Grays shadow, p.39
Gray's Shadow, page 39
part #4 of Kings of Hell MC Series
“You have no power here,” Fane said, and within the blink of an eye, he stood by the entrance, holding Elliot by the neck. Knight gave a choked sound when Fane produced a knife and buried in Elliot’s chest.
Gray stared, stuck in place, and watched Fane move his hand until he ripped Elliot’s stomach open and pushed his hand between the twisted guts. They made a horrible, sploshing sound, and then blood drizzled out of Elliot’s mouth.
“I’m taking him, and there’s nothing you can do about it,” Fane said before tossing the body through the door. When it swung open, Gray spotted Elliot outside, still pale as a sheet but alive and breathing.
Was this all an illusion?
Knight roared, but when he threw himself at Fane, his body flew right through him, and landed on the porch outside with a loud thud.
The door shut, and Fane was gone.
For a moment, Gray could only hear his own breathing, but then he saw Fane again. He was back on the stairs, gently leaning on the railing.
“And what about you?”
It took Gray a few seconds to realize Fane wasn’t speaking to him.
Shadow stood by the staircase, unfazed. “What about me?”
“Are you up for another game of cards?”
Shadow gave Gray a disoriented glance. “Would we be playing for the ruby?”
.“What ruby? Don’t you remember how I slit your throat open and it gushed all over the card tab—” Fane cocked his head as if he’d only now figured something out. “You should be dead.”
‘He knows only your body,’ Gray tapped against Shadow’s back in Morse code, barely able to breathe in this tense atmosphere. He was a man of action. He could deal with brutal fights, gunshots, he could stitch wounds, and disarm bombs. But this? He had neither the experience nor the means to deal with this kind of threat.
Shadow walked on upstairs, and Fane backed off at the same pace.
“I don’t know how you’re still here, but maybe it’s for the better. More fun for me!” The blood-stained illusion was getting more agitated as Shadow’s presence pushed it back upstairs. “Do you remember that I fucked you while you were bleeding out? Such a pretty man, and yet you have no sense of self-preservation.”
Gray scowled but followed Shadow upstairs, staring at Fane from behind his back. Fane had almost reached the second floor at this point, and he no longer seemed like a threat. Frustrated by the lack of reaction, he acted erratically, scowling and hissing at them while the frosty sensation gradually melted from Gray.
Then, the image in front of them stilled before falling to the floor in a cloud of dust.
Shadow turned back to Gray with a smile. “It was just an illusion. I can smell the ruby better up here. Let’s be careful.” He led the way faster now, and the wooden stairs squeaked under his weight, but Gray worried that they weren’t out of the woods yet. The cool sensation that receded when Fane lost his power was back, getting frostier with their every step.
A drop of ice cold water fell to his forehead, followed by another. Gray shuddered and stepped aside, briefly switching on his flashlight and pointing the beam at a wet spot on the ceiling above.
“Let’s be fast,” he said, pushing past Shadow on the way upstairs. The cold of the drops somehow spread over the back of his scalp, and then down his shoulders, making them stiff and freezing, as if he’d been standing in the snow for hours. But he knew it was just unease. There was literally nothing here that could physically harm them. A long as they paid attention to the quality of the wood under their feet, they would be fine.
The soothing sound of Shadow’s footsteps behind him was all the reassurance Gray needed. By the time he stepped into the second floor, the earlier unease was gone. Here too everything had been left eerily untouched. The carpet in the hallway seemed dusty, and there were cobwebs in the corners, but other than that everything remained in place. At least until Gray’s flashlight revealed damp stains shaped like foot tracks.
For the briefest moment, Gray stood still, breathing in and out as he convinced himself that Fane’s ghost operated on illusions. He wanted to scare them away from his domain by any means necessary. Some creepiness was to be expected.
When he stepped on the carpet, his foot sank in with a damp sound.
“It’s all soggy,” he whispered, sending vapor into the air as he followed the trail down the dark corridor, but further words got stuck in his throat when a weak voice had Gray follow the wet tracks all the way to a half-open door.
