Waiting for April

by Jaime Loren

  It was dangerous for us to be together, but too dangerous for us to be apart, and staying away from her in the past had driven her to suicide.

  But at least we now knew she wasn’t destined to slip and break her neck in the shower. Or randomly sleepwalk into a lake. Although that meant someone had tried to kill her out at the cabin, right under my nose.

  How?

  I took her hand in mine as we walked up the porch steps, rubbing my thumb across her skin. Henry came to the door to greet us, and although I’d only been gone a month, he looked years older. Guilt sometimes crept in when I looked at him. I should’ve been dead over a century before he was born. If only I could give him some of my youth, and keep him here with me longer.

  He shook my hand, but I let go of April and took him in my arms. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m all right,” he said, pulling back and patting me on the arm. “How did you go?”

  “Good. Very good.” Throwing a glance over my shoulder, I caught April as she wobbled on her feet. “Whoa. Hey.” I grabbed her before she dropped, and Henry took her other arm as we ushered her inside and sat her down on the couch.

  Tom shot me a look that mirrored my own fear.

  “What’s going on?” I asked her. “Have you eaten much today?” I hoped it was as easy as that.

  “Not really.”

  Henry brought her a glass of juice and a jelly sandwich, and she took a few sips, but she ate like a bird. A bird that was already full. After a few nibbles, she still had no color to her face, so I took her down to my room to lie down.

  “Are you in any pain?” I asked, pressing on her stomach.

  She swatted my hand away. “I’m not dying.”

  “Don’t even joke about that.”

  “I’m not. I’m just tired. Will you lie with me a while?”

  My heart seized. I leaned in and kissed her. “Tell me you’re okay?”

  “I didn’t sleep last night. I forgot to eat today. I guess I was a little too excited you were home.” She smiled.

  “Well,” I said with more energy. “I am more than excited to be home. I’ve missed this delicious face.” I bent down and playfully nipped her cheek, and she giggled softly, which put me at ease.

  But she was still lacking her usual energy. She was two weeks away from moving to Cambridge. Her early eighteenth birthday party was going to be in two days.

  “They died just like me, Scott,” she whispered, staring at my chest. “Every single one of them died like me.”

  Dread curdled in my gut. “Every one of them?”

  She nodded and closed her eyes, spilling tears. “But they all got to come back and live normally. Why can’t I?” she cried.

  My throat constricted as I took her in my arms, soothing her.

  Five minutes later, she was asleep.

  *****

  I left her sleeping soundly in my bed a few hours later and walked out into the living room.

  Henry looked up from the book he was reading. “Everything okay?”

  I ran a hand through my hair. “No.”

  “She’s been … a little introverted, lately. For weeks she was full speed ahead, but I think she’s a bit burned out right now. Maybe she just needs some rest. A proper sleep, now that you’re back.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” I sighed. “She’s really upset about these girls. I think she blames herself.”

  “Tom filled me in. So you think this same guy is killing all the girls?”

  “It’s possible. April’s the key, but what are these other women to him?”

  “Practice,” Tom said from behind.

  I turned around, and Henry stood up.

  “Come with me.”

  We followed him down to the office. He’d gotten to work while I was with April, spreading photos across the floor and sorting through the research he’d conducted already. I couldn’t thank him enough. If April lived this time, it’d be all thanks to him.

  He held up some papers. “I’ve spoken to a colleague, who put me on to someone in Sydney, and, even though we don’t know for sure …”

  I raised my eyebrows and stepped inside to take a seat.

  “Every religion has its own version of purgatory. Some say that souls who have done wrong during their mortal lives are supposed to stay there until a decision is made over their eternal fate. Others say they are to serve their sentence there before being allowed to return to the mortal coil.”

  “Yeah, I get it. It’s a … jail, effectively.”

  “Right, only, some souls are said to have found a way out before sentencing.”

  “How? Shouldn’t purgatory be a maximum security deal?”

  “How they escape is unclear. All we know is that once they’re out, fate has no control over them. Fate can only control what happens around them.”

  Henry exhaled. “Like rendering Scott immortal, and reincarnating April and all the other girls he kills along the way?”

  “Right. Technically, he’s not supposed to exist, so fate’s working overtime to right all of his wrong doings.”

  “That theory certainly backs up the Iyanifa’s insight into the fact he’s not supposed to be here,” I said. “And the fact all fate can do is return April to me.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But that doesn’t explain why his immortality is dependent on April’s death.”

  Tom held up a finger. “That … I’m still trying to figure out. But!”

  There was a folder April had compiled full of autopsy reports of the girls, and when Tom handed it to me, I had to sink into a chair to keep from losing my legs completely.

  “Jesus. It’s no wonder she’s not herself. She’s just gone through dozens of murder cases that mirror her own.”

  Tom nodded. “That brings me to my next point. You’ll see here,” he said, picking up one photo, then another, and another, lining them up on the table. “This is the first murder. It’s sloppy. But with each victim, he perfects his technique—”

  “Until they’re not even being classified as murders anymore,” I said, struggling to find enough breath for speech. “Christ. April was the finale for every technique.”

