Chapter 20
TO BE TRUTHFUL, I HAVE NO IDEA HOW SPRINTING AND racing actually works. The only time I’ve ever participated in a race it was one Carrera del pavo and even then I missed the countdown. I’ve never known if we’re mean to start on three or a beat after.
However, as my heart speeds to my last count, I don’t hesitate.
When I reach three, Danny and I move in unison, cohesively taking a step forward, directing our bodies toward Cupid.
Fast and sudden but perfectly matching the girls’ pacing.
It’s quick enough to give them a head start in the opposite direction, heading to the corner where the halls meet.
They know what they need to do and so do we.
As Danny and I move, Cupid does too, mirroring our movements. He lunges forward, swinging the machete. A warning that he’s ready to chop our limbs off if we continue down this path.
But there’s no option other than to keep moving forward.
We move together, as if our minds were working as one, directing our bodies in synchronized steps through the dim hall.
Seemingly annoyed by our determination to keep going, Cupid grunts and runs straight at us, lifting the machete in the air.
“Get down!” Danny exclaims and snaps into action as he finishes speaking.
His arm pushes me down to the floor, forcing my body to bend in half, just in time to avoid Cupid’s machete. Behind me, the sharp blade meets the wall where my head was a second ago, scraping itself along the dry wall. Pieces of dust fall over my shoulders and I gasp out a choked sound.
Danny doesn’t stall from the shock like I do, instead he pushes Cupid away while I get up onto my unsteady feet, giving me an opportunity to recover.
The killer stumbles, losing balance for a split second.
His body clumsily stumbles, but not enough to fall.
It would be too good to be true in this Murphy’s Law horror house.
We can only hope for brief instances of salvation.
Cupid recovers quickly, almost impossibly fast. For a moment, I wonder if he did some drugs to prepare for this night or if he’s simply incredibly agile, powered by anger or adrenaline—or both—as he leaps at us, jabbing the machete at Danny.
But my boy has strong reflexes, avoiding the blade by a few inches. The tip of the blade cuts into the dry wall next to his elbow.
I jerk backwards as I evade the swing that comes for me. I lower my body near to the ground and notice the girls are nowhere to be seen. A joyful rush spreads through my limbs, and a wave of power runs through my veins.
With Cupid focused on us, we can move from here with the reassurance that he won’t follow them. He has no idea where they’re going.
Anger spills out of him in grunts as he brandishes the machete.
Behind the mask, he puffs for air, his chest raising and falling at a rapid rate. Temptation rolls in my system, wanting to goad him to cause a bigger distraction. The chances that he’ll follow us increase the angrier he gets.
The words slip from my lips before I can consider if this is a good idea.
“Can you even breathe in that mask, or are you carrying an oxygen tank under those robes?” Snark drips from my tone. “It would explain why you’re so fucking slow.”
Danny lets out a choked snort, completely caught off guard.
I’m too committed to distracting Cupid.
There’s nothing that triggers a killer’s temper more than sassy remarks and an attitude.
While I don’t have the physical strength to fight him off or acute reflexes like Danny, I’ve been trained by a mean little sister.
Learning how to deliver punches with my words has been a skill I’ve developed over time, cautiously picking up on her sarcasm and brutal sassiness.
Cupid halts for a split second, only to react a moment later, kicking me in the knees.
I buckle forward, and if it weren’t for Danny, I would fall on my face. His hands wrap around my arms, hoisting me up to prevent Cupid from taking advantage of my vulnerability. I realize a second later that if I had fallen, I would’ve been in the perfect position for a beheading.
Acid overflows in my mouth, mixing with thick saliva. It’s a struggle to gulp it down to prevent it from taking over.
“Stairs,” I mumble at Danny.
He turns his head to the side, eyeing the end of the corridor where the stairs begin, and he nods.
Without waiting to think about it or starting a new countdown, he pulls me by the arm along with him as he sprints in that direction.
My legs struggle to keep up with his long strides.
His days of baseball glory show in the way he runs fast and lightly, but I manage to hold my own, maintaining a constant rhythm.
I have no other choice because Cupid stomps behind us.
“We need a weapon,” I tell Danny, holding on to the banister to prevent myself from falling as I reach the steps.
He moves his head in agreement.
“Kitchen?”
“Kitchen,” I concur.