“Gabe? Is that you?” it asked, using a name Gray used to be called before his hair had changed color.
The chill that went down Gray’s spine was no illusion. He knew that voice. Rich and smooth, it remained a mirror of his own despite the raspy quality it had gained from years of smoking.
He couldn’t breathe at a normal rate, his lungs expanding only halfway when Gray pushed the door open and entered a simple bathroom with white tiles. With curtains obscuring the small window, it was the color of thick rain. Directly across from the door was a sink, and a small mirror, which showed Gray’s own face. In the weak light, the reflection was blurry, as if someone had smeared clay all over it.
Gray could no longer sense Shadow’s presence beside him, as if he’d somehow entered a different dimension where he was the only person left alive, the only source of sound in a vacuum.
“Hello?” he whispered, moving his gaze to the tub, which was partially hidden behind a shower curtain that seemed obscenely colorful in the hospital-like space. The same voice answered, rendering him motionless again.
"Anyone? Gabe? I'm so cold. Please, take me away from here…”
Gray stepped toward the tub on legs made of glass, and shoved at something that tried to pull him back. He didn’t need to know what it was, because what awaited him here was so much more important. So many nights, he’d lost sleep wishing for a chance to speak to Mike. Something he’d so many times both hoped for and dreaded.
When he pulled on the curtain with a trembling hand, the twisted leg was the first thing he saw. Submerged in blood-tinted water, Mike’s body shook, making the surface constantly tremble.
His limbs rested at angles so unnatural it made Gray nauseous, but he couldn’t look away, not when Mike’s hazel eyes met his. The scars on his face were still fresh, still bleeding, and when he shifted to sit in the tub, Gray spotted a gash at the back of his skull.
“You see all that water? My blood was so warm it melted the snow,” Mike said to the deathly silence.
Gray covered his lips, unable to turn his eyes away from the horrendous sight. Guilt had been anchored in his heart since the day Mike died, and now it would keep him grounded here. “I... I’m sorry. Can I do something for you?” he asked through the tightness choking his throat.
Mike reached out to him despite a fresh trickle of blood down his neck. “How can you still ask? Help me! I’ve been here for years, and I’m freezing. Always freezing. Whenever I hope to finally disperse into nothingness, there I am again. And you never came to help me! We’re twins. How did you not wake up when I called for you? How is it that you didn’t feel me dying?”
Someone pulled on the back of Gray’s jacket, but it was beyond Gray’s comprehension, and he swatted the hand away, locked in a bubble with his brother. He’d been dreaming of a moment like this since Mike’s death. A chance to say sorry, to console him, to say things he’d told Mike too rarely. Yet now that he was facing the broken body of his twin, his mind was empty.
“I’m sorry, Mike. I was tired. And I knew you were such a good rider. I’d never imagined anything happening to you. We looked for you, but we didn’t know where. I—”
“Excuses,” hissed Mike, shaking his head so violently blood from his head wound sprayed Gray’s face. “You’re probably happy I’m gone. Nobody can compare us anymore. Nobody will suggest you should be more like me.”
The words speared straight through Gray, and he stumbled against the wall, clutching at the painful spot over his beating heart. He used to be jealous of the ease with which Mike filled the shoes of what Rev considered a perfect young man, but he’d never wanted Mike gone from his life. “No… I… I love you, Mike. You always understood me like no one else in the world. With you I didn’t feel alone.”
The pull on his arm was insistent, but when he looked back and shoved, there was no one there, just blurry air that made the world appear out of focus, so he quickly turned back to what really mattered.
Mike leaned on the rim of the tub, a mocking smile passing over his features. “I bet you were sorry I was cold and dead before you got me drunk enough to fuck you.”
Gray stiffened with horror. “What? What the fuck, Mike?”
“No?” Mike asked, clutching at the tub and pulling himself up, his body blue from cold and blood loss. “Didn’t you think you could never meet a man who’d be closer to you than me? Just admit it,” he gasped, suddenly tipping over and sliding to the floor in a tangle of crooked limbs.
