Noah's Quest - 12. Don't Trust Anyone

Let's unpack a surprise 

The police arrived quickly, taking flashing crime scene photos of the vandalism. Grandma and the lead Black Hawk guard escorted the officers to the security room to review whatever footage the cameras had managed to record.

Through it all, Chase just sat on the low stone wall outside, his eyes locked onto the dripping red letters: DON'T TRUST CHASE.

Here is the thing—Chase hadn’t given me a single reason to doubt him. It was going to take a hell of a lot more than a can of spray paint to scare me away.

I walked over, sat down next to him on the wall, and patted his knee. “You know, under the circumstances, I think it’s best if you just put on one of those jockstraps and walk around the perimeter.”

Chase’s head snapped toward me, his eyes wide. “What?”

“I’m just kidding. Or maybe I'm not,” I said, giving him a slow wink.

“You better be,” Grandma’s voice cut in as she suddenly materialized nearby.

“Why do you look like you just swallowed a lemon?” I asked, shifting my focus to her.

“Because the cameras apparently didn’t catch a single thing,” she sighed, her jaw tight. “Which tells me this was done by someone who knows our security protocols. Someone we know.”

“And it would have to be someone who knows Kellan, too,” I noted, glancing at Chase. He simply shrugged, his expression heavy.

“They’re going to fix the shattered window tonight, Ms. Jacobs,” one of the tactical guards informed Grandma. She nodded in appreciation.

While Chase stayed outside to watch the window repair, I moved into the kitchen with Grandma.

“What’s on your mind?” she asked, leaning against the counter.

“What makes you think I’m thinking about anything?”

“The fact that you’ve been stirring an empty mug for the last two minutes,” she replied with a smirk. I looked down. The cup was, in fact, completely empty.

I let out a heavy sigh, setting the spoon down. “I don’t believe the message on the wall.”

“I don’t either. But I need you to be extra careful. If anything—and I mean anything—looks out of place, you tell me immediately.”

“I really need to work on using my powers,” I muttered, staring at my hands. “I need to learn how to alert you instantly, or heck, just teleport myself out of trouble.”

“I’ll see if I can secure a proper tutor for you. But for now, you have a ghost bodyguard.”

I blinked. “A what?”

“I chose someone no one would ever expect, and they have personally vowed to protect you.”

“So, since the Black Hawk team is slacking, you went to a supernatural professional?”

“When it comes to your safety, the living team seems to be lacking lately,” Grandma admitted. “I honestly didn’t know this was an option until recently. Once I found out it was, it was a total no-brainer.”

“So... who is it?”

“I can’t reveal their identity. It’s actually going to be a rotating assignment. You’d be surprised how many people volunteered to help watch over you.”

A sudden, horrifying thought popped into my head. I looked down at my lap. “Wait. Does that mean they can see... everything?”

Grandma let out a hearty, booming laugh. “Noah, trust me. They have already seen far more than anyone ever signed up for.”

My face instantly burned a bright, violent shade of crimson.

Right then, Chase walked into the kitchen and slid onto the stool next to me. I could tell the message on the wall was still deeply affecting him.

“Chase, we’re going to get to the bottom of this,” I said softly, reaching over to lace my fingers through his.

“I just want to know who is willing to go to these lengths to cause you harm,” Chase muttered.

“A few people come to mind,” I replied, “but most of them are currently dead.”

“Someone thinks you know the truth about what happened to Jack,” Grandma murmured, watching us closely. “But you don’t.”

“Grandma, what exactly have you learned?” I asked, sensing the familiar wall she always put up when she was hiding a secret.

Grandma glanced around the room, making sure the guards were out of earshot, and sharply snapped her fingers. Instantly, a heavy, muted pressure filled the air, making it sound as if we were standing completely underwater.

“Jack was shot by a ghost,” Grandma stated flatly.

Chase and I exchanged a wide-eyed look.

“A ghost?” I repeated. “That seems unreal. Are you absolutely sure?”

“I am. But I can’t tell you who did it quite yet.”

“I have my guesses,” I muttered.

Grandma snapped her fingers a second time, and the underwater pressure vanished, returning the kitchen to normal. “I trust you both to keep that entirely to yourselves,” she said with a pointed glare.

