Moth to a Flame

by Cambria Hebert

  Zoey grabbed my arm, sobs falling mercilessly from her lips. “He stabbed you!” she wailed. “Oh my God, you’re bleeding.”

  “It’s a flesh wound.” I tried to reassure her, feeling the blood flowing like a river down my arm. “C’mon, we gotta move.”

  “Nick!” Callie yelled, drawing our attention.

  My assistant was across the room in the corner, her hunched form lit up by the long white nightgown covering her body.

  Rushing to a window, I pulled back the blackout curtains, allowing sunlight to filter into the room.

  Zoey whimpered, and everything in me went on high alert. When I turned back, I saw her standing in the center of a few cocoons swaying from the ceiling.

  Behind us, there was a knock on the bedroom door.

  Callie started to cry.

  Rushing forward, I put an arm around my girl, covering her eyes. “Don’t look at them,” I instructed, dragging her toward Callie.

  “I’m chained up!” Callie wailed, lifting the god-awful gown and showing us a metal shackle.

  Zoey went limp against me, staring down at the cuff around Callie’s leg.

  “I can’t get free.”

  The door burst in. The sound of wood splintering made us all look around. The Moth walked in, dressed exactly the way he’d dressed the night he killed my grandmother.

  Sudden uncontrollable rage rose inside me. Despite the stab wound, the head wound, and the fact we were cornered, unadulterated anger took over.

  “You son of a bitch!” I roared and lunged.

  He swiped with the knife already coated in my blood, and I evaded. Throwing out another kick, I hit him dead center in his chest, which made him stumble backward. Not letting him recover, I lunged forward, delivering a swift punch to the side of the head, which made him hit the floor.

  Blood dripped down the back of my neck, streaking my skin and curling around my forearm like ribbons. Using the bloodied hand, I grabbed a handful of his hoodie, hauling half his body up off the floor.

  Sudden pain made me drop him and stumble back.

  Zoey screamed, and I looked down, noting a smaller blade sticking out of the side of my leg.

  Grabbing the knife, I pulled it out and plunged it into his thigh. He yelled, the first sound I’d heard him make, and fuck yeah, it was a satisfying noise.

  Standing, I put the heel of my foot on the handle and pushed it deeper, making him writhe on the floor. “Where’re the keys?” I asked, motioning toward Callie.

  Zoey flung her arms around me from behind, towing me away from him. Dizzy and unfocused, I turned, grabbing her by the face and surveying her blurred features. “You okay, angel?”

  “Stop getting stabbed.”

  I started to smile, but she screamed and shoved me aside. I fell, and she stepped forward right into the fist of The Moth.

  Her body hit the floor, and I roared. Lunging after him, I tackled the man, burying my fist into his gut. One of his hands went for the knife wound in my leg, and the other reached around my arm and poked at the jagged hole.

  I yelled, and he rolled, pinning me beneath him, raising the knife over my chest.

  “No!” Zoey screamed. “No, please, no!”

  Still holding the knife over me, the faceless man tilted his head.

  “Take me! Take me instead,” she wailed.

  “No!” I said, struggling to get up. He punched me in the arm wound again, making me recoil.

  “If you kill him right now, I’ll run. Our sequel will never be finished. It’s him or me, okay? You can’t have us both. If you let them go, I swear I’ll stay. You can do whatever you want to me.”

  “Zoey! No!” I bellowed, throwing a punch. It connected with The Moth, and he fell off me.

  I went for Zoey, but she moved away, running over to that animal’s side. “Please,” she begged. “Please let them go.”

  He reached into the pocket of his hoodie and held out a key.

  A desperate sound ripped out of her, and she threw the key to me. “Unchain her!”

  I hesitated for a second, but Callie started crying again, so I rushed to get her free. Once my assistant was standing on her own, I ran toward Zoey.

  The Moth grabbed her, holding the knife at her throat.

  My footsteps faltered. Holding my hands out, palms up, I said, “Just let her go. Come at me.”

