“So the police were on to him.”
“I don’t think anyone thought he was the Bloodlust Killer, but the call from the police freaked him out.”
“He wanted to burn the place to get rid of all the evidence.” I concluded.
Zoey nodded. “And all the bodies. The night of the fire, someone saw him carrying something large and wrapped up into the school. School was out for the day and it was dark, so the witness called the police.”
“And they got there just in time to save you,” I said, hugging her close and kissing the top of her head. “Thank God.”
“I think what he was carrying in that night was a body he wanted everyone to assume was his. The media coverage and public outcry that a serial killer was using a school as his den was so out of control the police released a statement saying it was his body in the fire. That he was dead.”
“They wanted to calm everyone down.”
“And they wanted to believe a monster like that was dead.”
“But he wasn’t.” I shook my head.
“No. And now he’s back. Wanting to finish what he started.”
“Like filming a sequel all over again.” I pondered out loud.
Zoey pulled back, looking at me with wide eyes. “What did you say?”
“Deborah lived in the first Moth to a Flame movie... Maybe he thought she shouldn’t have. And then he sees you in the media, figures out you didn’t die the first time either...” The look on her face made my heart constrict. “It’s okay. I was just talking out loud. I’m an actor. My brain automatically goes to movies and sequels.”
When I tried to pull her back into me, she resisted.
Her finger stabbed in the direction of the TV. “Where was this movie filmed?”
I frowned. “Here in L.A. Actually, it’s on the lot next to the set we’re working on now.” Annoyance flashed over me when I remembered. “They actually never tore it down. After what happened there, no one wanted to be around it. They just sectioned off the house it was filmed in and forgot it. The execs trying to convince me to be part of movie about my grandmother are hinting around at using the set for the production.”
She lurched off my lap so fast she would have fallen if I hadn’t caught her. Standing up with her this time, I kept a steadying hand on her to ask, “What’s wrong?”
Spinning toward the TV, still wobbly on her legs, she said, “That’s where he is. That’s where he took Callie.”
“He couldn’t have. It’s all gated off, and there’s security.”
“But you just said that house was abandoned.”
“It is, but the large lot it’s located on is not. Movies still film there.”
“But not close to that house.” She led.
I frowned. “You really think he could be there?”
“If a gaggle of nosy reporters can get onto our lot to harass me, then one man who’s eluded the police since the eighties can get into that house.”
Grabbing my phone, I started to dial. “I’ll call the cops.”
Zoey took off, rushing in the direction of the garage. “I need to borrow your car.”
Ripping the phone from my ear, I ran after her. “Zoey!”
“I’m going!”
“The hell you are!” I roared, catching up to her, yanking her around.
She stumbled into my chest but bounced right back up, fire in her eyes. “I am. You can’t stop me.”
“I’m not letting you anywhere near that psycho,” I growled.
Yanking her body from mine, she said, “You don’t have a choice.”
Fleeing into the garage, she snatched the keys for my Viper off the wall.
“Zoey, stop!” I yelled. “You can’t drive like this.”
Her chest was heaving when she spun, her hair flying around her like a cape. “Then you drive.”
I thought about Callie. About the fact that I was closer to the lot than the police. I had the clearance to get through security...
Tearing my eyes off her, I finished dialing the detective who’d just left us not even an hour before. The second he answered, I started to talk. “We think he could be at the old Moth to a Flame set,” I told him. Rattling off the address, I asked him to meet us there.
“You can’t go there, Preston,” the man asserted. “Under no circumstances are you allowed to visit the potential scene of the crime.”
I looked back up at Zoey, who made an impatient sound and went around to the driver’s side of the red sports car.
“Then you’d better get there first,” I said and cut off the call.
The engine purred to life as I stalked around, wrenching open the door to lean in and shut it off.
“Nick!” Zoey yelled, reaching to start it up again.
Grabbing her wrist, I yanked her out of the car.
“Stop!” she screamed, hysteria in her voice. “I have to do this! I can’t let Callie die because of me!”
Her fist hammered into my chest, pushing me back. My hand tightened around her wrist, trying to pull her close.
“Let go!”
“Stop!” I said, trying not to hurt her as she hit me again. “Zoey!” I roared, the sound of my anger breaking through her panic.
Her body stilled, and she looked up.
“There’s too much traffic for the Viper. Let’s take my bike.”
Confusion clouded her eyes. “What?”
Towing her along with me, I went to the corner of the garage where I kept the motorcycle I wasn’t supposed to have covered in the corner.
Ripping off the cover, I picked up a helmet and handed it to her before reaching for another.
The keys were already in the ignition, so I straddled the machine and started her up. The motor purred to life with ease. Just because I wasn’t contractually allowed to drive it didn’t mean I didn’t make sure it was drivable.
With the helmet strapped on her head, all I could see was her tearstained eyes through the shield, watching me.
When I thumbed at the seat behind me, her head bobbed and she climbed on. Her arms felt like small vises sliding around my waist, and their fragility made a fierce wave of doubt crash over me.
