Ghostwriter

Chapter 24

I shiver. My new dress is soaked in the boy's uncle's blood and probably some of my own. Various low-lying twigs and thorn bushes made grabs at my ankles, leaving them scraped up. I have no jacket, and it's November in Gotham and we're out in the middle of the forest. I've never been in the woods all my life. Closest I've come is Gotham Park or a Poison Ivy attack.

You know that scene in Snow White? Where she goes into the woods and freaks out?

Yeah, that's me. Except the animals don't feel friendly, they just feel loud. Every sound makes me jump.

My feet ache as the boy and I push on, and I'm grateful that I rejected Barbara's stilettos. These small heels are killing me as it is.

The boy and I stop to catch our breath by a large oak. Despite the cold, I kick my shoes off. I lean against the oak.

The boy looks at me with wide eyes. "Who are you?"

I hum in response. "Someone who doesn't know what the heck they're doing. You?"

The boy grips his knees. "Uh, Daniel Reeves. Why do they want you?"

"Some friends and I kinda put a dent in their business." A large, gaping hole, actually, if tonight's any indication. My lips flutter into a grin.

"So, this is your fault?!"

My eyes snap open. "What?"

Daniel's eyes burn into mine. "They said they came because people were pulling their stock out because of bad rumors. You spread the rumors. My uncle died because of you!"

"I..." He's not wrong, I realize. If I hadn't spoken up in my fury and grief, his uncle wouldn't be lying down dead in his own blood.

"Why? Why would you do that?" Daniel's voice raises, and his eyes well up in tears. He plops down. "I'm not moving until you tell me."

I sigh and glance in the direction we came. A cold breeze wafts by us, chilling my bones. It's super dark because the trees block out most of the starlight. I can barely see Daniel. I don't hear the fight, or the gunshots anymore. Just the hoots of owls and the chirping of crickets. I'm not sure which is worse.

I pat the ground until I find a mossy root to sit on. "Let's keep our voices down, ok? We don't want Transfuse to find us. I'll tell you if you keep quiet."

Daniel doesn't comment, he only glares.

I look of at the canopy above. The oak tree still holds onto its old brown and yellow leaves, even after all this time. "Transfuse is a cult. It's been growing for years, maybe decades. No one really knew about it, so no one knew the danger in it. They don't normally... well, they've never done something like this before, so I didn't think..." I gesture with my hand.

"Usually, they stick under the radar and silence their ex-cultists. My sister... she was one of them. They killed her and her husband. But my mother always encouraged us to journal, you see. So, when my sister died, there was still a record of it all that Transfuse didn't know about."

The boy gasps. A weight falls on my shoulders. "I guess... I guess I thought if I published those journals... then more people would stay away. More lives would be saved. No one's sisters or mothers or brothers or fathers would have to die at Transfuse's hands."

Daniel frowns. "Except people did die. You didn't end them, or save lives. You just forced them out of hiding. You forced the innocent to die with the cultists."

I forced the innocent to die with the cultists.

Daniel's face contorts and his lips pull back into a snarl. "Your sister was one of them! She's wasn't innocent like Uncle Harry. She deserved to die, but Uncle Harry didn't. This is all your fault! I hate you. I hate you!"