  “No!” she insisted. “Get out of here, Nick. Go!”

  “I’m not leaving you here.”

  Zoey cried out when the blade pricked her neck and a rivulet of red oozed down.

  I moved forward, but the blade pressed harder.

  “Stop!” I exclaimed. “I won’t come closer. Just... stop.”

  “Take her and get out,” The Moth said, his voice sounding scarily normal compared to the way he looked and behaved. “Take her and get out right now, or I’ll slice her head off in front of you.”

  “Go,” Zoey pleaded.

  I shook my head.

  She winced when the knife pricked her again.

  Pain unlike anything I’d ever experienced before gripped my heart. “I’m going!” I declared. “We’re going.”

  Grabbing Callie and shielding her with my body, we moved toward the door as I kept my eyes on Zoey and that knife the entire way. “Go!” I told my assistant, pushing her into the hallway. “Go!”

  “You too!” The Moth yelled, sounding a little less stable than before.

  “You killed my grandmother,” I said, pointing out into the hallway. “Right over there. Deborah Ascott. And now here I am, her flesh and blood... Forget the sequel with her.” I gestured to Zoey. “Finish what you started with my family.”

  Instead of cutting her a third time, the fucker squeezed her neck, making blood gush from the cut and a choking sound gargle from her lips.

  “Stop!” I begged, my voice breaking. Seeing her blood was my kryptonite. If I walked out of here, if I let him think I was really leaving, he would let her go. I would buy her a few minutes. “I’m going,” I announced.

  Zoey’s eyes collided with mine.

  “I love you,” I told her, the words like sandpaper ripping across an uneven board.

  She nodded.

  Walking out of that room was the hardest thing I’d ever done.

  Callie was at the top of the stairs, shivering and crying in that fucking sick gown.

  The entire way down the stairs, I fought the urge to run back up. The entire way downstairs, I prayed to God I wouldn’t live to regret this moment.

  There was no noise at all from upstairs as I led Callie out the front door.

  No sound of death.

  No sound of life.

  Just nothing.

  And then there were two.

  A moth and his flame.

  A killer and a woman who refused to be his victim for a single second longer.

  He shoved me away the moment the front door shut with a definitive sound. My knees hit the floor, and pain radiated up my left thigh.

  It didn’t matter, though. I could deal with a little pain. With the stinging cuts from his blade against my flesh. Nick and Callie were safe. Gone from this house. And even if I died five minutes from now, at least I would die alone.

  I didn’t plan to die, though.

  Not today. Not by his hand.

  “The police are on their way,” I told him. “I called them before I even arrived.”

  Carrying the knife stained with my and Nick’s blood, he picked up a folded white square of fabric.

  I didn’t flinch away when he came close and extended the gown.

  I took it.

  He left through the busted in door, leaving me alone with the cocoons hanging from the ceiling.

  Heart hammering, neck stinging, I ran to the window to look out, hoping for a glimpse of Nick or the sound of police sirens in the distance.

  All I heard was silence.

  I knew Nick wasn’t going to leave me here. As much as I wanted him to, that man was just not built that
way. I only had a limited amount of time before he came back, before he was in danger once more.

  I pulled on the gown over my clothes, letting it fall all the way down until it brushed the floor. A strong sense of panic and the past washed over me, momentarily rendering me paralyzed.

  I couldn’t stop. If I stopped to think about this, about him, I might never start moving again.

  The gown swished around my shoes as I went around the room, looking for some kind of weapon, finding nothing except a length of chain.

  Wrapping it around my hand, I made a fist, figuring it was better than nothing.

  My heart was erratic, my breathing labored, and every step I took made me feel like I might collapse. I kept going anyway.

  I thought of all the years I’d hidden. All the nightmares I’d suffered through. I thought about Nick... about how he made me want to live again. About how strong he made me realize I really was.

  One foot after another. One step and then another.

  I paused only briefly at the bedroom door before stepping through splintered, busted wood into the hallway.

