Chapter 25 - Adam Whitehall
Callum French gazed absently at the penknife between his fingers, barely noticing how his twirling of the weapon engraved the surface of the desk he was sat at. The wood's smooth surface put up no fight, used to the abuse it had undergone for years.
This building was too cheerful. Stanley's the printer shop. A store that had never sold a single printer in the entirety of its existence. Despite the fact that the majority of Grandview knew that the building was nothing more than a rendezvous for those with less than positive intentions, the owner was obsessed with keeping up appearances and made the building look like something from a cheesy '80s sitcom. The exterior was painted pink, the windows frosted so as to hide any activities from within. Little window boxes sat underneath the glass – yellow and orange marigolds collected snugly within them.
Inside was almost as bad. The walls were striped an offending shade of yellow and images of woodland animals lined the walls. Desks were arranged around the parameter making the fact that this wasn't a printer shop all the more obvious. It didn't make any sense to anyone but the owner, although, most of the people Cal had spoken to about it had said that the guy was a little outside of the world of the sane.
Cal grunted as he let the penknife drop onto the table with a clatter. The sooner he got out of here the better. America was possibly one of his least favourite places in the world – the accents, the food, the people... It made him sick.
"Sir?" Derek Campbell, a burly Yorkshireman Cal had recently employed, entered the room, holding a glass of whisky in his meaty hands. "The drink y'asked for."
Cal glanced at the glass before nodding towards his desk. Campbell followed the silent order and placed the drink down before his employer.
"Wait by the door. She should be here any moment," Cal demanded, leaning back in his chair. He wasn't looking forward to this meeting. When they'd met, he'd had the element of surprise which had led to a short, curt conversation before he'd managed to make a swift depart. This time, she'd have questions.
If he ever came to America again, he would make sure to steer clear of this particular building. It was starting to hurt his eyes.
The knock came a good five minutes later – a feeble thing that could barely be heard over the radio in the next room. Cal, with his chair still facing the wall, leant back, twisting his head so as to give his employee a sideways nod. Sitting back upright he then swizzled the chair around to get a better look.
Isabelle entered the room with a look of anticipation, her eyes scanning the room like a startled deer. Cal followed her gaze, narrowing his eyes at the walls around him.
"It's not what I expected either," he announced, a certain level of distaste in his voice. He watched calmly as her gaze met his before flitting away again. "You've brought what I asked for?"
The woman's grip tightened slightly on the large golden handbag draped over her shoulder. She took a steadying breath, her vision fixed on a spot on the floor. "You said he stole it from you? How?"
Cal sighed as the questioning he'd been expecting appeared to begin. He glanced down at the watch on his wrist as though willing the time away. He hated telling stories.
"It's not important."
Isabelle scoffed, her fear ebbing slightly. "It was important enough for you to kill him."
Cal closed his eyes for a second, bringing his elbows onto the armrests of his desk chair so as to steeple his fingers under his nose. "I don't mean to offend you, Ashton, but I don't think I owe you anything. I'm sorry for your pain, but I'm not sorry for Liam's death."
The woman across from him blinked in confusion before shaking her head. "Liam's death? I think you mean Adam's."
"Adam's." Cal swung back to face his desk, glancing down at a sheet of paper to make himself look busy. Amateur slip up.
He could almost hear the cogs turning in Isabelle's head as he faced away from her.
"You said 'conned'. Yesterday, you said he conned it out of you..."
Cal stayed silent, scratching his right eyelid in irritation.
"You've never called him Adam – it was always my 'boyfriend'... and then Liam?" She took a few determined steps towards him "What am I missing here?"
Campbell must have taken this as some sort of threat as he started strolling over to the woman. Cal held a hand up to stop him in his tracks. Slowly, but surely, he turned his chair back around to face her.
"You're missing everything, just like I was."
Isabelle's look of determination wavered slightly as she took him in. He knew that she was terrified of him, that much was obvious but there was something else in her gaze – a look of uncertainty and loss. He hesitated, before gesturing her to sit down on one of the desk chairs. Slowly and reluctantly, she pulled out the seat next to him. If anything, telling her the truth might taint the prat's memory and dishonour him more than he already had.
"He was a conman," he stated, keeping his eyes fastened on the engagement ring on Isabelle's finger. "Never caught or convicted because the people he conned were more often than not too embarrassed to go to the police. He didn't exactly go for small targets."
Isabelle kept silent, her mouth twitching in silent protest. Cal's attention turned to her hair, which cascaded from her scalp like a brunette waterfall.