Keeping up the pace as we go down the stairs is hard, especially when we stumble upon Jaden and Shane. Both of their bodies are now hanging off the ledge of the banister.
Nausea bubbles in my mouth, and I have to urge the contents of my stomach to stay in place as I make it through. Danny’s hand tightens its hold on me when he sees the bodies, but he manages to keep it together, going past them without any reaction. Since he manages to ignore it, so do I.
My hesitation could mean my death.
Or, even worse, Danny’s death.
We pick up the pace when we reach the ground floor. This time, we don’t stop to check the corners because the killer is at our heels.
Although my lungs scream at me to gasp for air, I run like hell with Danny. Not slowing down even though my thighs burn and ache like hell. I don’t want to end up impaled on Cupid’s machete.
I bet it would made a nice addition to his killing collection. More than a game, it seems to be an art for him, and he’s planning on turning us into his next bloody masterpiece.
“We’re almost there, baby,” Danny huffs out.
Clearly, my lack of physical activity is showing because I feel faint from the run and he’s noticed it. I force myself to keep going as we go through the archway into the kitchen.
Holy fuck.
I’m slightly taken aback by the huge, fancy kitchen. It seems like Theta put all their renovation money into the kitchen and forgot to spread the budget evenly through the house. If I wasn’t being chased by a psycho, I would sit back and admire the refined and sleek aesthetic of the room.
But there’s no time. Only an instant long enough to run to the cabinets and open the drawers in search of what I need. Spoons, forks, butter knives . . .
“Where the fuck do they keep the carving knives?”
“Keep looking!” Danny exclaims and, before I can process it, he runs straight for Cupid, misdirecting the machete away from me.
“Puneta,” I gasp in shock, my eyes wide.
If it weren’t for my knight in bloody shirt, I’d be suffering from a horrible injury.
Loss of a limb, probably.
Maybe even my head.
Cupid is determined on having my head, by the looks of it.
“Mabel!” Danny yells at me, forcing me back into motion.
I can’t waste time when every second is invaluable.
Nodding along, I continue rummaging through the drawers until I find what I need. A row of knives neatly put together. I don’t waste any more time, grabbing the hilt of the biggest knife I can find.
Game fucking on.
Let’s even out the playing field. This time, it’s two against one, and Danny is holding the fort, wrestling with Cupid for the machete while trying his hardest not to get cut.
Cupid kicks Danny in the gut and then pushes him hard, knocking the air out of him.
Danny stumbles against the kitchen island and lets out a pained groan.
I need to act quickly.
Led by pure instinct and the thrill of revenge, I bury the knife in Cupid’s shoulder.
The same way he did with Carmen. The flesh makes a thwack as the blade carves a sheath in the shoulder.
Stabbing requires an amount of strength I wasn’t ready for.
I have to force the knife through the layers of clothing, skin and muscles, pushing the hilt with my palm further into his body.
I don’t care about stabbing him when he’s done far worse things. Hunting us for fun, killing all those people. This ends now.
He’s going to be the last victim.
A shriek escapes his lips, in a higher pitch than I was expecting.
Blood gushes over us as I pull the knife out, squirting me with red.
I realize he’s not as tall as he seemed.
If anything, he’s around my height now. Did I make him taller in my mind because I was terrified?
Maybe now that I’m high on the power I’m perceiving him as shorter.
Behind me, I hear Danny rummaging for another knife.
I brace myself, giving in to the darkness in me as I get ready to stab Cupid again. This time, I’m going for the torso.
Gathering momentum, Cupid throws his head back and then headbutts me before I can plunge the knife into him.
Pain spreads through my face, blindsiding me for a second as it pulses under my skin.
“Mabel!” Danny’s voice reaches me just as the machete slashes my arm.
I don’t feel the blade cutting me until the burn spreads through the gash. It’s a miracle I don’t drop the knife, but it definitely weakens my hold on it. An animal noise reverberates in the kitchen, and it takes me a second to realize it comes from me.
I’m the wounded animal.
Danny’s hands pull me backward through the kitchen.
I let him lead me away from Cupid just in time to prevent another slash.
As we move, Cupid does too, making sure to swing the machete from side to side, forcing us back until we hit a half-open door.
He pushes it wider and shoves us inside.
The space feels colder here, and I’m not sure if it’s because I’m entering a state of shock from the recent injury, or if there’s an actual temperature change.
Then, all of a sudden, Cupid stops attacking.