Page 63 of Ghosts of the Dead

“Look for anything with the same markings as the scrap material,” Jace says. He’s taken the lead today. “Labels, paperwork, anything. Doesn’t even have to look like the scrap or that jacket. Anything mentioning a bunker, G.L., or, hell, just anything that looks like it could be something.”

Caspian scrunches his nose when he looks around, mutters something about water damage, and heads toward the back of the pharmacy. His boots leave prints in the thick dust, and I frown when I notice the state the interior is in. There must have been a burst pipe long enough ago that it finally dried out, but there’s some clear damage.

Mars finds a few packs of gauze and what might be antibiotics. His gaze shifts to my shin that’s still covered with a bandage, and I realize with a start that this isn’t only about following a vague lead. It’s also about patching me up.

Before I can call them out on their little plan, there’s a soft creak behind the far counter that doesn’t belong to any of us. I raise my blade.

Luna, who’s been padding quietly alongside me, freezes. Her ears prick forward, and a low, rumbling growl builds in her throat.

A cautious voice drifts over. “Summer?”

I freeze. My heart stutters, then races double-time.

Luna’s growl intensifies as a young woman steps into view from the back hallway with her hands raised. She’s maybe my age, an inch or two shorter, with fiery red hair tucked under a hood and almond-shaped eyes that track me with unsettling familiarity.

Jace shifts into high alert, his hand moving to the pistol on his hip. Luna positions herself in front of me with her hackles raised and teeth bared.

“You know Summer?” I choke out. My fingers absently graze along my Gemini tattoo. “Do you know where she is?”

The woman frowns, her eyebrows drawing together. “Wait. No. Not Summer.” She steps closer and tilts her head to really get a good look at me. Recognition dawns in her green eyes. “You’re her sister, aren’t you? She said she had a sister.”

Jace shifts closer to me, his body angling slightly to put himself between me and her. My grip tightens around my blade. “Who are you?” I ask.

Her expression softens, but Jace’s body remains as rigid as ever. I feel Mars and Caspian moving into position around us, forming a protective triangle with me at its center.

“My name’s Lucy. I knew Summer, though briefly.” Her gaze drops to my exposed wrist where my Gemini tattoo is on full display. “Guess that confirms it. You really are her sister. You look so much like her.”

“What do you mean, you knew Summer? How?” My voice cracks with desperate hope. I don’t recall Summer ever mentioning anyone named Lucy.

She hesitates, glancing between the three men surrounding me.

“How?” Mars repeats for me, his voice dangerously soft. His chest presses to my back, one hand settling at my hip. Protective, possessive.

Lucy shakes her head. “I was with her only a short time. I didn’t know what happened to her, but my brothers might. They hear things. They know a lot about what goes on.”

“Your brothers?” Mars’s hand tightens on my hip. “Who are they?”

“They help people,” she says. Her eyes dart toward the exits. “Survivors. They help survivors get to safer places. They might’ve picked up on something about your sister.”

“What kind of safer places?” Jace cuts in, his voice hard with suspicion. “And why would they know anything about Summer specifically?”

Lucy’s eyes narrow. “Because they keep tabs on everyone who passes through. And someone with purple hair is bound to get on someone’s radar.”

Jace takes a half-step forward. “How do these brothers of yours ‘help’ survivors?”

“I can’t say for sure, but I’ve seen it myself. They’ve found dozens of struggling people and gotten them to safety.”

“Where exactly are they?” Jace presses on.

“I can take you to them.”

“No,” Jace snaps. “Not happening. We’re not going anywhere blind.”

“I didn’t say now,” Lucy huffs. “I said they might help. That’s all.”

“We don’t trust people whomighthelp,” Caspian says from my other side. His platinum hair frame his face where his pale blue eyes practically glow with menace. He’s still in his pale gray t-shirt that stretches across his toned torso. “Especially not ones who sneak around and know too much about others without giving any information about themself.”

I glance around at them all. At the coiled tension in my guys and the way Lucy’s eyes keep darting toward the exits. She shrugs. “Suit yourselves.”

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