  She couldn’t run anymore.

  Too many people had died. He would keep coming to her, just as he promised. Like a moth drawn to a flame—until the moth was burned up or the flame went out.

  Out in the hallway, the creaking of the stairs proved she was right.

  Lifting my chin, I looked into the shadows for him, but he wasn’t there. Sunlight did filter in through the broken window at the end of the hall. Ripped, dirty drapes flapped like tattered ghosts in a haunted house. Even though there was sun, there were even more shadows. Everything was draped in a filter of death and gore.

  Playing my part, I started toward the window.

  A noise from somewhere in the house made her pause. She tilted her head, listening. Heavy footfalls coming up the stairs whisked her back toward the window, to the sheer white curtains draping the panes.

  He was taking his time. He knew she would wait.

  There was no escaping him. If she ran tonight, he’d come back tomorrow.

  She was tired of running. Exhausted from being chased.

  Someone would die tonight, whether it was him or her.

  I couldn’t hide behind the curtains. They were too battered for that, and there was too much light for me to be concealed. I did back up against them, though, watching as the shiny-masked man topped the stairs.

  We stared at each other, the knife at his side still bathed in blood.

  In the distance, sirens finally cut through the day, telling me to hold on just a little bit longer.

  His eyes flared, and I smiled.

  When he lunged toward me, I punched out with my chain-wrapped fist, but he shoved it away and grabbed my neck. He lifted me off my feet like I weighed nothing at all, like my body was floating off the floor.

  Flashbacks of the movie I’d just watched assailed me, making me wonder if this was real or a dream.

  “Zoey!” Nick’s yell floated up the stairs, firmly planting me in reality.

  I kicked out, burying the toe of my shoe into his balls. Grunting, his grip slackened, and I fell out of his hold. Before I could get up, he swung the knife down, and I lunged to the side, just barely avoiding a stab.

  Nick appeared at the top of the steps, eyes wild and drenched in blood. All I could think about was his safety, about how I would rather die than lose him.

  Grabbing The Moth by the back of the neck, Nick pulled him around, burying a fist in his middle. The grip he had on the knife loosened, and I reached up, ripping it from his grasp.

  The Moth turned around, coming for me, but I slammed the knife down into his bloodstained hiking boot, the blade breaking bone as I forced it down.

  He howled in pain, grappling for me, but his foot was now pinned to the floor.

  “Thank God, Zoey!” Nick called, reaching around to tow me up, eyes roaming every inch of me.

  Over his shoulder, I saw The Moth lunge. Screaming, I shoved Nick out of the way and barreled forward. My body slammed into his, and he fell backward, grappling for the only support he could find... the old, brittle curtain.

  The rod it hung on ripped from the wall, and he rocked back, arms flailing. I reached out and shoved him again, the force breaking the knife off in his foot and sending him flailing out the broken window.

  What was left of the glass shattered as he fell. Right before he disappeared, his hand clamped around my wrist, and my body started to go with him.

  He began to laugh. A chilling, bone-numbing sound.

  Closing my eyes, I felt weightless as I started to fall.

  I guessed it wasn’t him or me that would die tonight... Instead, it would be both.

  Her body tipped out the window. That fucking madman tried to drag her down to hell with him.

  Angels didn’t belong in hell. Zoey belonged with me.

  “I got you.” I wrapped my arms around her from behind, anchoring her before she fell out the window completely.

  “Don’t let go,” she pleaded, a definite strain in her voice.

  “Never.” I swore.

  The sicko still clinging to her arm swung his body, trying to dislodge the hold I had on her. Zoey winced when jagged glass cut into her middle, but she didn’t cry out.

  My teeth gnashed together with the force of my grit when I stretched out the arm with the stab wound. My hands and forearms were slick with blood, making me fear the grip I had on Zoey would be lost. Ignoring the throbbing pain and dizziness trying to disorient me, I leaned down, pressing my chest firmly against her back.

  Seeing that I now had an even better hold, The Moth began flailing erratically and frankly pissing me the fuck off.