"He was Wes when I knew him. Originally from Sheffield, kicked out by his parents and building a life for himself in London." Cal felt his vision go red as he the events of three years ago played out in his head. "As far as I'm aware, the story he told me was the most accurate of all his cons. Turned out, his real name was Liam Winchester and he was part of a crew of grifters who conned money out of anyone doing well for themselves."
Isabelle let out a breath, as though she'd just been winded. "Adam was born and bred in London, he was a business man."
Cal just shook his head. "Then he conned you just as much as he did me. That phoney voice he's been sporting for the past however many years? He's no more upper-class than Campbell." He shoved his thumb in his employee's direction.
"I don't believe you."
The man scoffed, looking her up and down in mild amusement. He paused for another moment, before placing his hand in his inner jacket pocket and pulling out a small photograph. He held it out to her face down. Swallowing hard, Isabelle gently took the scrap of paper, turning it over. Her eyes widened slightly as she took him in.
The picture showed a young man, twenty-one years of age, sitting on the edge of a black leather sofa, with one arm draped over a golden Labrador Retriever. The smile on his face lit up the entire picture, an air of cheekiness coupled with pure happiness making him look boyish and carefree. His brown hair was curly and tousled and his attire consisted simply of a green hoodie and a pair of scrappy old jeans. The boy looked nothing like the well-to-do young businessman that had made his début in American industry a few years back yet if you looked hard enough, you began to spot the similarities.
"He told me he couldn't wear hoodies because they reminded him of the teenagers that used to terrorise him at school..." Isabelle murmured, her eyes still attached to the photo.
"And yet they were the only things he'd wear when I met him. He couldn't stand suits."
Isabelle stared at the image a while longer before closing her eyes and placing it face down on the desk beside her.
"So... he, uh... He was part of a team?"
Cal pulled the photograph back, glancing up at her momentarily. The worry in her voice was evident and he'd heard it enough times to know exactly what she was thinking.
"You wouldn't know any of them. Last I checked, they were still living it large in London."
Her relief was short-lived as another thought struck her. "Adam... Liam, came here with nothing. Like, literally nothing. He was living in some shabby apartment in Brooklyn. After stealing all that money from you, surely he'd be a little more well off than that. He could have conned a better life for himself. And why would he leave London if he was doing so well for himself there?"
Cal rubbed his eyes with his finger and thumb, a small headache forming behind their sockets. "If you're going to be counter-productive and try and come up with some other answer then I'm no longer interested in this conversation. How I understand it, I scared him off – he made a break for it. It wouldn't have been cheap." The man removed his hand from his face and reached across to the untouched glass of whisky. The glass was refreshingly cold in his hands.
Isabelle simply stared at him as her brain continued to whir. Cal could see the questions burning behind her hazel eyes. Had he been lying to her all this time? Was he really with her because he loved her or because he needed the money? Would he have ever told her the truth?
"Well, I can see you're conflicted. Why don't we wrap this whole thing up and then you can go and question the meaning of existence in your own home." The man held a hand out to the door, giving Isabelle the signal to leave. She paused, glancing down at the bag under her arm.
"There's just one thing... If you wanted the money so much, why didn't you get it from him? You could've gotten the money and then... killed him?"
Cal didn't reply, choosing instead to stand and walk over to the door leading into the back room. Not looking back, he waltzed in and turned the radio down. A few seconds later, he reappeared in the doorway, hands shoved into this trouser pockets. "We're done here."
Isabelle stared at him a moment, as though working out how far to push it. Cal's face remained stoic.
"All right." The woman finally mumbled. Cal watched as she stood and sat the handbag on her seat before making her way to the exit.
As soon as she left, the man sighed and let his head fall sideways to rest on the door jamb. The memory of Liam was a memory that drained him. He didn't for a moment regret putting that bullet in his brain, but there had been a few moments since then that he doubted his decision. He couldn't stand what being here was doing to him, and although he hadn't looked forward to spending time with someone that had spent so much time with him, he knew he couldn't stay in the country much longer. His place was back home.
It was the sound of the door clinking shut that woke Cal from the stupor he realised he had been in for the entire encounter. He closed his eyes biting the inside of his cheek in self-loathing.
"Campbell? Tell me what's in that bag."
Campbell hesitated, not entirely sure what his boss was asking. "The one she left behind?"
"Check it, and tell me what's inside." He ordered, slightly louder than before. Campbell scurried over to the handbag and picked it up. Balancing it in one hand, he unzipped it, and drove his other hand into it's depths.