  She shouldn’t have had to see these.

  “There’s an envelope here that hasn’t been opened,” Tom said. “I think it might be the results from the hair and marrow.” He offered it to me, and I ripped it open, skimming it as fast as I could.

  “Gold. He poisoned her with gold and arsenic over a long period of time.”

  I choked on my own emotion as I pictured April’s skeleton in that casket, slowly murdered right under my nose.

  Henry laid a hand on my shoulder. “Sick son of a bitch.”

  Tom slowly lowered himself into the chair at the desk. “It’s not about the money for me anymore, Scott.”

  I sniffed. “Ten million can go a long way, Professor.”

  He removed his glasses, his face pale. “Forgive me …”

  “For what?”

  He tilted his head to the other side of the room. My journals were strewn across the floor. When I went to take a closer look, I noticed that each of them had been opened to the pages where I’d recounted April’s deaths.

  “No one with a soul could do the things he has done,” Tom said, his voice filled with revulsion.

  My chest tightened as her deaths flashed through my mind—as if each of them had only happened yesterday. “No.”

  “So I’m in this till the end.”

  I turned to face him.

  Tom’s face was grim. “He doesn’t want to go back for Judgment? Fine. Let’s find this bastard and send him straight to Hell.”

  The corner of my mouth turned up, as did my hopes.

  April’s croaky voice floated in from the doorway. “You won’t have to look far.”

  My heart fumbled, then kicked up a gear. I approached her. “How do you know?”

  “Because I remember who he is,” she said, tears sliding down her cheeks.

  “Who?�
��

  Henry and Tom had both stepped forward, anxiously awaiting her reply.

  “I think you should sit down, Scott,” she whispered.

  My pulse soared. “What do you mean? Who is it?”

  “Sit down?”

  “I’ll stand,” I said, shifting on my feet. “April, tell me who it is and I’ll end him.”

  She sobbed, then offered up a photo. “He didn’t get out of the car when you ran into Stell in Millinocket because he knew you’d probably recognize him. I mean, he’s changed a lot, but … it’s him.”

  As soon as I saw his face, I wished I was sitting down. I stared at it for what seemed like hours.

  “I feel like such an idiot for not recognizing him sooner, but—” April choked on her words, and Henry wrapped his arms around her, soothing her. “But I didn’t remember what he looked like before. I couldn’t remember him.”

  The eyes … the freckle … the tiny scar just above his left eye …

  I hadn’t seen him for nearly three hundred years. He was a couple of years older. He’d bulked up and grown his hair. He was taller—so much taller. He looked nothing like the young boy I once knew. He was only sixteen years old when …

  “No.” I shook my head and looked up at April, horrified.

  “I’m so sorry,” she cried.

  I sank into the nearest chair, numb.

  “Scott?” Tom asked.

  “He was only sixteen when he first …”

  Killed April. He’d been killing April.

  I squeezed my eyes closed. “He was … is?” I shook my head in disbelief. “His name is John Parker.” I glanced at Tom. “He’s my brother.”

  “Scott!” John whined.

  “Be quiet,” I said.

  “But there aren’t supposed to be any girls here! Girls aren’t allowed. It’s written on the sign!”

  “It’s just April.”

  “And I’m not a girl?” April called from the bottom of the tree, her hands on her hips.

  “You’re a stupid girl!” John yelled back from the top of the ladder.

  “I can still beat you in a fight, mister!”

  “I’d like to see you try.” John poked out his tongue.

  “Oh yeah? Come down here and do that!”

  “Why don’t you come up here?” John challenged, not realizing the invite was exactly what April was trying to force out of him the whole time.

  She grinned. “Okay. I will.” She began climbing the ladder, trying not to step on her dress.

  “Scott, tell her to go away!”

  I laughed. “She’s not going to hurt you, John.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Scott Parker,” April said as she continued up the ladder.

  “Scott!” John’s voice was panicked.

  My eyes were on April as she neared the middle of the ladder, but when the sunlight warming my face disappeared, I looked over to see John holding a rock the size of his eight-year-old head. He raised it over her.

  “John! No!” I lunged for him, and he knocked his head against the wall of the tree fort, the rock landing on his foot. He started crying, and I dropped to my knees at his side, my hands shaking. “John …”

  April’s head appeared at the top of the ladder, eyes wide with concern.

  “Go away!” John cried.

  She looked to me for the final word.

  “Sorry, April. No girls allowed,” I told her, wrapping my arm around John’s shoulder.

  Her chin trembled, making me feel horrible. “Fine. I didn’t want to play with you anyway, Scott Parker.”

  She disappeared down the ladder.

  “I don’t know why you like her,” John cried, rubbing his head.

  I watched as April ran back across the field toward her house, wiping her tears away.

  My heart ached. “I don’t.”

  When I was overcome with emotion, April pulled away from Henry and stepped forward to take me in her arms. She then looked up at Tom and Henry.

  “He now goes by the name Joshua Banks.”

