He pulled the scissors from his back pocket and shifted them from one of his neatly manicured hands to the other. My life was a game to him. My shoulder ached from having landed on an exposed root. The expression of victory glowed on his face. He was dragging out my death on purpose, savoring each moment. Fine by me. Every minute he extended my life was another moment I’d try to live. Adrenaline heated my torso. My fingers and toes were numb, but my heart was pumping hard, sending much-needed blood and oxygen to my appendages, clearing my thoughts.
Miles had a protocol to adhere to. He took his victims’ identities. He’d already taken my clothes. Now, he’d finish my hair.
“You’re all the same,” he barked. “You’re all in a hurry. You don’t want to change. You won’t listen. All across the country, girls like you are ruining marriages, killing mothers. It’s up to me to stop you.” He stopped to wipe some spittle from his chin.
I moaned and rubbed my head, luring him into reach. Nicholas’s commanding voice exploded in my head. All the lessons he’d taught me by the river flooded back. Stern and determined, his voice said, “Run.”
The Reaper leaned forward and placed his fingers into the thick of my bangs. I jerked my head upward with all I had in me. His face crunched again as my head connected with it. His hand loosened by a degree. He stumbled backward and dragged me with him. “Fucking bitch!”
I wrapped my frozen fingers around a large branch lying beside me and stabbed it into the air behind me. The branch connected briefly with his flesh. I turned to see. I’d caught him in his neck. His grip loosened again. Hate and fear flung my body upward. Away from the man. Into the forest. Leaving a large portion of my hair behind. I knew his plans. I’d read the files. He wouldn’t be my first. I wouldn’t be his next.
Barefoot, naked, and almost blind from pain, I ran. My feet slipped and ached as they pounded the icy ground. Branches cracked and snapped as I leapt and landed again and again through the woods. My heart clenched with fear. My body was at home, trained to run. Muscle memory. I barely needed to think. The cold forest floor didn’t compare to my treadmill, but it mattered little, considering the circumstances.
I ran confidently for several minutes before it all went south. There was no way a man twice my age would’ve caught me if I’d been wearing shoes. Cresting the top of the hill, away from the cabin, my left foot landed on a sharp stick and I collapsed. The branch jammed deeply into my sole. I screamed and fell. Blood oozed around it. I knew enough not to remove the stick. The blood would rush out. I’d die. I couldn’t run, or walk, with the branch wedged into my skin. A main artery ran through the arch of the foot. Severing it meant death. Trickles of blood ran out from around the branch, coating my skin in a sticky burn.
The space I’d put between us would be lost if I didn’t move. My name echoed through the trees in his creepy voice. My eyes darted frantically for a wide tree or thicket of brush within crawling distance. I had nowhere to hide, and he was pissed. Pain seized my body. He cursed and swore as he approached, taking his time. The monster stood over me like a hunter over prey. Then he yanked the stick from my foot and tossed it into the woods.
“Gah!” Instinctively I folded into myself and applied pressure to the wound. Blood soaked my hands. Tears fell freely into the snow. I didn’t want to die at his hands, not like my mother.
Not like this, my heart screamed. Not like this. Please.
“You useless little whore!” he roared, interrupting any feeble measure of hope. A huge cold hand slammed into my cheek. My head flung sideways into the snow. “You’re supposed to be in the cabin! Steven’s supposed to watch you die. You two keep ruining my plans!” He enunciated every syllable. Spittle flew from his lips and hit my burning cheeks. “I know all about his security cameras. Why do you think I brought you here? When I’m finished, I’ll tell him to watch his footage. I’ll be long gone by then, but so will you, Stella.”
He knelt next to me with the scissors and began to chop at my already too-short hair. My loss of blood was tremendous, especially the way my heart pumped from the run. I slumped over, forehead to the ground, trying to think. I’d had no idea about the cameras. Of course, it seemed reasonable now. My tummy flopped and my face burned. If I passed out, I was dead. My ears rang. A sick burn crept over me. Nausea. Terror. Loss. Black spots floated in my vision. I bawled into the freezing dirt. A thrumming began in the sky.
The Reaper’s voice drawled on. I couldn’t hold the words in my head. Concentration became harder. Like falling asleep and waking only to realize I was still asleep. I slipped to and from my dream, adding confusion to the pain and panic. His voice added a new dimension to the nightmare. My memory. He was in the alley. My mother cried in his arms. My father was sprawled on the ground near me. He spoke to me.
The voices mingled together. Dream and reality. Miles whispered against my ear, all the demented thoughts of a man like him. My father’s voice whispered in my mind more simply, “Run, Elle, please. For Daddy, Elle, run, please … ” On another level altogether, I knew I could. A final push of fury and determination coursed through my system, and I was lucid.
The steady beating in the air above me was a beacon to my soul.
The next time the Reaper raised his scissors to cut the hair from my head, I rallied. Pulling every ounce of adrenaline and hate and rage, thinking only of what he’d done to my mother, stealing her from us, killing her, I attacked. I locked my fingers together the way Nicholas had taught me. When the Reaper rolled me onto my back to chop another chunk of my hair, I swung with everything I had. Like serving a volleyball. My suddenly powerful arms landed squarely against his scissors.