There was a moment of silence.
"It's just bits o' paper, sir. Loads o' lit'le strips o' paper."
"Idiot!" Cal cursed as he slammed his clenched fist into the wall. His had swiftly dove into his pocket and pulled out a silver pistol. He shot Campbell a glare before charging out of the shop into the street. It didn't take him long to spot the retreating form of Miss Ashton running for the main road. Campbell dashed past him his huge lumbering body racing forward like a tidal wave.
Gripping his pistol tighter in his hand, he levelled and aimed it straight at her. If there was one thing he would not be, it was humiliated. The man let off a warning shot, the bullet embedding itself into a building near to the runaway. She screamed and put her hands up behind her head, bending slightly as though this would make her less of a target. Running like this slowed her down considerably, allowing Campbell to gain on her.
Cal continued to hold his pistol out as he joined the chase.
In her haste, Isabelle didn't notice the shoelaces of her converse flapping around her ankles, having come undone earlier in her escape. It was only as she began to reach the end of the street that the lace of her left shoe became lodged under her right foot.
The fall was anything but graceful as she landed with her arms out in front of her, her body diving for the pavement. Within seconds, Cambell reached her and scooped her up like a toy doll. By the time Cal reached them, his worker had the young woman's arm's pinned behind her back at what looked like a painful angle.
"That really wasn't a clever trick you just tried to pull," Cal growled, raising his gun so that it pointed at her skull.
"My brother works for the government – I tried to call him last night but he wouldn't pick up. If you let me talk to him, I can get you the money," Isabelle pleaded suddenly, tears forming in her eyes from the sharp pains that were running down her arms. Cal's eyes simply narrowed.
"Maybe you should have come in today and told me that, rather than pulling this stupid stunt."
"I just thought it might buy me time."
Cal glowered at her, taking in her weak and pathetic body. It was only then that he spotted something he hadn't noticed before. His eyes shot back up to hers and a cruel smile slithered onto his face. Her own eyes widened drastically as the gun moved from her head to her abdomen. She struggled even harder with Campbell, throwing all her strength into trying to escape. It was when she closed her eyes that she heard the gunshot.
"Can't you fly a little faster?" Adam shouted, his hand wrapped tightly around Danny's elbow.
"I'm trying!" The teen grunted back, "You're just so heavy!" It was true. While weight didn't work exactly the same when in flight, Danny still had to have the strength to pass on his ability to whoever he was flying with. On a good day, Danny may have been able to lift an entire bus – but only slowly and only if he was on top form. However, the beating from the tunnels, coupled with the fact that he wasn't completely healed from his battle a few weeks back meant that lifting Adam was a chore he didn't completely have the energy for.
"I'm sorry – if I'd've known you were going to be so childish about it, I might have lost some weight before I was murdered. Left!"
Danny glared ahead as he made a sharp turn to the left. He knew he should be slightly more lenient with the ghost, with the emotional trauma he was going through right now, but even after finding out that the Adam he thought he knew didn't actually exist, the guy was still unbelievably annoying.
"How much further is it?"
As though to answer his question, the sound of a gun shot drew both of the ghosts' attention. Adam glanced up at Danny, but the teenager was so focused on speeding towards the sound that he couldn't look back. The older man clenched his jaw slightly as the thought of his girlfriend facing Callum French invaded his mind.
Locating the nearby sounds of a struggle, Danny altered his course slightly before starting a speedy downwards descent. He spotted Isabelle almost instantly, pleading with a shorter guy as she was held in place by a body-builder. He instantly let go of Adam's arm, allowing the man to disappear and land directly beside his partner. The teenager angled himself so that he could drop even faster – he was still around forty metres above the ground. Allowing a portion of energy into his hand, the teenager felt his palm come alive in green flames. He narrowed his eyes as the smaller man lifted a gun to aim it at her forehead. It was only as the gun was lowered to her stomach that Danny was close enough to do anything about it. He let go of the ectoplasm in his hands, shooting it forward so that it blasted the gun straight out of the guy's hand, just as he'd begun to pull the trigger.
The man – Callum – cursed and cradled his burned hand in the crook of his other arm. The guy's weasel like eyes shot up to spot Danny flying towards him and his glare melted into a look of astonishment. The teenager smirked at the man's response – it's not everyday a top end criminal finds himself being attacked by a teenage vigilante with ghost powers.
