Chapter 29 Chloe #2
I scream and jerk away from the horror and there’s a terrible explosion that makes my ears ring and my whole body slam backward. Sheetrock showers down across Owen’s unmoving body, soaking up the blood.
“Fuck,” I whisper, fumbling with the gun. I hadn’t even realized I had my finger on the trigger. Don’t forget to pump it, Janet said, but I have no idea how to do that. I pull on the stock the way I’ve seen people do in movies, but nothing happens.
Theo steps toward me, his axe dripping blood at his side.
“Get away from me!” I scream, scrambling backward across the hallway until I slam up against the far wall. Theo stops, and I’m too paralyzed with fear to move.
Something clanks. I realize he’s dropped the axe to the floor.
“I’m sorry,” he signs. “I couldn’t stop it.”
“Why did you do this?” I shriek, bracing my back against the wall to push myself up to standing. “I told you I would—”
Take care of it, that’s what I want to say. But I didn’t take care of it. Calling CPS did nothing.
Theo signs something, but between the blood and the bright lights and the film of my tears, I don’t think I understood. It almost looks like I knew it would be you.
“I trusted you!” I point the gun at his chest, like Janet said, and he doesn’t react at all. Just gazes at it with the same calm expression he used when we were sitting in front of the fire.
He signs again, and this time, I catch Oliver’s name.
“Oliver,” I whisper. “What did you do with Oliver?”
Theo’s hands move, slower this time. “Oliver is safe.”
I stare at him, hook my finger onto the trigger of the shotgun. Maybe it will still work.
“You killed his entire family,” I whisper.
“They didn’t love him,” Theo says.
My chest tightens. My hands shake, and the gun rattles in my grip. “And you expect me to believe that you do?”
Theo stares at me through the mask of blood on his face, his eyes the brightest thing in the room. I think, just for a second, that I see a woundedness in them.
“You won’t understand,” he says, each movement slow and careful. “But if I hadn’t done this, I might have unintentionally hurt him.”
I swear I see his hands shake.
“Or you.”
“Bullshit!” In a surge of adrenaline, I squeeze the trigger. Nothing happens. I look down at the gun in horror.
Theo moves closer to me, and I immediately jerk it up, holding it like a baseball bat. He holds out one hand, palm up, curls his fingers in. Give it to me.
“Get away,” I snarl, swinging the gun. He catches, and the strength of his grip reverberates down my arm.
Then he drags me up to him.
The stench of blood is overwhelming, a thick wet stink that’s like the inside of a human body. But I also think, just for a second, that I smell him. That scent like pine trees.
Disgust swells in my stomach. I try to jerk away. Theo grabs my arm, his hand sticky. “No.” He grabs my chin and makes me look at him. “Listen to me,” he signs with his free hand.
“Where’s Oliver?” I snarl.
“Hiding. Unharmed.” Theo pauses. “I told him not to come out until you said it was safe.”
I can’t breathe. “You can’t expect me to think,” I gasp out. “That it’s safe now?”
Theo shakes his head, his eyes never leaving mine. Then he tilts his head toward the gun.
“I always die,” he says. “It’s the only way to make the kill-moon happy.”
“The what?” I shriek, terror lancing through me. How the hell did I ever let this monster touch me? How did I ever think I could trust him?
The bruises around my throat seem to burn.
“I can’t stop it,” Theo says. “Not until I’m dead.” He looks at me through the mask of blood on his face, eyes gleaming. “Please, Chloe. Kill me so this can be over.”
I tremble. “You can just stop,” I whisper, arms shaking. “Just stop killing—”
Theo shakes his head. “You don’t understand. It wants me to keep going. But someone always kills me. The old farmer in sixty-five. The cops in eighty-seven.” His eyes gleam. “The woman in oh-one.”
I let out a soft, choking sob, tears streaking down my face. Theo watches me for a moment. Then he says, “And you. Now.”
He steps forward, and I shriek and try to move away from him, but the walls block me. Theo grabs the barrel of the gun and presses it against his chest. He stares at me, waiting.
“And you,” he signs again. “Now.”
My heart feels ragged. Ripped in two. I keep thinking about his rough hands on my skin, his hungry and devouring kisses. It feels like they came from another person, not this blood-drenched madman, the bodies of his victims littered around me.
“It doesn’t work,” I whisper. “The gun.”
Theo pulls the gun out of my arms, slow and cautious. I try to stop him, squeezing down on it, but it doesn’t matter. He’s too strong.
I expect him to point at me. Or to snap it in two and wrap his hand around my throat and kill me for real.
He doesn’t, though. Instead, he racks the shell into place, the sound loud and terrible in the silence of the house.
He offers the gun back to me, his eyes on mine. They’re like dry ice, so cold they burn right through me.
“Please,” he signs one-handed, and I think I can feel his desperation. It has to be my imagination. “Please, I want it to be you. Just promise you’ll keep him safe.”
Oliver. I know he’s talking about Oliver even though it feels absurd. Tears drip down my cheeks.
Theo presses the butt of the gun into my chest, and I reach up with shaking arms and take it, my breath ragged.
“The police will be here soon,” he says. “Please, Chloe. I don’t want it to be them. I want it to be you.”
The movements of his hand leave an impression on the back of my eyes. I want it to be you.
“Why did you have to do this?” I whisper, my voice ragged from my tears.
“Because it’s what I am.” Theo directs the shotgun barrel to his chest so that it points right into his heart. “I know I’ve lost you. Just let it start over again. Please.”
I sob again. The gun shifts sideways. Theo doesn’t move.
“I never hurt you,” he says. “I never hurt Oliver. And now it will stay that way.”
I curl my finger around the trigger, my whole body shaking. The stink of blood is so heavy around us. I can’t believe all the blood I’ve seen tonight. All the death. It’s not like it is in my imagination.
Penelope warned me. I thought I knew what Theo is, but she actually understands. And she tried to tell me.
I suck in a breath, brace my back against the wall. Somewhere, off in the distance, police sirens wail.
Theo meets my gaze. His hands move. “I’m begging you, Chloe.”
Behind him, Owen stares at us from the floor with dead and empty eyes. And I think, That’s my fault.
I let this happen. All this death. All this blood. It’s my fucking fault.
I scream through my rage, and as I scream, my finger compresses down, and an explosion erupts between me and the monster I almost let myself love.