and find out. We’ll have ourselves a big old house party. There’s someone here who’s dying to meet you boys.” With those cryptic words, the call disconnected.
Jude froze. What the hell was going on? Marc’s call explained why Peg hadn’t gotten back in touch with him. How long had the bastard been holding her hostage? An hour? All day? Also, who was it that had her, Marc or Musgrave?
“Are you okay?” Cope set a hand against the side of his face. “You look like you saw a ghost.”
Jude had seen a ghost. One who he assumed was looking to pick up right where he left off. “I’m just stunned. I didn’t see this coming. How did we not see this coming?”
“See what coming?”
“Musgrave has taken over Waller. That, or Marc is so evil that he volunteered himself for the job.” Christ, they needed to get out to that house this instant.
“What job is that?” Cope sounded worried.
“We’re gay. It’s Musgrave’s job to reform us or wipe us out. He’s got fucking cages with our names written on them for fuck’s sake. Don’t you see that?” Jude’s heart was hammering in his chest. If this kept up, he was going to have a heart attack.
“Take a deep breath. We’re going to figure this all out.” Cope opened his mouth to continue speaking when the doorbell interrupted him. “Get dressed. That will be Ronan, Fitz, and Carson.”
“Why are they here?” Jude was truly stymied.
Cope’s brows knit together. “Hey, snap out of it.” He tapped Jude on the cheek, hard enough to startle him, but soft enough not to leave a mark.
Jude gave his head a shake. He felt a fog clear from his mind. “What the fuck was that?”
“We’ll talk about it in a minute. Get dressed.” Cope was out of bed and pulling his t-shirt back on.
Jude felt as if he’d lost the last few minutes. The feeling reminded him of pulling all-nighters making out with the boys back home and then falling asleep in class the next day. His micro-naps only lasted a few seconds but left him feeling like he’d been out for much longer. Just like now.
On wobbly legs, Jude got out of bed and got dressed like Cope asked. He hoped to hell Ronan brought the cavalry. They were going to need it. He was threading his belt through his jeans when Carson popped his head into the bedroom.
“You okay?” Carson wore a casual smile.
Jude sat down wearily on the side of the bed to put his socks on. “I know I don’t have anything close to your gifts, but I’ve got a very bad feeling we’re walking into something bad tonight.”
Carson nodded. “That’s the vibe I’m getting too.”
“What do I do, Carson?” It wasn’t like Jude to ask his psychic friends to use their gifts on his behalf, but this wasn’t a typical case.
“I don’t know much, but from what I can see, keep your wits about you. Don’t let this fucker pick you apart like he did with the others.” Carson’s hands were tangled in each other.
“Is Father Musgrave influencing Marc, or me for that matter?”
“Something is. I can’t tell if its him or someone else.” Not knowing the answer was clearly upsetting Carson.
Christ, knowing there could be an unknown spirit in the mix didn’t make Jude feel any better. “Any idea who it is?”
“Actually, I do. It’s the spirit Cope’s been sensing in this house.” Carson didn’t seem all too happy with his revelation.
“Let me guess, it’s also the same person Everly’s been sensing?” Jude would never forgive himself for bringing this spirit into his goddaughter’s world.
“I think so,” Carson said softly. “Whoever this person is, Jude, they’re going to come at you hard. All of you. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Jude got Carson’s message loud and clear. The unknown bastard would be coming after Ronan, Fitzgibbon, Peg, Cope, and himself. The reason was crystal clear. “I hear you.”
“I’ll be here with Wolf. I promise I’ll keep him safe.”
“I know you will, Carson.” Jude gave the psychic a hug. Not having to worry about Wolf’s well-being was a weight off Jude’s chest. He headed downstairs as Carson went into Wolf’s room.
“You look like hell, man.” Ronan was perched on the edge of the sofa with his ever-present notebook flipped open to a blank page. Fitzgibbon sat nearby with his game face on. Cisco Jackson, the Salem Chief of Police stood near the door, his arms crossed over his broad chest.
“Yeah, well, we have