Chapter 21 #2
Which can’t be right because his brows are furrowed like he’s angry.
I don’t understand him, and I’m not sure whether that makes me intrigued or irritated.
I want him to tell things to me straight, but I haven’t exactly been sunshine and rainbows either, and I don’t want to mess up this tentative truce by demanding an explanation.
I know what it looks like to not be welcomed, and he’s throwing out very mixed messages about whether or not he still hates me.
I’m too busy glaring at his profile to notice the path. I shift my weight onto my extended foot and nearly fall into a hole. A strong hand wraps around my bicep and tugs me back before I can meet my demise again.
“Careful.”
I gasp, eyes swinging up to his as he holds me inches from his chest.
But he doesn’t let go. He stares at me as his hand flexes around my arm, warring with emotions that I won’t dare try to identify.
We keep breathing the same air, standing close enough that in a single step, his lips could be on mine, and there wouldn’t be any malice or venom in it like all the other times we’ve come near each other.
I think I might die all over again when his gaze falls to my mouth.
I can barely see him through the darkness, but I can see that.
Maybe it’s wrong of me to want him to lean forward, or maybe I’m so starved for intimacy, I’ll take whatever scraps a demon is willing to give.
But I want him to do it. Want him to show me I’m welcome.
That there is something going on between us that goes deeper than the surface. That I don’t repel him.
But at the same time, I don’t want him to come nearer after what he’s done—and knowing he’ll leave me behind the first chance he gets. The voice at the back of my mind is telling me that this is only because he’s bored. It’s not about me—can’t be.
It’s what my mother would tell me.
That line of thinking doesn’t get to go any further because Lynx suddenly pulls me behind him, and in a blink, moonlight catches on his horns and a tail whips out, raised in warning as a threatening growl trembles through the night.
Fear drops my internal temperature to near frozen conditions—what if it’s the monster Lynx is searching for? My body stills, unsure whether to fight or take flight.
I grasp his shirt and peer around Lynx just as he snarls, “Fuck off.”
I blink against the darkness, trying to make out the shape of the yellow-eyed beast prowling forward between the trees.
“Tidus?” I ask, feeling my muscles unwind with the two syllables.
He tips his head to the side and drops something from his mouth. I let go of Lynx to inch closer and inspect his chew toy.
It’s a fucking foot. Mauled to oblivion so I can’t make heads or tails about who it once belonged to.
Anger slices up my spine. Has the fuckhead not done enough damage? “Jesus Christ, you—”
The hellhound perks up and lifts his snout in the direction of the manor, but neither Lynx nor I react to our fucked-up situation fast enough. There’s the telltale sound of a car door slamming shut, and then Tidus is thundering toward the house.
And the fear comes barreling back.
Images of dismembered cops and my parents waltzing through the front door flash through my mind.
Lynx and I curse and break into a sprint after the little shit, uselessly screaming his name. He neither listens, nor slows down. I run faster than I did all the times the demon chased me down, fueled by adrenaline, terror, and spite.
We hear the screaming before we break past the line of trees. The bloodcurdling sound raises the hairs on the back of my neck. It doesn’t stop. It’s a symphony of carnage, harmonized with feral growls and metal tearing.
I push harder, willing my legs to move faster until my legs burn.
Lynx is too far ahead for me to see him, but when I round the corner, I find him in front of the manor, wrestling Tidus in the middle of a bunch of people that look closer to death than life. I stumble, but I don’t stop.
A van sits at the edge of the driveway beside what looks like filming equipment. Plastered in white and red on the black metal are three words: Grim’s Paranormal Investigators.
My attention swings to the hellhound when he squeals, then he’s running in a different direction with a leg between his maw.
Lynx doesn’t chase after him, turning his focus to the four men bleeding out on my front lawn.
One of them has eyes as unseeing as mine, as does his friend, staring blankly at the manor with organs spilling out from between the deep gash clawed through his torso.
The third man is much the same, except with a missing leg.
Bile lurches up my throat, and I slap a hand over my mouth, breathing hard against the copper scent heavy in the air.
I think I’m going to throw up.
This is—Jesus fucking Christ. I don’t think I can keep looking, but my eyes… Curiosity is going to kill me.
Another man has two large open wounds in his shoulder where his arms should be. But he’s…
“Lynx, he’s alive.” I point a trembling hand at him and the ragged rise and fall of his chest.
Without missing a beat, Lynx storms over to the man and snaps his neck.
I scream—because what the fuck?
I hunch over, heaving and clutching my stomach as nonexistent bile threatens to rise. I screw my eyes shut to keep from seeing the scene. It’s just—this is one bad dream. None of it is real.
The smell of copper sticks to the back of my throat, and I stumble back. Being murdered is different to witnessing a murder.
It was the smart call. He was never going to survive his wounds. But still.
Oh God.
The police are going to come back now. They’re going to come looking for these assholes and then they’re going to see the blood everywhere. Then they’re going to find my corpse, and the corpse of that Connor douche.
No.
Think.
Think.
“We need to get rid of the evidence.” My voice wavers.
Fuck, I never thought I’d have to hide a body that isn’t mine.
We need to make sure that motherfucking dog never comes back. We need to get rid of the van somehow. The rain that’s coming will get rid of the blood, but we need to clean everything up before someone else comes.
And for God’s sake, we’re going to need a security system in place to stop anyone else from coming in.
I inhale shakily, my eyes darting between the men and trying not to notice the organs strewn across the driveway.
“It has to be six feet deep this time, or else Tidus will dig him up.”
Lynx kicks one of the men as if to double-check he’s dead. “I’ll make it ten, then.”
I nod at the man with the missing leg. “I-I’ll go find the rest of him.” And the hound.
Not even Satan can help Tidus once I get my hands on him.