Chapter Eleven
“Wake up. Hellloooo.”
Pain lit my cheek.
“I said, get up.”
I slowly came to, descending into agony.
My head ached. Temples throbbed. Cheek stung. Wrists burned.
The final realization pushed back on the grogginess. Why did my wrists burn?
Blinking, my vision blurred on a face.
“Finally,” a voice said. “I was a minute away from starting the party without you.”
Blonde hair came into focus, and little by little, the brown eyes became clear. A round nose. Thin lips.
And a name.
“Zoey?”
My former orientation tour guide beamed. “Look at that. There is intelligent life on this planet. I was worried those knocks to the head rung your bell for the final time, you crazy bitch.”
I bristled. Why the hell was this woman talking to me like that? And where was I?
Drifting up, I peered through crisscrossing metal to the clear night sky.
We were outside and on Chaney Bridge by the looks of it.
“Hmm.”
What am I doing here? What was I doing before?
“Hmm! Hmm!”
What’s that—?
Zoey stepped out of the way, and I fell on Arsenio, Cairo, Jacques, and Legend—wrists bound and suspended from ropes tied overhead. They balanced on a ledge on the balls of their feet. Gags stretched their mouths open.
“Guys!” I raced to them and made it three steps.
My bound hands yanked me off my feet and smashed me against the rail.
Zoey laughed herself sick.
She was dressed in a bright yellow sundress with a matching bow keeping her bangs out of her face. You’d have thought she was going out to a picnic, if not for the crossbow held in her gloved hands.
I squinted. My crossbow.
“Where are you running off to? The fun just started.”
“What the fuck are you doing?!” I screamed. “Let us go.”
“Now why would I do that... Angel?”
Cold dread climbed my spine. “What did you say?”
“Need me to spell it out,” she sang. “I promised I was arranging a meeting for us and here we are. I’d have thought you’d be happy, seeing as you put so much effort into finding me.”
“You?” I scurried back as she closed the distance. “But— But how? Why?”
“How and why you already know. But you forgot.” Zoey rolled her eyes. “How convenient.”
“You’re the Letter Man,” I sliced in.
“Woman. Thank you very much.”
“But you... Blake Jensen...”
My conversation with Craig came roaring back.
“Blake. Is he in this photo? Point him out.”
“Blake’s not—”
“A guy,” I whispered. “He was going to say that Blake isn’t a guy. The face he pointed out!”
I snapped up to her. In my mind, I moved past the person I thought Craig pointed at, to the girl I dismissed outright.
Her hair was brunette. The round nose was pointed, but the resemblance couldn’t be denied.
“You’re Blake Jensen.”
“Correction: I was Blake Jensen.”
“And Dante? How did you...?” I trailed off, my mind struggling under the new information.
“Oh, I’m not Dante. But the new guy is a friend,” she said. “He kindly made a few changes to the show, and added lines to his script when I asked. I have friends, Angel. Everywhere.”
“You’re not Dante, but you are Blake.”
She gestured with my crossbow. “I changed my name to Zoey Mariner the second I hit eighteen. Ugh. You don’t know the hell I went through. My parents thought it’d be cool and revolutionary to give me a guy’s name. Instead, I was bullied relentlessly. They called me a man. Stole my tampons, saying that guys didn’t need them. It was awful.”
“Boo hoo. I don’t give a fuck about your sob story.” I strained in my binds. “You shot Colton. You killed Bella! And the guys. Get them down from there right now.”
Zoey aimed the bow at Legend and fired.
“No!”
He jerked out of the way and the arrow sailed past, missing him so narrowly I heard his jacket tear.
“You’re not in a position to make demands, so don’t do it again. You are, however, lucky that I’m in a sharing mood. Go on,” she sang. “Ask me all about my dastardly plan. Why did you do it? How did you get away with it? I love this part.”
I spat at her feet.
She heaved a sigh. “You always were stubborn.”
“You don’t know me.”
“Au contraire. If you want to get technical, I’d say I’m the only one who knows the real you. Come on. Haven’t you put it together yet?”
“We met during that blurred-out year of my life while I was on the meds. I get it,” I mocked. “But if you think that drugged-up robot is the real me, you don’t understand how blackouts work. Anything I did”—I thought of the body at Black Widow Hill—“or didn’t do. It wasn’t a choice.”
Giving me her back, Zoey shot at the ropes keeping Arsenio out of the water below.
“Hmm!”
“Stop!”
“Here’s how this goes,” she said. “I couldn’t have you driving the Crows out of town too early, because they hadn’t accepted my price yet. You see, you’re not the only one I’ve sent letters to. But I bet you thought you were special. Aww.”
My teeth clenched. I had this person pegged before I knew her.
She’s enjoying this.