Danny warmed his hand up again, forming another blast only without the heat, and sending it flying into Callum's side. The man was knocked back about three metres, landing harshly on his backside. Snapping out of his shock, he rolled over and retrieved the gun he'd lost, firing at his supernatural attacker. The teenager simply formed a green ghost shield to easily deflect the bullets. Callum paused for a second, glancing between his gun and the shield. Narrowing his eyes, he lowered the weapon and stood up.
"So what are you supposed to be then?" he asked, darkly, "Some sort of comic-book superhero wannabe?"
Danny dropped to the floor a little way away from the murderer. "Something like that."
A slightly sadistic expression spread over the man's face as he glanced over at Isabelle. "Let me guess – you've come to save the damsel in distress."
"You killed her boyfriend," Danny retorted. For some reason this fight was so much more than anything he'd been through before. This time, he wasn't fighting ghosts or hunters – he was fighting a completely human murderer. It was for this reason that his usual spark had become somewhat tainted.
"I did her a favour! The guy never loved her, he was just out for her cash!"
The teen shook his head. "I happen to know for a fact that that's not true."
"Then you didn't really know him, did you?" Callum spat, his fingers massaging the cold weapon in his hand.
"You're right. I didn't. I don't. But I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him."
Callum laughed before suddenly sending a bullet flying towards the young boy. This time, the teenager was caught unawares as the small scrap of metal dove into his chest. He gasped as the pain swept over him, causing him to stagger back slightly.
"Danny?" Adam called out from somewhere behind him, but the teenager couldn't focus on that. Instead, he stared down at the small puncture in his chest. Gritting his teeth, he dove an intangible hand into his chest, finding the bullet in seconds. He grasped the foreign object and yanked it out, shuddering with the agony it was causing him. As he pulled it out, Callum stood staring, open mouthed. His grip tightened on his weapon and he began firing like a madman. This time, though, Danny was prepared. He turned himself completely intangible and started waltzing towards the shooter.
Obviously this only worked in making Callum all the more desperate. The man backed up until he found himself pressed up against a brick wall. The teenager formed another beam firing it at the killer in a way that would have given the same impact as a punch to the gut. The man doubled over in pain, dropping his gun and allowing Danny to become tangible again. To the teenagers annoyance, Callum started laughing bitterly.
"All this for a dead man. The guy was good – I'll give him that."
"You talk about him like he was some sort of monster – yet you're the one who was prepared to shoot an innocent woman just for revenge." Through his anger, Danny didn't notice how close to the man he was, or how his eyes flickered an unnatural shade of red.
"She tried to con me," the man growled, keeping his head low. Danny shrugged.
"Well maybe you deserved it."
Callum scoffed and shook his head, as though Danny just wasn't getting the point. The teenager's hand blared to life with green energy, more powerful than he had ever made it before.
He lifted his palm to face Callum's chest.
"Danny!" Adam screamed from across the street. His voice tore the teenager out of his trance of rage. The boy looked down to his flaming hand, wide eyed, before extinguishing the fire and pulling it back as though he'd just been badly burned. He glanced behind him to see the man burly man from earlier knocked out cold. The girl he'd been holding up was also draped across the floor, only she was still conscious and grasping at her stomach.
Panting, he turned his head back to stare at the winded killer. "Get out of here. Don't ever bother her again, or it won't just be bruises you'll be leaving with."
The man paused, lifting his head to give Danny a proper examination before glancing across at Isabelle and his employee. Realising his defeat, the man stood straight. He stared into Danny's eyes a few more seconds before spitting in his face, and limping off.
Everything within the teenager screamed at him to get back at the man, as his foul dribble made its way down the side of his face. However he'd scared himself more than he'd ever care to admit. He glanced down at his gloved hands, suddenly fearing the power that they had before clenching them and wiping the spittle from his cheek.
Remembering that he had other things to focus on, he spun around and jogged over to where Isabelle and Adam were sat. When he got closer, he could see the problem. The bullet he had thought he'd stopped when he'd first arrived, had reached its target. Blood poured from the wound in her abdomen, making Danny gag.
"Danny, we've got to do something," Adam whispered, stroking the hair on her forehead with his fingers.
"What do you want me to do?" the teenager gasped back, panicking. Isabelle's eyes flitted up to his, tears streaming down her cheeks. Danny couldn't tell whether she was pleading with him, or terrified of him. "It's all right. You're going to be all right." The teen cringed when his voice appeared to hold an edge of hysteria. He was used to dealing with his own injuries, but this was something else. Adam paused, his eyes intently on his partner's face.
"I need you to get the bullet out. There's no exit wound which means it's still in there."