Chase and I both nodded in immediate agreement.

“The perimeter is fully secure, ma'am,” one of the Black Hawk guards called out from the hallway.

I rolled my eyes at the timing, while Grandma simply nodded to the man. Across the room, a single candle sitting in the window above the sink suddenly flickered to life, its flame burning bright and steady.

“Ah. That means our extra detail has arrived and is ready,” Grandma said, looking toward the flame. “Take care of my boys,” she whispered to the empty air. Then, with a sharp flash, she vanished.

“I really need to learn how to travel in Grandma-style,” I laughed, trying to shake off the goosebumps.

“The fact that people can just pop in and out of our house is a bit unnerving,” Chase admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Well, Grandma did say the ghosts have already seen more than they bargained for.”

Chase caught my eye, a wicked smirk spreading across his face. He lowered his voice, perfectly mimicking a familiar eight-year-old. “No sexy time.”

We both burst into hysterical, breathless laughter, the lingering terror of the break-in finally melting away.

For the first time in days, I was incredibly relieved not to be violently awoken by a blaring house alarm. I woke up naturally, lying in bed and quietly watching Chase get dressed for work.

“Maybe later tonight I can help you take that uniform off,” I purred from under the covers.

“Promises, promises,” Chase smiled, his eyes dancing. He walked over, gave me a lingering kiss, and then he was off to base.

I finally dragged myself out of bed, throwing on a baggy hoodie and sweatpants before heading downstairs. I was surprised to find Little B already seated at the kitchen island, staring intently at his future-sight drawing of Grandpa’s arrest, almost as if he were trying to force the paper to change.

“Hey, bud,” I said, breaking his trance.

He looked up and smiled brightly. “Morning, Noah!”

“Where’s Grandma?” I asked, looking around the empty kitchen.

“Not here.”

“Your dad?”

“Not here.”

I narrowed my eyes slightly. “Do they even know you’re here?”

“Nope.”

Before I could question him further, a sharp flash illuminated the room, and Uncle Matt materialized. “There you are, Little B!” He let out a relieved breath before turning to me. “Noah, I am so incredibly sorry that he keeps intruding.”

“Little B is never intruding,” I smiled, leaning against the counter.

“Don’t say that too loud, or he’ll literally never leave your house,” Matt joked.

I laughed, but the humor died instantly when Little B suddenly gripped his pencil and began aggressively scribbling over the drawing of Grandpa.

“I guess that means I need to push my morning meetings,” Uncle Matt huffed, taking a seat at the island with a sigh.

“Nonsense,” Grandma’s voice echoed as she suddenly stepped into the kitchen. “Go to work, Matthew.”

I froze, and I noticed Uncle Matt stiffen beside me. Grandma never called him Matthew. Not unless he was in massive, catastrophic trouble.

Little B slowly looked up from his drawing paper, letting out a low, distinctly animalistic growl.

Uncle Matt and I exchanged a terrified glance. When I looked back at Little B, his eyes looked like they were literally on fire, glowing with a dangerous, unnatural light. I took a instinctive step backward, and Matt immediately threw himself in front of me, shielding me.

“Shall we do this the easy way, or the hard way?” Little B growled, his voice dropping an octave.

Whoever was currently impersonating my grandmother was about to realize they were in way over their head.

I don’t even know how to fully explain the physics of what happened next, but Little B launched himself from the barstool like a missile.

The fake Grandma tried to flash-dash and disappear, but Little B was entirely on top of them, hitting the target with brutal force. A sharp, terrified scream echoed through the kitchen.

When the dust finally settled, the intruder was completely pinned flat against the drywall—immobilized by a dozen of Little B’s colored pencils driven straight through their clothes and into the studs. Those had to be some seriously enchanted pencils.

Within seconds, the real Grandma and Uncle Nick materialized in the center of the room, weapons drawn.

Little B stood back, taking ragged, deep breaths as his eyes returned to normal. He reached up, grabbed the edge of the intruder's collar, and violently peeled away what appeared to be a flawless, high-tech morphing mask.

Standing there, pinned to the wall and gasping for air, was Damian.