  Chapter 46

  (April)

  I couldn’t imagine the amount of pain Scott was going through. He wouldn’t even come and hold me in bed last night, his guilt was so great. We’d all tried to tell him he couldn’t have known, but he felt he’d failed me, and wouldn’t listen to reason when I tried to tell him otherwise.

  Now was definitely not the time to tell him we were having a baby. The news about John was already too much.

  With Scott momentarily out of the picture, Henry, Tom and I got to work. My birthday party was tomorrow night. We had to come up with some sort of plan, and keep our eyes out for Joshua … John … in the meantime. Or any other crazy he might send my way.

  It was him in the cornfield, though, I knew that now. I felt sick I’d ever accused Rowan of trying to kill me.

  Another curveball was Stella.

  We didn’t know the extent of her involvement, but it wasn’t a coincidence that she’d been with John before being “forced” to move to Jericho. The possibilities were tearing me up inside. My whole world was crumbling around me. My best friend wasn’t who she said she was. Had she known all along her boyfriend was trying to kill me? Did she know he was three hundred years old?

  Did she know how many other girls he’d killed?

  I racked my brain trying to remember more about the morning I’d ended up in the lake, too, but nothing came to me. John was in the hospital fighting for his life, we knew that much. He’d become mortal when I’d told Scott I loved him. Stella had been at the hospital with him and her parents—unless her parents never came because they’re not even actually her parents.

  Ugh! There were far too many unanswered questions.

  How could she possibly be involved? She was just Stella.

  While Tom was running background checks on her family, Henry and I were trying to devise a plan that would lure Stella away from John and allow Scott to deal with him, but given Scott’s state of mind, I wasn’t sure he was up to the task. Luring Stella away was going to be dangerous, too, regardless of whether or not she knew what was going on. She loved him, which made her unpredictable, and I couldn’t deal with her alone. I’d need help. Henry was in no condition to get involved, and dealing with John would require both Tom and Scott on board.

  There was only one other person I knew I could trust. I just hoped he could forgive me for the way I’d treated him.

  I wandered down to the shed to look for Scott and found him sitting on the floor in the back room in the dark, his elbows on his knees. He didn’t look up when I came in. I hadn’t seen him this wrecked since the night he’d dug up my grave. At least then, he’d shown some emotion. His elbows fell from his knees as I knocked them apart with mine and slid down to sit on him.

  He looked away to the side.

  I pulled his face back. “You are not your brother.”

  He tried to turn away again, but I held his cheeks tight.

  “You couldn’t have known. Not even I knew, and I’ve seen him in past lives.”

  “I couldn’t protect you from my own flesh and blood,” he whispered.

  I held his head as my eyes bored into his. “That’s all he is. Flesh and blood. He never belonged with the Parkers, Scott. He was never supposed to be here.”

  “The story he concocted about your death back then, April. None of us doubted a word.”

  “Please don’t do this to yourself,” I begged.

  “And the brutality.”

  “Scott.”

  “All those girls—”

  “Stop.”

  “I was a fool,” he choked, tears spilling over.

  “Please, Scott,” I cried.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  I cradled his head against my chest as he gripped my waist. “No, I was the fool. How could I not see him when he was standing—limping—right in front of me for months? And the slurred speech? His recovery has been miraculous because there hasn’t been a go
ddamn thing wrong with him since the moment I died in the lake! He’s been faking it this whole time. I felt sorry for him! God, I’m so stupid!”

  “Hey,” Scott cautioned, pulling back. “Don’t you dare say that. Ever.”

  I shook my head.

  “He thought he was smart, April. He used his accident as the perfect disguise to enter your life and get closer to you. But you figured it out.” He placed his hands on my cheeks. “His game is over, thanks to you.”

  Scott leaned in and gently kissed me.

  “And you.” I brushed his tears away. “Tom told me all the things you discovered over there. I can’t believe we’ve come this far.”

  He nodded, then rubbed his face and regained his composure. “Now we just have to finish this.”

  I exhaled slowly. “Does this mean you’re ready to come back inside? We really need your help coming up with a plan.”

  Scott tucked my hair behind my ears, then kissed me again. “I’m ready.”

  I stood and helped him up, and he weaved his fingers between mine as we walked back up to the house.

  *****

  The next morning I woke to soft kisses traveling the length of my spine. I took a deep breath and rolled to face him, but neither of us spoke. It’d had been a long night of reading and hypothesizing, and despite his invulnerability, I wasn’t sure which of the two of us felt more drained. This was all happening too fast now. I needed more time. It felt like I’d only just found Scott again. I’d only just discovered who I really was, and what I was capable of.

  I’d only just found myslef.

  Scott brushed my cheek with his thumb. Slowly. Tenderly. He traced my lips with his fingertips, his eyes drinking me in. Sadness welled up, but I fought the tears. I wouldn’t think of this as our last day together, because we were going to beat this. We were going to beat John.

  Even so, I couldn’t help but study every detail of Scott’s face one more time. The hints of green in his blue eyes. The occasional freckle across his forehead. His clean-shaven cheeks, considering I’d clinically died not long after he’d last shaved. I loved the way the roots of his hair were blonder than the tips, and the way it sometimes stood on end when he ran his hand through it.