture on the scuffed wooden floor where the blood had seeped into cracks.
The hours went by, and the aching in her muscles made her arms feel like little more than overcooked spaghetti. Bastian, Rory, and Nolan distracted her with stories from their travels. As the chemical fumes killed brain cells, each tale became more outlandish, a tad bit more destructive, and a lot more hysterical.
No matter the story, one thing was clear: Rory got them into trouble, Bastian bailed them out, and Nolan was their constant. Together the brothers were a self-sufficient unit without outside influence. She looked at these three men, who’d all been horribly abused but still managed to love each other. When Rory looked over at her and winked, she felt…accepted. It was almost as if she were part of their family.
After several hours, exhausted and covered in filth, the four of them collapsed into the few unbroken chairs tucked around a now immaculate table. The floors shone, the walls gleamed, and just like that, nothing had ever happened in the bar, except for maybe a robbery, considering half the tables were missing.
“Anyone up for a drink?” Morgan asked.
“Hell, yes,” Nolan said.
“Does a bear shit in the woods?” Rory replied.
She pushed off the table, but Bastian pressed her back into her seat. “I’ll get it.”
“Get the good scotch from my office,” Nolan called, and Bastian changed directions.
From across the table Rory and Nolan stared at her.
“What?” she asked and unrolled the long sleeves she’d pushed up.
Nolan’s jaw looked tight as if he were clenching his teeth. He drummed his fingers on the table, and it was the only sound in the awkward silence. The middle Hale brother spoke, and Morgan thought that maybe the fumes had done permanent damage.
“He loves you.” From the way Nolan growled the word love, Morgan got the impression he’d rather eat worms than see his brother in love.
“Exactly what I was thinking,” Rory said. His full, beaming smile was a direct contrast to the scowl Nolan wore. What had crawled up his ass?
Beyond words to describe how uncomfortable this conversation—and Nolan’s glare—made her, she started picking at her wrinkled sleeve. “He said no such thing.”
Rory grimaced and glanced down at a scar on the table beneath his fingers. “We haven’t seen him smile in years. He even laughed.”
When he looked back at her, Morgan could see in Rory’s eyes the pain and fear haunting the youngest Hale brother.
“You shouldn’t be telling her this.” Nolan’s voice was gruff, the look he gave her a blend of relief and resentment.
Rory ignored his brother. “Bastian’s been numb for a long time. Going through the motions. Existing but not living. He works. Eats. Sleeps. He feeds to feed, that’s all. His women don’t touch him, and he only touches them enough to get the job done.”
She glanced to the employee doors and wished Bastian would come back sooner rather than later. “I don’t really want to know what he does with other women.”
“He wasn’t going to give you details,” Nolan said.
Rory’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “Sure I was. You know he only fucks them doggie style so he doesn’t have to see their faces? Ronan fucked Bastian up more than the rest of us.”
Nolan glared at Rory until his mouth closed. He looked at her. “I’m only going to say this once. If you stick around—and that’s a big if at this point in time—and you fuck him over, I’ll kill you.”
Nolan leaned back in his seat. His gaze moved to where Bastian walked out from around the corner.
She didn’t know what to say, so for once in her life she stayed silent. Bastian walked up to the table, a bottle in one hand and four short tumblers in the other. The glasses clinked onto the table. He sat down next to her, and the subtle brush of his shoulder against hers had her gaze rising to Nolan’s to see if he noticed.
Nolan stared at her long enough for Bastian to look between them with a furrow in his brow.
“Problem?” he asked and pulled out the elaborate stopper on the bottle.
“Yeah, you aren’t pouring quick enough.” Nolan broke their silent staring contest by grabbing the scotch. He filled their glasses and set one in front of each of them.
Bastian picked up a cup and rolled it between his hands. He looked at his brothers across the table. “We can’t stay at the apartment, not until I can get it fixed up. Morgan did a number on the place.”
She threw up her hands. “Oh my God, I said I was sorry!”
Under the table, Bastian pressed a hand on her thigh. He trailed his palm down to her knee, then back up to her thigh. Warmth pooled in her belly, and she remembered all the nondoggie-style positions Bastian had taken her in earlier that day. Distracted, she almost didn’t hear Rory when he replied.
“You two take my apartment, and I’ll stay with Nolan,” Rory said.
Bastian nodded.
The four of them clinked cups, and Morgan took a gulp of her scotch. Fire raced down her throat. She sputtered and banged her closed fist on the table. Nolan and Rory burst into laughter. When she flipped him off, Bastian’s laughter joined the chorus.
“I hate you guys.” She coughed.