Danny nodded his head, happy to let the ghost take charge. Shaking, he knelt down, directly in front of the injured woman.
"I'm just going to get the bullet out, okay? You have to trust me."
The woman hesitated, biting her lip to help with the pain, before nodding. Danny guessed she was probably willing to risk anything to stay alive. Clenching his jaw, the boy prised her hands away from the wound before slowly plunging his hands into her tummy. He closed his eyes as he felt around inside of her (one of the weirdest things he had done in the entirety of his ghost hunting). Eventually he found it, directly in front of the spine. Giving her an encouraging nod, he grabbed the bullet and gently pulled it out. The bleeding increased, draining the majority of colour from the girl's face.
"What now?" Danny asked, dropping the bloody bullet as though it were on fire.
"This is going to sound crazy, but I need you to trust me," The severity of the man's voice made Danny nod almost instantly.
"I trust you," he confirmed.
"Right." The man leaned forward, intangibly grasping the woman's hand. "I need you to shoot a small ecto-beam into the wound."
"What? Are you insane?" Danny scrambled back slightly, horrified at the concept. Adam simply stared back at him grim faced.
"You need to do it now. She's losing too much blood." When the boy didn't show much sign of complying, Adam grasped his shoulder with his free hand. "You remember what happened with Eli's burn? You remember how it mysteriously healed itself?"
Danny nodded, dumbly. The two stared at each other a moment longer before Danny caved, took a deep breath and leaned forward once more. With an extremely shaky hand, he brought up the slightest bit of energy. He stared at the gushing injury and fired the thinnest blast straight into it.
The bleeding stopped almost instantly.
"How did you...?"
"I overheard Melinda talking to a kid about a website that said something about ectoplasm having healing properties," Adam murmured, as though that answered everything. Danny sat back and watched as the man stared lovingly into his partner's eyes. "The injury should take about ten minutes to fully heal, she should recover some blood by then," the older ghost added.
Danny still couldn't help but find it amazing how this guy seemed to know more about his abilities than he did. A grunt from behind Isabelle caught his attention.
"How exactly did Buster here get himself knocked out?" he asked, suddenly struck by the thought. Adam was in a permanent state of intangibility and Isabelle hadn't exactly been in prime condition. Adam smirked and nodded his head towards a large discarded pebble at Isabelle's feet.
"I've gotten better at manipulating objects."
The man groaned again. Danny watched the couple as they remained ignorant to him. He shook his head and stood up, stepping over the healing woman and bending down to pick the big guy up. It took nearly all his energy to lift himself in the air with his heavy load.
"I'm just going to drop this off somewhere. I'll be right back," he gasped, readjusting his hold on the semi-conscious henchman. Neither of them responded as the teenager rose higher into the air, painfully slowly.
It took him a while to find the tallest building in the area and to literally drop the brute onto it. The relief that flooded through him at the loss of the colossal weight was almost tangible as he seemed to float higher and higher. The boy hung back and watched as the guy fully regained consciousness and woke to find himself stranded on a rooftop. Danny grinned to himself before shooting back to where he had left the lovers.
Only neither of them were where he'd left them. Danny allowed himself to drop onto the street, bewildered. Where exactly could a woman with a bullet wound have wandered of to in such a short period of time?
"I'd watch out if I were you," Adam's voice warned from behind him. The teen spun around to see Isabelle standing directly in front of him. She didn't look all that injured any more, the hole and bloodstains in her shirt being the only sign of any wound. The most distinctive difference was that she was holding a familiar small silver pistol in her hand and it was pointing directly between Danny's eyes.
"What the hell are you?"
AN: Hey! How long has it been since I last updated? 5 months maybe? Geez... Well I guess here's a longish chapter to make up for it - we haven't had a chapter this long since chapter 19! What was that? A year ago? :') I swear I am trying to get better at publishing but life is so unbelievably hectic right now and my perfectionist nature means that actually writing the story is so much harder than you would have thought - this is the 4th or 5th version of a chapter that I have tried to write. I hope it's all good for you!
So we've grown up a little bit for this chapter, I think. I've never written anything so serious and relatively adult before - it's scary! Let me know what you think of this darker side?
Oh! For anyone who couldn't read chapter 22 because it, for some reason, didn't exist... I think I've solved the problem so you can head back and read that now, if yeh fancy! (Thanks to the reviewer that alerted me to the issue!)
I think I've rambled enough - see you as soon as I've finished the currently non-existent chapter 26!
~Mea