I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t just drive her into a potential disaster.
One of my hands left the handle bar, covering hers at my waist.
Her fingers gave mine a squeeze, and she leaned up next to my helmet. “Callie needs us!”
Fuck.
Taking my hand, she lifted it back to the handle, hers returning to my waist.
The crotch rocket glided out of the garage, down the driveway, and weaved through the press who were still camped out before I punched the engine and drove through the heavy L.A. traffic without any interruption at all.
The second Nick showed his face in the helmet, the guards waved him onto the lot without a passing glance.
I felt dizzy from the speed at which we traveled to get here, and my legs were numb from the vibration of the engine.
Nick drove through the lot, past the active sets and current productions, until everything became more desolate and we reached a section where it seemed mainly equipment and large props were stored.
Going beyond that, my skin started to crawl and goose bumps rose along my arms and legs with an eerie feeling of déjà vu. If I’d been hoping this was where Callie was before, I was now certain.
The very air that blew around us, squeezing inside the helmet I wore, filled my senses with the same kind of fear and dread I’d lived in when I was chained up like an animal waiting for slaughter.
This kind of air was hard to breathe. It filled your lungs and clogged them, not refreshing your body, but instead weighing it down.
The motorcycle downshifted, and though our speed slowed, my arms around Nick tightened. As he drove, I glanced over my shoulder, hoping to see flashing blue and red lights, instead seeing nothing but a cloud of dust drifting in our wake.
We’d made it here very fast, much faster than the police
would be able to arrive.
Our bodies tilted when Nick took a turn, angling the bike into a paved lot filled with cracks and weeds. The building beside it was in no better shape, certainly empty.
When he shut off the bike and tugged off the helmet, I flipped up the face shield. “This isn’t the house.”
“Driving up to the front door isn’t the best plan.”
He was right. My thinking was becoming muddied with fear and urgency. Fumbling around with the strap, I tried to get the helmet off.
Brushing my fingers away, Nick undid the clasp and pulled it off on the first try. Wind blew through my hair, and I squinted against the sun.
Gentle fingers brushed my bangs down into place, and worried, green eyes caressed my face. “We can wait right here for the police.”
“I can’t,” I said, even though I wanted to do just that. “That monster took so much from me. He’s been terrorizing me, toying with me, and he’s torturing Callie right now. I can’t leave this up to the police this time. This has to end.”
His voice was hesitant and quiet. “What do you want to do?”
“Find Callie,” I said, climbing off the bike and starting off on unsteady legs.
Nick caught my hand. “He’s probably expecting you.” Shifting closer, he ordered, “Stay here. I’ll go see if she’s there.”
He probably was expecting me, which was why I had to be the one to go. He wouldn’t give Callie up to Nick... but me? I could trade myself for her.
“I’m going,” was all I said.
His fingers laced through mine. “Then I’m coming too.”
“Which way is the house?” I asked.
He pointed, and we started off, walking through an abandoned section of land that felt haunted the farther in we got.
When the house loomed into view, my footsteps faltered and panic constricted my chest. Clutching my shirt, I breathed shallowly, trying to get control of the emotions taking over.
“Angel,” Nick said, sliding around in front of me, blocking the house from sight. “Eyes on me,” he urged, tipping up my chin.
I was still breathing erratically and the center of my torso burned, but his face was beautiful and looking at his emerald eyes did offer some relief. “I’m good,” I said, shaking him off and starting forward.
An air of loneliness clouded around the home. The weeds crowding the wraparound porch and front steps did nothing to help. One of the shutters was missing on the second story, a few shingles had long since been blown away, and the front door handle was rusting.
Nick tugged my hand, and we started around the back, my foot crunching over brittle glass buried deep beneath overgrown grass. Looking up, I saw a large half-circle window with jagged pieces of dirty glass lining the edges. The boarded windowpane was long gone, and a tattered, dirty curtain flapped behind it.
Staring back down underfoot, I realized this was the place the killer likely fell. This was the place his life should have ended twenty years ago, but instead, he’d managed to get up and run away.
Not too far from the backyard was a line of trees, and I imagined him slipping into the coverage and then somehow escaping so he could come back many years later and kidnap me.
So many lives would have been saved if he’d died that day, if the police had managed to catch him.
Instead, here I was. Creeping around this abandoned, creepy house that no one ever lived in but where someone had been brutally murdered.
Putting his finger against his lips, Nick urged me to be silent, and we tiptoed the rest of the way alongside of the house in case there was more broken glass we couldn’t see.
At the corner, he pushed me against the wall, covering my body with his and then peering around to the back. Seconds later, his face was inches from mine, and the smell of his skin brought back a wave of what we’d done last night.
I love you, my heart whispered.
Pointing, I followed his finger to the tree line where a van of some kind was parked.
Adrenaline spiked in my body, making thought almost impossible and the urge to act imperative. He’s here.
Sensing what I was about to do, Nick pinned me against the house, covering my mouth with his palm. Putting his lips beside my ear, he said, “Now that we know he’s here, we’ll wait for the cops.”
