Page 41 of Ghost Hunted

“Fine. Fifty-one percent.”

“Quill…”

“Please, Piper.” I cut into her squabble with Quill. “We need to do something. He’s unconscious and he’s lying in the dirt. We can’t just wrap him up with a bandage. We have to disinfect it first, and…”

“I just don’t remember anyone ever using gasoline to disinfect wounds in any of the mystery books I’ve read…”

Quill snorts. “That’s because Nancy Drew doesn’t do wounds.” He winds one of her curls around his fingers distractedly. “If she did, I’m pretty sure she’d use gas.”

“How the hell do you know?” huffs my daughter. “It’s not like you’ve ever read any Nancy Drew books!”

“Nancy Drew, hmm?” Despite the seriousness of the situation, I can’t help but smile at my little girl. “Is that what you read?”

“Uhm, a long time ago.” She blushes bright red, her splotchy face looking exactly like mine does when I get embarrassed. “Obviously, I read grown-up books now.”

“Uh huh.” Quill rolls his eyes. “Anyway, Lia. Gas or no gas?”

“Uhm…” I bite my lip, looking down at Logan.

Twenty-seven bones. The damage should have stopped at twenty-seven bones.

But it didn’t. I never stopped hurting him. Not until I disappeared. And In the short time since he’s found me, he’s been severely injured three times.

Now, Quill is asking me to make a decision when I haven’t made one in eighteen years. No—in my life. Have I ever really been free?

I don’t think I’d even know how to be free.

“I’m just gonna do it,” says Quill suddenly, and before either of us can stop him, he grabs the small container of gas he found in one of the bikes, and douses it over Logan.

“Ahhh!”

I gasp as Logan wakes up, yelling and sputtering. The yell turns into a cry of agony, and then he stumbles to his knees, clutching his side. I try to hug him, but he bats me away.

“Logan,” I whisper. “Logan, please… I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

“Quill!” says my daughter shakily. “You hurt him!”

“Well, of course I did. It’s gasoline. What did you expect?”

“I didn’t expect you to suggest something that would hurt him so bad!”

Quill shrugs. “Whatever. He’ll be fine. Now what?”

I rest my head against Logan’s shoulder, thankful that he’s paused long enough in his thrashing to allow me to. I should have objected to the gas. I should have put a stop to it. I should have known.

“Quill, you’re such an asshole,” says Piper again. “He’s in so much pain!”

Thankfully, Logan’s groans stop, but it’s only because he’s passed out again.

“Yeah, well, maybe I was hoping to wake him up,” mutters Quill. “How the fuck are we supposed to get to Belfast if he’s passed out? I can’t drive all three of you on my bike. It’s not a very long trip from here, but it’ll be a lot longer if we have to walk. Even longer if I have to drag some helpless jerk, and…”

“Stop, Quill. Maybe I can try driving that—”

“Fuck no, cricket. I don’t even trust you to walk. But maybe your mom can drive.”

“Yes.” Piper’s brow clears. “Yes. You know how to drive, don’t you? I seem to remember…” She pauses, unsure, and searches my face.

“Uhm…” I take a nervous step back. “That was a long time ago. A very long time ago. I haven’t driven a car since I was a teenager.”