than he did anywhere else.
It had taken some convincing, but dredging up the past had set Ronnie on an introspective kick he’d been avoiding for as long as he could remember. For so long, he hadn’t actually been an active participant in his own life. It was just something that happened to him. A ride with no definite destination.
Now, it was different. He didn’t even know why it was different. Perhaps simply because he needed it to be. Ronnie had finally come to accept that Vaughn only had as much power as Ronnie offered. He was dead, after all, and the only thing the dead could take was what they were given.
He wasn’t sure if that was true, but it sounded good. It sounded like something his grandmother would say, and she had always had a feeling for that kind of thing. A sixth sense, as his mother put it.
He’d asked her once if that meant his grandmother was a variant, too, and his mother had merely laughed and denied it. Some people just had a sharper instinct than others, and that was as true for ghouls as it was for humans.
When nothing happened after several tense minutes spent standing in the clearing, Ronnie finally let himself breathe a little easier. He felt like an idiot, but that was a relief in its own way. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, really.
He was about to turn back when he heard the familiar crunch of leaves. He turned around, but no one appeared. He knew better than to think that meant he was alone, but he didn’t want to reach for his gun prematurely and end up having to explain things to one of his uncle’s deputies in the back of a squad car.
“Who’s there?” Ronnie demanded, sounding more authoritative than he’d expected.
No one responded, and for a moment, he was convinced he was just imagining things. Before he could relax, a small figure stepped out of the trees, instantly recognizable in the worst way. Like an old song he hated and had only just remembered after years of trying to forget it. Like the smell of burning flesh.
“Peter,” he muttered.
All the confidence his power had given him faded when he was confronted with the possibility of actually having to use it.
The changeling simply smiled, a deceptively benevolent expression on his childlike face. “Well, this is a surprise. I thought Colt had learned a lesson about letting his pets out unattended.”
His remark made Ronnie bristle, but he knew a reaction was what the little punk was looking for, so he refused to give him one. “I’m not his pet, and you’re about to find that out the hard way if you take another step.”
Peter flashed him a toothy grin. Ronnie wasn’t sure if he was incapable of hiding his fangs, or if he simply liked looking as menacing as possible at all times. He always looked like he had just left auditions for the part of the kid in Pet Sematary.
“My, we’ve gotten bold,” Peter said in a pleasant tone, his eyes glimmering with childish amusement. “I spared your life once, but I warned you I wouldn’t be so generous the next time. Maybe I’ll play with you for a bit until Colt comes looking.”
Ronnie took a step back, for all the good that would do him. His heart was pounding, and now that he needed to use his power, he couldn’t fully remember how he’d done it in the first place. There wasn’t exactly a handbook for Plague Doctors, and if there was, he certainly wasn’t going to be given access to it anytime soon. He reminded himself that Peter still didn’t know what he was capable of, and that was probably best for the time being.
“What do you want?”
Peter took a step closer, as if to call his bluff. “I was hoping things might have cooled off enough that Colt would be willing to have an adult conversation by now.”
Ronnie couldn’t stop the dry laugh that escaped his throat. “A conversation? In full disclosure, I don’t think a friendly chat is going to be the first thing on his mind the next time he sees you.”
That impish grin widened, turning even more menacing. “I always wondered how we would differ, the two of us. I’d hoped the experience would make my brother stronger, as it did me, but it seems it’s had the exact opposite effect. It’s made him sympathetic and weak, just like them. And you’re part of