The cold water splashed Gray’s clothes, but before he could back away, Mike grabbed his ankle and crawled closer, rubbing his stiff body against the tiles. His flesh was somewhat puffy and wrinkled from being in the water for so long. When Mike pulled his front up, and the skin on his torso ripped like soggy cardboard, Gray at first didn’t believe what he was seeing, but once uncovered muscle came into view, Gray let out a choked scream. He frantically tried to pull the flap of skin back in its place, but Mike’s body was as cold as meat straight out of the fridge.
“No… I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you.”
“It was your fault. You should have stopped me. You should have been there with me, on the same bike,” Mike shouted, sending bloody spit through gaps left behind by knocked-out teeth. “We are one, and you deserted me. You deserted me!” he shouted into Gray’s face.
Gray broke down. Tears that had earlier been only a sting around his eyes, finally spilled, and he let out a choked sob, pulling Mike’s freezing body against his own. “You were the most important person in my life. I’m so sorry.”
“‘Were’? Already forgotten, am I?” Mike let out a bitter laugh. “You’ve moved on, instead of doing the right thing. You should have walked into that creek next to where I died and laid in the icy water until we were joined again.”
The cold where Mike touched Gray was so intense he could sense it all the way to the bone, so the heat at his back startled him so much he wasn’t sure anymore what was happening to him.
Mike’s frosty lips brushed his cheek, and his hands wiped away Gray’s tears. “But you can make amends. You can still join me, little brother. We can be one again. I miss you so, so much,” he whispered, pulling on Gray’s hand as he crawled toward the window.
Gray choked on air, but when he leaned forward, trying to follow Mike’s guidance, something hot grounded him in place. His brain was a chaotic mess, thudding with sounds made by his heart pumping and playing the image of Mike’s dead body on repeat.
When Mike stood and pulled away the curtain, his gaze returned to Gray. “If you go through with this, suffer like I did, I will forgive you.”
When Gray tried to join Mike, his vision blurry from the tears, something kept him in place. He moved his legs, but like in a bad dream, he couldn’t even walk an inch.
What was it that kept him immobile?
Mike’s face paled, suddenly devoid of any remnants of a smile. “You have a knife. Do not let him stop you,” he said softly, and Gray’s fingers immediately curled around the grip. But just as that happened, his brain must have lost some of the fog that had been keeping it confused.
Him?
Who?
Who?!
A voice as warm as the touch around his chest spoke time and time again, and the kiss to Gray’s ear felt as familiar as the pale face in front of him. “It’s not your fault, it’s not.”
“Only that it is, right?” Mike said. “You didn’t come with me, you slept through my death, and you didn’t have the guts to join me.”
It finally hit Gray.
He let go of the knife, and leaned into the warmth behind him. Mike would have never said any of that. This wasn’t Mike, and it wasn’t even his ghost. Even in death, Mike would have held Gray close and told him not to worry. Mike had been that way. He’d have preferred to take the blame for anything himself than expose Gray to consequences.
This was just a cruel illusion.
Breathless, Gray clung to the firm chest that slowly materialized next to him, along with the worry on Shadow’s face, and the warmth in his eyes.
There were so many things Gray wanted to live for. He needed to snap out of this trance.
“It’s not,” he whispered, suddenly enlightened. “I’m sorry I chose to stay home, but it was not my fault.”
“How about now?” Mike leaned into the open window. “Will you just stand there and watch me fall?”
But Shadow appeared more solid than ever, so real in contrast to the ghastly illusion. “Stay here, stay with me. We can leave if you need to, but you told me yourself. Mike was in an accident. You had nothing to do with his death.”
Gray shuddered and hugged Shadow, slowly getting up with his aid. With the icy water gone within a blink, everything he touched was so wonderfully material. “Y-you don’t have to fall,” he said to Mike, even though looking at the battered body of his brother caused him such endless pain, regardless whether it was real or not.
Mike sat on the window sill, and despite everything that happened, Gray’s first thought was to pull him back in.