“Now that Cavendish is dead and the leash is off, I’m offering my services to the highest bidder,” she explained. “I sent a few letters to Jeremy Ellis telling him that when he eventually failed against the Bedlam Boys, and he was meant to fail, I’d kill them for fifty grand.”
Zoey dropped that like a McDonald’s order.
“He kept up that he could handle this himself. That’s until the light show in the square. He hired me the second he woke up in the hospital. Only ten grand each. A bargain. Though I am missing one,” she muttered. “Should’ve waited, but we’ve waited so long to do this.”
My heart shot in my throat. One sentence penetrated.
“Kill them?” Tears stung as I took in the ropes, and the death she chose for them. “Don’t do this. You said you wouldn’t.”
“Well, when I said that, I didn’t have twenty-five grand in the bank. Keep up.”
Tears ran down my cheeks. Behind my back, I wriggled my wrists, working to get free.
“That said, I didn’t bring you out here to watch them die. If you do, that will be your choice.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that in honor of our past friendship, I’m willing to let you go in their place.” She motioned to the ledge above my head. “Jump and I let the Bedlam Boys go free.”
The guys shouted through their gag.
“Refuse, and I keep shooting these arrows till they’re either full of holes. Or, I get lucky with my aim, catch the rope, and it snaps—gifting them a cold, watery death. Because you broke the rules again, Rainey. You told the police about me even though I’ve warned you over and over again. I treat you as a friend, but you haven’t done the same for me. It’s time I stopped giving you chances. You won’t talk me out of the decision coming your way. But you can delay it by indulging me and dragging the conversation out as long as you can. So.”
Zoey leaned over me and sliced my binds just like that. She backed up and leveled my bow on the guys.
“What’s it going to be?”
Straightening, I gripped the railing—cold metal biting my skin.
There were two trucks on either end of the bridge, blocking the opening. One was Cairo’s, and the other I saw in the police station parking lot most mornings.
Davidson.
I pushed the name away, focusing solely on Zoey and the healthy stash of arrows in her quiver.
If I keep her talking long enough, I can delay until someone tries to drive across the bridge and sees what’s happening here.
“How do I know you won’t hurt them anyway? I kill myself and then you loose those ropes, collecting another twenty-five grand.”
“If there’s anything I honor, Angel, it’s a sacrifice.” She said that with a seriousness she hadn’t used before. “If you give your life for them, they will be spared.”
“Okay,” I said clearly. “You win. How did you go from that sweet kid smiling with her friends, to a killer?”
“Ah, now that’s an interesting story,” she mused, pointing my bow at Cairo, Arsenio, Cairo, then Arsenio. She laughed as they shouted at her.
“I met Scott while he was working the youth center, and he saw something in me. By then, the bullies were harassing me just because they could. It stopped being about my name a long way back.
“Scott took me under his wing. He told me about my legacy and that the people I came from didn’t take shit from anybody. Then, he taught me how to make anyone who hurt me scream.” She winked. “He was a good friend to me. To us. But the guy was paranoid and locked under too many rules. He would not have approved of the little deal I made with the Crows.
“Last year, I made one mistake and he came down on me. Hard. It was no small relief when he got that death wish and ordered you to kill him. Now I’m free to do what I want.”
Scott Cavendish was her mentor and supposed friend, and she cheered his fiery death. That answered the question of if sociopaths could make friends they gave a real care about.
No.
“Why do you think we know each other?” I asked. I took a step closer.
“That’s far enough.” Zoey swung the bow on me. “Hands on the ledge at all times. If you let go”—she flashed and loosed an arrow that struck Arsenio’s thigh—“so do I.”
“Arsenio!”
His muffled cries shredded my heart in two.
“Stop it,” I screamed. “You said you wouldn’t if we talked.”
She shrugged. “I’m just demonstrating the consequences. I noticed that when I do, I never have to repeat myself.”
“You don’t.” I strangled the metal. “You don’t have to demonstrate. I’m listening to you. I’m giving you what you want.
“Hold on, Arsenio.” I poured my pleas and comfort into my gaze. “I’ll get you down from there.”
“Ugh. Enough about him. We’re in the middle of a conversation, bitch. Don’t be rude.”
You’re going to see who’s the fucking bitch when I’m done.
“How do we know each other?” I forced through gritted teeth.
“Oh, that’s easy.” She beamed. “We hooked up after your grandma got herself killed.”
I reeled back.
“Yeah. You were pretty messed up over it. Wanted revenge like no one I’ve ever seen,” she said. “Scott came to you through work. He did the farm’s accounts for free. A favor for your grandmother because she brought his mom free produce when she was laid up with cancer and couldn’t get out of bed.”
“Oh my gosh,” I breathed. “Gran was the connection. Not Walker Lewis. How did I not know this? Why didn’t I remember him?”