My eyes widened, and I started to shake my head.
The body pinning mine went taut, threatening to use the strength I didn’t have against me.
Moaning low in the back of my throat, I let my body slump sideways. Grabbing at the back of my thigh, I massaged the area as I started sliding down the side of the house.
“Ah, angel,” he swore low, pulling back so he could lean down and pick me up.
Regaining my center of gravity, I thrust up, catching him by surprise and shoving with all the strength I could muster.
Shock flared in his eyes as he stumbled back, and a sick sense of guilt came like a kick in the gut. But I kept going, rushing from between him and the house and breaking toward the back door.
He cursed low, but I didn’t look back. Instead, I rushed up the back stairs, which creaked in warning with every step I took.
Ignoring the alarm bells, the fear, and the stark warning from the house itself, I ripped open the back door, not even flinching when it fell off two of its hinges.
There was no use in being quiet right now. I wanted him to know I was coming.
I wanted him to know I was here.
“I got your note!” Her voice echoed from the first floor, making my heart flutter like a pair of wings.
“They all told me I didn’t have to hide. I didn’t have to change my name or the way I looked... They all tried to convince me that you were dead!” she yelled. Her heavy footfalls on the hollow floor below told me exactly where she was.
She was coming.
Soon, she would be close enough to touch.
Close enough to kill.
“I knew better. I knew you were out there somewhere!”
So much like the original flame. So much spunk. So much fight in her.
“Help!” the stand-in yelled from inside the bedroom. “Is anyone there? Help me!”
“Callie!”
“Zoey! Up here! Help!”
Footsteps pounded on the stairs. The rotting wood moaned and creaked, the perfect soundtrack for a horror film.
I slid back into the shadows, listening to my little stand-in say her lines on cue.
“Zoey,” she wailed, fear and panic perfectly balanced in her cry. “Please help me!”
She was the perfect bait. The perfect ignitor for the flame I’d been waiting for.
“Zoey!” I roared, running into the house as she put her foot on the first stair leading to the second floor.
She paused, glancing up, apology flashing in her eyes. But then she turned back and started up, the sound of the weak wood draining about ten years off my life.
She was almost to the top when I caught up to her. Slipping an arm around her waist, I lifted her, carrying her the rest of the way.
“Nick!” Callie screamed from the down the hall.
Zoey started running even though her feet weren’t even on the floor. Hitting at my arm still around her waist, she tried to make me put her down.
“We stay together,” I ordered, knowing I couldn’t stop her but absolutely refusing to let her do this alone.
I heard her start to speak, but my ears stopped working when something heavy and hard rammed into the back of my head. Unfocused and with pain radiating through me, I pushed Zoey away, knowing she probably cried out, but not being able to find the sound of her voice.
I fell hard onto the floor, the boards rattling under my body as though I’d caused an earthquake. Rolling onto my side, I reached up, covering the back of my head, feeling the slickness of blood.
Hands grabbed my face, and the image of an angel loomed over, her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders. I started to smile, but piercing pain reminded me of the situat
ion, and alarm overruled everything else.
I have to protect this angel. I have to, above everything else, keep her safe.
Her lips were moving, calling out my name. Tears streaked her very pale face, and worry filled her eyes.
I reached for her hand, missing it the first time but able to grab it the second. “I’m okay,” I told her. “Hit my head.”
How the fuck did I hit my head? I’d been standing at the top of the stairs.
A shadow moved behind Zoey, looming into view. The inside-out mask he wore appeared to be nothing but smooth, shiny skin. No lips. No nose. No hair. Just a faceless head with vacant eyes.
Zoey was so focused on me she didn’t even see him. She didn’t even feel his evil presence.
Our eyes connected. The glint of a large knife mirrored his heinous image, making it look like there were two of him.
“Run,” I said, grabbing at Zoey, trying to push her away. “Run!”
He brought the knife up, his lipless mouth pulling into a twisted smile. His arm slashed down, and I forced back the nausea and dizziness assaulting me to pull Zoey down as I rolled over her.
Searing pain shot through me like lightning, igniting all my senses and making them scream. The blade slid into my skin like butter, going right through me to lodge into the wood on the floor.
“No!” Zoey screamed. “No!”
He ripped the knife up, the sound of my flesh tearing loud in my ears. Zoey tried to push me off, she tried to slip from under me, but even injured, I wouldn’t let her go.
I would take a hundred stabs of that knife before I gave up shielding her.
Adrenaline and sheer will to keep her safe gave me the strength to push up off the floor, hauling her with me. I stumbled but stayed upright and spun, holding her behind me with my uninjured side.
The man lunged at me again. I threw out a roundhouse kick, knocking the knife out of his hand and into a room off the hallway.
He went after it, and we ran toward the sounds of Callie’s pleas.
Closing the bedroom door behind us, I turned the lock, knowing it would only buy us a few seconds but using all the time we could.
Moth to a Flame Page 30