Violet Spark by Elsa Jade & Erin Kellison

Author:Elsa Jade & Erin Kellison [Jade, Elsa & Kellison, Erin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781945115431
Publisher: Fire Flower Publishing, LLC
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

WHAT WAS WHAT? I typed back to Jacksalot.

A video flashed across my screen. It was me and an arcing flash of purple frying the animal kiosk monitor.

My heart skipped while my fingers raced. Are you fucking stalking me?

Don’t angle your phone where anyone can see you doing freaky shit

Ugh, I’d had Jacksalot watching when I’d stuffed the phone into my back pocket. Before I could snap back about victim blaming, he kept typing. Was that faked? That was the same as the vid from your bedroom. You faked it

Yeah, fake. I slammed my thumbs on the phone so hard, I was lucky I didn’t crack it.

For a moment, the screen stayed blank.

Don’t fuck around. That was real, wasn’t it?

Although I couldn’t hear him, I could imagine his tone. Flat, disbelieving.

Forced to wonder.

And somehow, it made me believe he wasn’t in on any of it. He wasn’t connected to Brayden’s murder or Dane coming after me. Jacksalot had helped me find Brayden in the first place—albeit find him dead. If Jacksalot was working with Alling or Dane, someone would’ve been dragging me out of here already, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred cinnamon buns.

I called him.

“It was real,” he said. Yeah, definitely flat.

“Hello to you too.”

“I’ve always suspected the government was running insane experiments on American citizens, but—”

“Don’t go all tinfoil hat on me,” I snapped. “I’m not with the government.” I hesitated, thinking of Dane. “At least I don’t think I am. Not yet anyway.”

“You’re going to tell me what the fuck is going on, or I’m posting this shit online. Now.”

“Go ahead!” I said. “Brayden’s dead. Did you see that through my phone?” Acid churned in my stomach, the memories roiling in my head almost as toxic. “He was murdered. And I’m probably going to be next, so…yeah, post away, asshole. Then they’ll be coming for you.”

That shut him up.

“Brayden’s dead?”

“Yup. I found him right where you told me I would. Shot in the forehead. I can’t fucking un-see it.”

“Who…?” His voice this time was faint, as if coming from a great distance or a crappy connection. So, he wasn’t always the snarky, sly shithead of a scourge I’d come to loathe.

“I don’t know who killed him. But I have his phone. It’s locked. Do you think you can hack it?”

There was another minute of him sputtering—“When did you…? How did you…? Where…? Why…?” as if any of that even mattered—before he finally wound down. “Dead?”

I sighed. “They killed him, jackhole. I don’t know who did it, but if I could get into his phone, maybe I could figure it out.” And maybe I could figure out the rest of my life too.

“My name’s not jackhole,” he muttered.

Then there was near silence on the other end for a few minutes, but the sound of clicking—typing—scratched at my ears so I knew he was working. I waited, not patiently, pacing tight circles around the empty end of the mall. The lights of the ATM blinked a temptation.

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