Predatory
5: Haunted

DRAKE POV

“I promise you, it’s not a practical joke or my imagination or anything like that. I wouldn’t do that to you guys,” I tell Callum and Xander for what must be the hundredth time as we get into Xander’s massive red truck.

“Sure, whatever, man. Time to give up while you’re behind,” Xander snarks.

“But—”

“Shut it,” Callum growls. I technically outrank him, but I’m not one to mess around when he sounds like that. Only once the truck doors are closed and Xander starts driving out of the parking lot does he continue. “If you weren’t imagining things, I can only think of two explanations for what you smelled. First one is that there was some sort of animal we haven’t encountered before. Still unlikely, given that Xander and I ain’t smelled nothin’ and none of us heard anything, but better than the alternative.”

“What’s the alternative?” I ask. I don’t like the intensity in Callum’s eyes.

“WASP special ops.”

“You can’t be serious,” Xander groans. “Not this shit again. We’ve been following the rules. They’ve got no reason to take any interest in us.”

“I don’t think it’s particularly likely, either, for that reason and that it’d be hella impressive if Drake caught any sign of anything unusual at all, if they have taken an interest in us. Everything I’ve read and heard about special ops says they’re on a totally different level from most everyone else.”

“Face it, Drake, you’re delusional.”

I cross my arms over my chest and glare out the windshield. I know there’s no convincing either of them, but I know I smelled something unusual. Basil, sun-warmed ripe berries, lemongrass, and dark chocolate, all blended together somehow. The faintest whiff, only for a second, on the breeze…. And there’s more to it, something I can’t explain. A feeling, a presence. I would swear on my life that someone was there, until they just…weren’t.

“Maybe that field is haunted,” I mutter after what seems like an eternity of only truck noises and metal music.

“I suppose that’s a fourth explanation,” Callum allows gamely. “We should try to figure out a way to go hunting. Haven’t done that in a while. Might do something good for all of our peace of mind.”

“Another great reason to go to Athens. Plenty of wilderness around there,” Xander suggests with a crafty gleam in his eyes.

“Abso-fucking-lutely not. We are not starting that argument again.”

“Aw, come on! It’s just a weekend of fun.”

“And winters in Maine are just a little snowy. We’re not going.”

“Xander, please. Let it go,” I ask, more exasperated than I meant to be.

“If you’ll let your ghost scent go—” he starts, but I’m not having it.

“Already forgotten,” I lie. “Wasn’t gonna mention it again. But I’d rather listen to you gush about Sleepers Awake for the rest of the day than have that discussion about Athens again.”

“That can be arranged.”

“Hey, wait a second. He might be willing to listen to that, but I haven’t agreed—” Callum cuts in, prompting an argument I have no interest in listening to. The two of them would bicker about anything, and often do. It gets annoying, but as long as they’re arguing with each other, they won’t bother me about whatever I smelled or sensed back at the field. Animals don’t have presence like that. And I know I didn’t just imagine it. So that leaves…ghost or WASP operative. I don’t like either of those options. I’ve never been one to believe in ghosts or place much stock in superstitions. But given the choice between dealing with a ghost and a WASP operative, I’ll pick the ghost every time.

Not for the first time, I’m grateful to have Callum as a friend. He’s cool as a cucumber under pressure, cautious, smart. Exactly the sort of person I want to have my back if the worst option is the truth.

It’s still weird that I’m the only one of the three of us who picked up on it. We’re all pretty evenly matched in powers of observation. Maybe there’s something more to it, something none of us have thought of. But I’m not going to replace the answers just stewing about it. I’ll have to go back there, maybe alone, and investigate things more thoroughly. Maybe tomorrow morning. No way I’m going to get to go anywhere else today other than the concert tonight. All of us have work to do between now and then—remote work for our employers in Maine, but it’s still work and it’s still what’s paying our rent and keeping the lights on.

Tonight had better be as “wickedly awesome” as Xander’s talking it up to be.