“If you abandon me now, you will never even dream of me again,” the illusion threatened, but Shadow was there to hug Gray.
Warm and smelling like matches thrown into a campfire, Shadow was the only other living being in the building, and ‘Mike’s’ threats were empty.
Shadow nuzzled Gray’s head. “The real Mike will always stay with you.”
Gray took a deep breath and met the gaze of the illusory Mike, who crouched on the windowsill, facing them with blood once again rolling down his chin. He gave a choked sound and tilted back, reaching for Gray’s help.
Everything inside Gray itched to run and grab Mike’s hands, but Shadow was there to ground him. Still, even though Gray realized he’d been cheated, the sight of Mike dropping was now pasted to the backs of his eyelids. He turned in Shadow’s arms and buried his face in his warm chest. “Is it over?” he whispered.
“I think so,” Shadow said, stroking his back in the gentlest manner. “Please, Gray, tell me that you understand it was never your fault.” Time and time again, Shadow kissed Gray’s temple, standing there like the most tender rock. Warm, soft with moss, and always there for Gray to lean on.
Gray shut his eyes and nodded, hugging his lover back. Exhaustion flowed through him, but despite having to face Mike’s horrific injuries once more, he felt cleansed from the inside out. “He would have never blamed me. Never.”
Around them, there wasn’t even a trace of the ice cold water.
Gray stepped away but didn’t let go of Shadow’s hand. “Lead me to the ruby.”
Shadow nodded and pulled Gray into the corridor, which at this point was so dark Gray switched on the flashlight as they continued all the way down the passage, to the only door that was shut.
When Gray pressed on the handle, and it wouldn’t budge, he became certain he’d found what they were looking for. Shadow had no issue dismantling the basic lock, and they stepped into the dusty space preserved in the state it had been left in years back.
The light brown carpet was faded close to the windows, but as Gray moved his flashlight over the stripy wallpaper and an open closet full of neatly folded clothes, the illusion of a moment frozen in time became complete. There was even an outfit hung on a chair.
The owner had never gotten round to wearing it, because he lay dead.
Gray took a shuddery breath when he approached the bed where a skeleton lay in a set of pale pajamas, in the middle of a dark stain.
“Gray? Shadow?” Knight’s voice came from the corridor, approaching fast.
“Over here!” Shadow yelled, but Gray couldn’t turn his eyes away from the bed.
The dead man had no hands.
Chapter 27
Gray had seen many dead bodies, but there was something particularly disturbing about the untouched remains in front of him. Maybe it was the signs of fluids on the bed or the fact that they were likely the first to enter this room following the man’s death, but he felt compelled to stay silent when Knight came in hugging Elliot tightly against him.
Elliot was still pale as a sheet, but the moment he spotted the bed, his eye went wide as a saucer, and he backed out toward the door.
“Who are you?” Knight asked, closing Elliot in his arms and refusing to let him go.
Gray looked around, but in the end understood their friends had to be speaking to a genuine ghost. Unlike the illusions, Gray couldn’t see anyone by the bed.
“Who is it?” he asked softly, following his friends’ eyes.
Knight swallowed hard, his lips open, brows drawn together in an expression of worry. “He’s… I think that’s the dead guy from the bed.”
Elliot, who curled up under his arm, watched the skeleton, but he no longer seemed terrified. “Yes, we can see you. And hear you for that matter.”
With a yelp, he turned right back into Knight, and Shadow threw his arms up. “What’s going on? I can sense the ruby here, but I can’t see it. Is he hiding it? What does he want?”
Knight groaned. “He says he will only talk if all of us can hear.” With a soft sigh, he kissed Elliot’s nape. “Can you do that, babes? I promise I’ll rip his soul in two if he dares to do anything you don’t want.”
Elliot usually acted smug at the clubhouse, basking in the protection of his VP boyfriend, but there was nothing brave about him now. Pale, holding Knight’s hand, he reminded Gray of a skinny cat being put out into the rain.
“But take care of me, please. I don’t know how powerful this ghost is.”
