“Yeah, we’re cool.”
I grinned and held up a fist. “I’d fist bump you, but that might be kind of hard.”
“Like I haven’t heard that before,” he muttered.
I laughed. “Find me when you have a body and we’ll hang.”
“Soon as you get this job done, I’ll get my time off.”
“You don’t get time off until I kill her?”
“Job won’t be over ‘til then.”
“Right,” I agreed.
The darkness seemed to absorb Storm, and everything went quiet. I tried to listen for which way he went, but all I heard was the sound of my own breathing. I walked around the front of the building and looked up toward her window. It was dark. She must’ve gone to bed. Something inside me twisted and tugged; my stomach turned. What was wrong with me? What was wrong with this body?
I climbed into my car and pulled away from the curb.
Only one way to find out.
* * *
The GPS in my car directed me back to where Mr. Burns lived. The man at the front gate waved me through without question, probably because he recognized the car. When I got to the house, I parked and jogged up the stairs to ring the bell. When Mr. Burns himself greeted me, I stood there gaping like an idiot because I really thought he wasn’t the type of man to open his own door.
He smiled when I stared. “The staff has the night off.”
That seemed to shake me out of my stupor. “You gave me a defective body,” I said. “I want a new one.”
He opened the door wider and motioned me inside. “It’s cold, come in.” Once inside, he turned to me, looking rather amused. “What is wrong with your body, Dex?”
“I think it’s rejecting me.”
He laughed. “Rejecting you? That’s impossible.”
I didn’t like being laughed at. “My stomach always hurts. There’s this weird tugging right here,” I said, pressing my palm beneath my ribs. “And sometimes I feel shaky and dizzy. So, either this body doesn’t like me, or there’s something wrong with it.”
“I can assure you there is nothing wrong with your body,” Mr. Burns said smoothly. “Would you care for a nightcap?”
I didn’t know what that was, but I was pretty sure I didn’t want it. “I want answers.”
“You’re body is merely doing what it’s programmed to do.”
“You programmed it to be sick?” Maybe being a Ghost Escort and not having a body wasn’t that bad if all the bodies this guy handed out were damaged.
Mr. Burns laughed, his thin lips pulling into a smile. “I programmed it to kill.”
Of all the things he could’ve said, that was the last thing I imagined. “You what?”
“Tell me, do you mostly feel the way you described when you’re near your Target?”
“Yes.”
“That’s because it’s your body’s way of reminding you to do your job.”
“I don’t need a reminder.” And if I did, I’d set the alarm on my iPhone.
“It isn’t just you; it’s all the Death Escorts. You all have a physical reaction when you are around your assigned Target. That tugging sensation you described is your body’s way of urging you closer, telling you it’s time to kill.”