  A distressed sound ripped from her throat when The Moth slapped his other hand around her wrist. Now he hung off her, pulling her down with both hands.

  He didn’t look at her, though. Instead, he looked at me.

  Daring me. Challenging me.

  If I pulled her the rest of the way in, then he would come too. If I saved my girl, then I would be saving him.

  As if I cared.

  There was no choice here.

  Both bodies heaved upward as I towed her into the house.

  “No!” she wailed. “Wait!”

  I stopped because I was worried the uneven glass pierced her again. “Are you hurt?”

  “Nick might be willing to save you.” Zoey spoke, her voice dark and pitched downward. “But I sure as hell won’t.”

  “Zoey, no!” I yelled, afraid of what she was going to do. Sticking it to that psycho wasn’t as important as her safety.

  Her voice directed at me was so much gentler than the one she’d used to taunt the killer. “Trust me.”

  Trust was an easy thing to give until you were in a situation where it could literally mean life or death. It didn’t matter. Zoey had my trust. All of it. Even in a situation as dire as this.

  “I do trust you, angel.”

  Swiping her free hand over my slick arm, she reached down to where the maniac gripped her. Using the blood coating her fingers like a lubricant, she pried his hand off her wrist. All three of us jolted toward the ground when his grip loosened, but I held strong.

  The Moth made a strangled sound, the first inkling of fear I’d ever noticed from his pompous, murderous ass.

  Zoey wrenched his remaining hand off her, and when he was dangling over the ground, basically at her mercy, she spoke with strength ringing in her voice. “Victims survive and killers do die.”

  She let go.

  He plummeted toward the ground, and I pulled her to safety.

  “Nick.” She gasped, both of us falling back into the hall.

  I hit the wall, pain radiating from my leg to my skull, but I didn’t let go of her. I made sure I took the brunt of the collision.

  She yelled my name again, hands grabbing my face and pulling it down. “Stop taking hits for me!”

  I scoffed. “Never.”

  Her face cru
mpled, and a floodgate of fear and grief opened wide. Wrapping my arms around her, I held her while she sobbed and shook.

  Police stormed the house, and relief poured over me.

  “Hey,” I murmured as the officers’ shouts reached us from all directions. “Hey.” I tried again, peeling her off my chest so I could see her face. “How bad are you hurt?”

  She shook her head and tried to burrow into me once more.

  “Let me see your neck.” I started tilting her head up, but she pushed my hand away.

  “You were stabbed twice.” She fumed, but the anger seemed diluted because of the tears still streaking her cheeks. “And your head!”

  “Good thing you were here to shove him out a window.”

  Her eyes grew about three sizes, and she nearly pitched sideways while shoving to her feet.

  “Easy.” I warned, grabbing ahold of her and using the wall as leverage for us both.

  A strangled sound floated behind her when she rushed over to the window to peer out. Her whole body stiffened, and I went to her instantly. She spun into me, burying her face in my chest.

  Rubbing her back, I looked below and felt satisfaction soothe some of the injuries paining me.

  He was still down there. Broken and twisted.

  Dead.

  “It’s okay now, angel,” I murmured. “He can’t hurt you anymore.”

  “I killed him.”

  “You saved yourself.” I corrected.

  That got her to lift her head. “I did?”

  I nodded. “And me too.”

  That earned me a small smile.

  Tenderness swelled up inside me. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, I glanced down at the nightgown swallowing her whole. Everything that piece of fabric represented made my skin crawl.

  The sentiment must have shown on my face because Zoey glanced down. Horror changed her features, and panic flared in her eyes.

  Suddenly, she seemed short of breath as she ripped at the high neck and billowing fabric. “Get it off me!” she shrieked. “Get it off!”

  Her hands were rough but too shaky to be useful. The panic seizing her didn’t allow her to stop and think. All she could do was frantically tug at the gown.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I noted the officers who were coming up the stairs paused, warily assessing the situation.