Ghostwriter

Chapter 9

Alright. I've got nothing against superheroes. The Bats alone have saved my home so many times that they could probably announce that they're the new dictators of the world, and every nonelite, legal citizen of Gotham would just go with it. I would.

I'm not quite sure Red Hood counts as a Bat. I didn't even know he was a Bat, to be honest. I don't care what symbol he wears; I don't even really care that he kills criminals so long as it doesn't affect me; however, the guy's a freakin' mob boss. He controls drug trade. Shouldn't he be fighting that?

I don't want Colton to grow up around all the drugs that I encountered in school. It's not impossible to stay clean in school, but's it's pretty hard when drug dealers entice you with free first time offers between every period. I managed, but most people that I knew tried something at some point. Some died from it.

So, when the Red Hood crawls through my window at three in the morning and shakes me awake, it's safe to say that I would have done a whole lot of screaming if not for the fact that he jams his hand over my mouth before I can inhale enough air to do so.

My wide-open eyes flit over to Colton. He's alive and breathing, good.

Red Hood holds up a finger to where I assume his mouth should be (the helmet makes it hard to tell). "I've been looking for you. Or really Oracle has, but that's not the point."

I've been looking for you. No, he's dead, and no spark shot up my spine, or any other sign of soulmates. It's just fate being cruel, because this entire situation clearly isn't enough.

I scramble to get my mouth out of his grip. He holds my head down. "Promise not to scream? You've got a sleeping baby."

My eyebrows furrow and I stare at him. I have a wanted criminal in my apartment who's making creepy statements. I have a wanted criminal in my apartment!

I'm going to scream. He sighs.

"Fine, then. Anyway, just wanted to inform you that you're under my protection until we can stomp out Transfuse or whatever." Stomp out—he's with the other Red. Oh.

Nope, nope nope nope nope nope. I wanna talk to Red Robin. I'm not keeping company with a mob boss when I'm supposed to be protecting a baby. I would object to being baby-sat, but since I have Colton I'm more inclined to be ok with something small. An alarm system, sure. I don't need the freakin' Red Hood, however.

"Still gonna scream?" I shake my head. I might yell at him, but I won't scream. Yet.

He lets go of my mouth, and I sit up and rub my eyes. I lower my hands and peer at Red Hood. He crosses his arms.

"Who in their right mind would make you my protector?" I swing my legs over the bed and stand to face him.

Red Hood freezes and takes a couple steps back, but then recollects himself. His shoulders drop. "I've been wondering when I would find you."

"That's not an answer!" He's not even...ugh! I brush the hair back out of my face. I snatch the baby monitor up and clip it to my waistline. I rub my forehead. "Get out of my bedroom. We can't talk in here."

That's not the complete truth. I just can't see him in here. Colton's a heavy sleeper, and talking won't disturb him. Turning the lights on may be pushing the limits, however.

I walk past him and flick the light on in the main-room. He follows me, shutting the door behind him with a soft swish. He does a double take when he sees me.

"What's on your shoulder?" He looks at the scar like it's an alien; and since I'm wearing a grey tank top, my scarred soulmark stands on full display.