Bastian threw his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. She turned and glared. He ruffled her hair. “Come on; let’s go get cleaned up so we can finally get some sleep.”
A mischievous gleam shone in Rory’s eyes. He leaned across the table and ran his finger around the rim of he
r cup. “Morgan, for the sake of saving water we can shower together.”
“Fuck off.” Bastian pressed his palm to the middle of his brother’s forehead and pushed Rory back.
Morgan moved closer to Bastian and brushed her mouth to his ear. She tried to ignore how sensitive her breasts felt against his arm. From the corner of her eye, she caught the glimmer of a soft smile touch Rory’s mouth.
“You know,” she whispered. The hand Bastian had on her thigh tightened. “Rory might have a point. Maybe you and I should save some time and water. The sooner we are clean, the sooner we can go to bed.”
She hadn’t even finished her sentence before Bastian rose from his chair, grabbed her hand, and pulled her to her feet. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Twenty
Bastian pulled his car to a stop at the parish graveyard Father Xavier wanted him to check out. That had been two weeks ago. He glanced at Morgan through the rearview mirror as Rory all but shoved her out of the passenger-side door. Apparently, Bastian wasn’t the only one who’d known she was going to have a tough time with this trip to the cemetery since she’d been infected with Ronan’s nightmare.
Morgan stopped two feet away from the large rusted cemetery gate and bit what was left of her nails. The urge to pull her into his arms and comfort her was overwhelming. He looked up to the layer of gray clouds thinning in the wind, and tried to rein in his sappy-ass feelings. Facing one’s fears was important, something she needed to do in order to move beyond her ugly memories.
Against his will, his gaze found Morgan again. A gentle breeze stirred the air, and the crimson hair not quite long enough to fit into her ponytail drifted across the profile of her face. Every day she got a bit more beautiful. She shifted from one foot to the other, and her unease transferred to him.
“I don’t think I can do this.” She spun away from the gate and got about three steps in the direction of the car before he caught her around the waist.
He pulled her struggling form into him until her back lined his chest. He loved the way her tight little behind fit perfectly against his cock. “Come on, babe, don’t be such a girl,” he said, hoping to lighten the mood.
“I am a girl, you jackass.” She fought to dislodge the arms he wrapped around her middle. “You can’t make me go in there. I’m not ready.”
“It’s been two weeks since the spell. You gotta face this sometime. That sometime is now.”
He turned Morgan around and used her ponytail to tilt her head back. Kind of like how he had used it this morning while he fucked her slow and deep. Her response to him touched him deep inside and made him want to never let her go. He pressed his lips to hers. Once. Twice. When he pulled away, she lifted on the tips of her toes and cupped the back of his head to guide his mouth to hers again. He slid his hand from her waist to her ass and gave her exactly what she wanted.
“Are you two done?” Nolan asked, the annoyed tone of his voice one Bastian had been hearing a lot of lately.
The grating sound of the opening gate had him untangling himself from Morgan. He stepped back and steadied her with a grin. He’d smiled more in the last two weeks than he had in an entire lifetime. That thought was terrifying, crazy, wonderful, and unnerving all at the same time. He’d never intended on settling down with anyone. His sudden connection with Morgan, a woman who didn’t judge him, didn’t expect anything from him, left him hopeful about the dismal future he’d once planned for himself.
Nolan shook his head. “Walk away from your woman, Bastian. We’ve got shit to do, and watching you two make out, again, isn’t one of them.”
Walk away? Hell no. Set her on her feet and get to work, maybe.
“Hate to say it,” Rory added as he adjusted the black duffel bag slung over his chest and walked past them, “but he’s right. These ghouls aren’t going to banish themselves, and, Morgan, you need to learn this. Remember what happened last week when I snuck you into the morgue?”
Bastian fought the laughter when he saw the scowl on Morgan’s face. “You aren’t going to let that go, are you?”
“You did raise all the bodies on ice,” Nolan piped up, his tone as amused as Rory’s.
Rory grinned over his shoulder. “The look on your face when the guy on the examination table popped up and grabbed your arm was priceless. And you scream like a girl.”
“For the last time, I am a girl.” She picked up the raven pendant around her neck and pulled it back and forth on its chain, a nervous habit she’d developed. “What is a ghoul exactly, anyways?”
Rory shuddered. “Ghouls are nasty creatures. They eat corpses, which is just gross. Depending on how big the pack is, they can devour an entire graveyard in a matter of days.”
Bastian nipped Morgan’s ear before whispering, “In addition to birds, Rory is afraid of ghouls.” He grabbed her hand and laced their fingers. Jolts of sensation traveled up his arm and straight to his cock.