“You didn’t meet till after she was killed. Why would you? I don’t know who the fuck my parents’ accountant is.” She shrugged. “Anyway, Scott got close to you, and you started talking a lot of crazy, violent stuff. He sent you the letters first—checking to make sure you were receptive to the help he was willing to offer. When you didn’t go running to the police, he told you who he was, and that he’d gladly help you sacrifice Andrew Clein in the name of your grandmother.”
“No,” I cried. “No!”
Pain pounded my temples.
I dropped to my knees, eyes squeezing shut as I cried out—from which pain, I couldn’t guess.
“You’re lying!”
“How would I know this if I was lying?” Zoey laughed. “The three—five—seven of us— I won’t tell you exactly how many of us there are. Because all that matters is you, me, and Cavendish had our own thing going on. You and I became friends.”
Temper leaked into her voice. “You taught me how to shoot an arrow. Not as good as you, but good enough. I taught you how to break a man’s arm in a single twist. That’s what you did to Andrew Clein first,” she hissed. “Broke his arm.”
“Stop it!”
Flashes bombarded my mind. Blurred faces, places, scenes that moved too quickly for me to grab one and make it real.
“We got so close, we started watching that time travel show you like. Every Saturday with a bowl of popcorn and homemade tacos. I called you Angel because the Weeping Angels are your favorite monster in the show. That’s who you were to me. My favorite monster.”
“No,” I sobbed. “It’s not true. None of this is true.”
“It is true!” she roared. “Snap out of this boring mental breakdown and wake up! We were friends. You know it. You remember.”
“No!”
But I did.
Fragmented pieces formed a picture of me and a brunette Blake Jensen, laughing and joking while doing target practice on a hay bale. Who would I let touch my precious bows and arrows from Gran, other than a friend?
“There it is,” she hissed. Zoey was suddenly in my face, bending my neck back by the hair. “See? I knew you were still in there, Angel.”
“Stop. P-please.”
“Oh, now you beg? We begged.” She dug the arrow tip in my neck, breaking the skin. “Scott asked you to sacrifice one worthless guy to further our cause, and you refused. Said you didn’t get into this to hurt innocent people. We tried to make you see!”
My head shook in her grip.
“No one is innocent, but everyone is honored in sacrifice.”
“No.”
The pressure in my skull was unbearable. Each horrid word from her snarling lips drove the spike deeper, unleashing a flood of memories that couldn’t be true!
“The sheriff had something we needed. All of a sudden, the stubborn oaf grew a backbone. Refused to give Scott what he asked, so he ordered you to sacrifice the sheriff’s son.”
Eyes huge, Cairo stopped struggling.
“But oh no,” Zoey carried on. “Cairo was innocent. Just a teenager. There had to be another way. Blah, blah, blah. Scott said you had two days to gut the guy, or you’d watch while I did it. You walked into the sheriff’s station that day and told Davidson everything.”
“No,” I whispered.
Yes.
I remembered the station bell chiming. Recalled Davidson’s smile as he said the sheriff was out, but he’d be happy to help me.
Zoey tsked. “Such a shame. If only Andres was on shift that day. We’d be in prison, and none of what came next would’ve happened.”
“Oh no,” I breathed, folding onto the pavement.
My hands came off the ledge and Zoey didn’t care. Glee twisted her smile as the spike pried loose the final memory.
“Yes, Angel.” Her voice neared a soft coo. “You remember how we punished you. The night we busted into the farmhouse, catching you making a cup of tea like all your troubles were over. What did we do, bitch?”
I tossed my head, shaking roughly. But the vision would not stop unfolding.
The body in the barn. Broken, twisted, and beyond help.
“What did we do to you?”
The woman—for now I knew she was a woman—that I buried at Black Widow Hill, did not answer my calls then, nor did she in the memory.
I heard the name I called her. I saw her face when I flipped her over.
“What did we do?”
“You killed me,” I whispered, pain fading as it all came back. “I died that night.”
“Yes.” Zoey released my hair and stroked my cheek. “That’s it. Remember.”
“I forgot about dying.”
My voice was small. Pleading.
“How could I forget?”
“It’s okay.” Zoey kissed my forehead. Standing up, she backed away, aiming my bow at my now silent boys. “You were special, Angel. Only you could live on after death. Even so, you must pay for what you’ve done. Give back the time that wasn’t yours.”
I rose on shaky knees.
“Scott believed we could bring you back through blood, clues, and letters. But he should have known.” Zoey lined the shot at Cairo’s heart. The expert marksman I was, I knew this time she wouldn’t miss.
“The dead only return through sacrifice.”
I looked down below at the black, icy waters.
“Now it’s time to make your choice,” she barked. “You? Or the Bedlam—”
I climbed onto the ledge and jumped off.