Page 40 of Challenge Me

The difficulty with proud creatures was that they could be drowning and still consider calling for help a more humiliating way to die. I understood it better than anyone. I was a proud creature too.

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The garage was colder when I finally returned. My bare feet made almost no sound against the concrete as I pit-pattered across the floor, my blankets piled beneath one arm and pillows balanced against my chest. Ghost sat exactly where I had left him. No lights. No shadow. No indication that he had noticed me. I approached the driver’s side and reached for the handle, feeling its heavy clunk under my fingers.

Ghost’s shadow erupted from the driver’s seat, his cold hand locked around my wrist while the other grabbed the inside of the door, holding it shut. He was still fragmented, but I could see him through the glass: broad shoulders, a hard jaw, and icy eyes burning in a face that looked carved from smoke.

“Ghost.”

His grip weakened. For a second, we stared at one another, his gaze traveling over me as though searching for evidence of an intruder before recognition settled in. He released me immediately, and the shadow vanished from the driver’s seat as the door unlocked with a subdued click.

“A touching welcome,” I teased gently as I opened it, rubbing my wrist. The dashboard remained dark. I leaned into the cabin. “You didn’t actually think I’d leave you, did you?”

Silence. That was answer enough, really. Should I have been offended? Did Ghost really think I would just leave him alone?

Men. I scoffed to myself and collapsed the driver’s seat forward so that I could climb into the backseat. A 1970 Dodge Challenger had many admirable qualities, but a comfortable mattress was not among them; I hoped he at least appreciated the sacrifice I was making for him.

I arranged the pillows against the side of Ghost’s interior, spread one blanket beneath me and pulled the other over my legs. “I promised I would return,” I reminded him.

A faint blue glow appeared in the rear-view mirror, then disappeared.

The locks clicked. Not locking me out; locking me in. I settled more comfortably into the lumpy backseat.

Ghost did not appear.

I knew better than to summon him. Grief made ordinary kindness feel like an interrogation, and every attempt at reassurance sounded suspiciously like an instruction to recover faster. But I wasn’t going to leave him alone with his pain. Not now, not ever again.

“I don’t know precisely what John was to you,” I began; the rear suspension shifted beneath me.

“…But he was yours,” I continued. “Come here.” I curled up, holding my arms out—an invitation.

For a few moments the Challenger went perfectly still, and I thought he might reject me completely before a shadow formed between my arms, the edges of him sinking into my chest. Barely solid, but still holding together. My arms folded around his shoulders, one hand moved slowly across his back, passing through shadow before settling against the leather seat beneath us.

“I know what it’s like,” I murmured.

“You do?” His first words to me sounded wary, challenging, disbelieving. I knew he wanted me to admit I had no idea how he felt; I understood the need for grief to be unique, too enormous for another person to understand. If someone else had survived it, then perhaps he had no excuse for falling apart beneath the weight.

“I’ve lost plenty of people I loved.” My fingers combed through the darkness at the back of his neck. “Some deserved mourning. Some deserved considerably less.” I paused, judging the silence between us, weighing Ghost’s shame and his rage carefully. “But I also know a way to make it hurt a little bit less.”

It sounded like a lie, and I knew it. A promise I couldn’t possibly keep.

Ghost’s eyes narrowed, the pale glow illuminating the cabin. How could anything lessen this?

I could read the doubt on his face. John was dead. There was no replacement part. No amount of labor could restore what had been destroyed.

“Revenge,” I declared calmly.

“Revenge?” Ghost was staring at me, as though the suggestion was out of character for me.

I smiled as I nodded. “I’m not the kind of person who will try to talk you out of it. Taking the high road, letting go, forgiving?” My lip curled at the thought. “That is advice given by people who have never had the strength to collect what they are owed.”

Despite everything, a weak sound escaped Ghost. Almost a laugh. Cupping his face between my hands, I drew him closer. “Forgiving is weak. You don’t have to do anything to forgive; you just have to wait until you get too tired or too old to stay angry. Revenge is different.”

My thumbs swept under Ghost’s rapt eyes, gently stroking his face. “Revenge is how you return the suffering to the sender.”

Ghost did not look away. He was mesmerized; the weak glow of his eyes was glacial, switching from the defeated low of his fog lights to high beams, making me feel like I was basking in a frigid spotlight. I had my audience’s attention.

“You and I will avenge John,” I vowed. “We’ll find the people responsible. We’ll make sure they can never do this to anyone else.”