Morgan smiled up at him with a twinkle in her eye. “And what, is there like some hotline people call and you guys come out like the Ghostbusters?”
A few feet ahead of them, Nolan stopped walking and did a visual search of the old, decaying grounds. He didn’t turn to look at them when he spoke. “Father Xavier knows what we do. He keeps a few feelers out and lets us know where the dead have been disturbed.”
Nolan’s shoulders stiffened, and Bastian narrowed his eyes on him. He handed Morgan off to Rory and crossed the distance until he was at his brother’s side. “What is it?”
“I can’t put my finger on it. It’s…too still here. Something is off.”
“Ronan?” Bastian peered through the darkness and saw nothing except gravestones of various sizes and heights protruding from the ground. In the shadows, he traced the looming outlines of ghosts writhing in the fog. Wind blew through the trees, and the limbs creaked. The dead leaves littering the ground scratched across countersunk gravestones.
Nolan closed his eyes and inhaled. “There are too many scents, too much death to pinpoint. I guess I’m just suspicious. You might have fucked Ronan up, but he’s always healed quickly. I don’t trust this silence. It doesn’t make sense. Two weeks with no dead bodies. No notes. Nothing. It’s like he just vanished.”
“Maybe he’s dead,” Rory said. “Or maybe he decided to go fuck with someone else for a while. Surely he hasn’t killed every single necromancer on the planet yet.”
“No.” Bastian shook his head and rubbed the center of his chest where Ronan’s ever-present evil slithered though his veins. They were of the same blood after all. “We’d know if he were dead. And you didn’t see his face after he got hit with our magic. He wouldn’t leave, not yet, not without his pound of flesh. Let’s get this done.”
He couldn’t shake the niggling worry that he might not be able to protect Morgan, that one day his father would take him over and force Bastian to hurt her. The closer he got to Morgan, the more he worried about his ability to make rational decisions. Never in his life had he worried about anyone other than his brothers.
They walked through the cemetery’s hilly grounds as a group with Morgan in the middle. Ten minutes later, deep inside a thicket of overgrown trees and moss-covered mausoleums, they found what they were looking for. The stench of rotted flesh filled the night air. Morgan froze beside him and cupped her hand over her mouth and nose.
“Wait for it.” Rory wiggled his eyebrows and slung an arm over Morgan’s shoulders.
Morgan leaned her head on his shoulder, and Bastian clenched his teeth. He fought to push away the sudden stab of jealousy. Morgan was the only female friend Rory had ever had. While he appreciated the fact his brother found comfort in something other than sex, it still made Bastian want to punch him.
The black, billowing clouds in the sky separated. Moonlight revealed the skeletal remains littering the embankment riddled with holes. White bones starkly contrasted the darkness. Seven naked figures crawled on all fours, scavenging. The ghouls looked like a macabre cross between dog and
human. Their long, pointed nails sank into the fleshy corpse they crowded around. They tore skin from bone with a sick, wet slurping sound. The creatures snarled, snapping elongated jaws while they devoured.
Unaware of their presence, the things continued to consume until the body was nothing but bone. Together they moved the few feet to the next grave. Dirt flew. It took only minutes before one large beast disappeared into the hole and dragged out a rotted body. The pack swarmed.
Bastian reached into his jeans pocket and withdrew a vial of clear liquid. “Showtime, babe.”
Morgan kept pace with him while he fixed his gaze on the ghouls. “Tell me what you want me to do.”
“That’s my girl. We’ll herd them together by walking a circle. We sprinkle holy water on the ground with each step. Circles keep things in, and they also keep things out. In this instance, it’ll keep the ghouls from running away once they realize we’re going to send them back to ground.”
“Are these things a type of zombie? I mean, they’re dead, right?”
“Ghouls are creatures, kind of like wraiths, that have the ability to take a corporeal form once they gather enough energy. Murderers, doctors, butchers, anyone who routinely spilled blood while they were alive are likely to become ghouls. They call each other from the graves and gather to form a pack.”
“Wraiths?” She eyed the two ghouls who started down the embankment toward them, and inched closer to his side. “Will they attack us? Their nails look…sharp.”
He popped the cap on the vial. “Depends on if they feel threatened.”
“I hate you,” she murmured.
Bastian hooked an arm around her waist. He pressed his lips against her ear, and he reveled in her full-body shiver. He whispered, “That’s not what you were saying last night when I had you naked and cuffed to the bed. I’m pretty sure it went something like, ‘I love you. Fuck me harder. Yes. Yes. Yes.’”
“You’re a jerk,” she said and pushed away from him.
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