The scissors and his arms flew backwards away from me. Shock shown on his face. He thought he’d won. He thought I’d given up. To everyone not present in my mind, I was all but dead. The scissors twisted in his wrist. He didn’t know me. I was not a victim. They barreled toward him as he moved toward me. No time to change their course. His head turned in confusion. The moment was done. Two metal points lodged deep into his face. Sharp ringing filled the air around me. Blood flowed out of his eyes in deep crimson rivers onto snow-white leaves. Echoes filled the forest. His angry, crazy body fell flat onto mine. I fell down into the snow. The points of his scissors dove deeper into him as the handles met the ground beside my head. The sick, tearing crunch elicited vomit from my churning gut. Echoes of the ringing vibrated through my head.
The crush of my body against the leaves seemed to ring out through the forest. My face was frozen in snow. I couldn’t breathe. His weight flattened my already-weakened lungs. The heaving of my stomach stopped and I struggled instead for air. His weight suffocated me. My mind grew limp. I couldn’t process. Scents of wet earth and decay filled my nostrils. Muffled voices tickled my ears. Perhaps angels had been dispatched to meet me in my death. I’d miss my father and my new family, but I’d finally be with my mother. I’d been saved, in a way. Like her, I hadn’t suffered the way the others had. My cheek grew numb against the earth. I had nothing left to give.
The rumble of plummeting boulders shook the earth. My eyes wouldn’t open, but the sounds roused my thoughts from a distant place. I was flying, floating, moving toward the sounds.
The dark quiet enveloped me. My heart rate slowed. My muscles relaxed. I found warmth, peace. Relaxing into the ether, I drifted peacefully away.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Whoosh. Whoosh. Beep. Whoosh. Whoosh. Beep.
The pattern repeated until I could anticipate it. My mind joined in on the song. Whoosh. Whoosh. Beep. With heavy lids and limbs of jelly, I focused on the reliable chorus. My hand moved, levitated, reached. Then, the voice of the angel.
“Elle.” The angel’s voice was burdened, sad and low.
Angels shouldn’t be sad. I hated the sound.
I felt wetness and heat in my palm. I forced my lids to open and see what my mind couldn’t understand.
Weakly, my eyelids parted, taking in the peculiar scene aroun
d me. Nicholas sat at my bedside, head bowed. His forehead was pressed against my pillow, and he murmured in my sweet angel’s voice. He pressed my hand against his wet cheek.
“You’re going to come out of this, Elle. I made you a promise. I won’t leave. I won’t … ”
Sounds disappeared. My vision cleared, as if only one sense could function at a time. The room around us brimmed with flowers of every kind. Helium balloons hovered at half-mast. Cards were stuck to the far wall from floor to ceiling. Sports Center was on the TV.
“Nicholas,” I rasped, barely audible over the cacophony of machinery.
The television snapped off.
“Elle?” My ears worked again. Nicholas hovered over me.
My lids slipped shut.
“Nurse?”
“Yes?” The intercom responded near my head.
“She’s moving. I think she spoke.”
A draft of air moved over my arms. Several bodies filed in. More voices and shuffling feet. The only voice I understood was his.
“Elle.” Nicholas moved opposite the crowd, shoved away by people in white and green coats. He positioned himself on my other side. “I knew it. You’re strong. So strong.” He sniffed and chuckled low in his throat. “Strong and stupid. I can’t decide whether to kiss you or yell at you.”
“Nicholas.”
A hush came over the room.
“Yes. I’m here. Your dad’s here, too, and Sara, and my folks.” He was still naming my guests.
I didn’t care about any of that. “I love you.” The words arrived weak and soft, but my heart spoke them with ferocity. It was all that mattered.
Warm tears ran down my cheeks.
He kissed my hand and pressed it to his face once more.
A man cleared his throat. The ugly sound broke through my bliss. I blinked my tired eyes open again, squinting against the harsh fluorescent lighting.
“Gabriella.” My father’s voice. “How do you feel?”
“Like my head is wrapped in a blanket.”
“It is.” A strange accented voice answered. A nurse or a doctor maybe.
“You suffered from hypothermia, a concussion, massive blood loss, and a myriad of less threatening injuries.” Dad lifted a weary look at Nicholas and ran his hands through unruly hair. Stubble darkened his cheeks. His hair stood on end from the rubbing. His shirt and pants looked like they’d been tied in a knot instead of folded when he picked them out.
I tossed his words around in my mind. How had I been injured? I was with Nicholas. I was with his family. I was in the woods. The images began to fall into place, like a puzzle thrown into the wind and coming together as it landed.
Terror filled my heart. My breaths were suddenly shallow. Machinery beeped louder behind me. I examined each face inside my small room. They looked joyful. I turned to Nicholas. Why hadn’t he told them?
“He’s out there. He’s in the woods. He … ” My voice cracked under the emotion. Unable to hide from the eyes that surrounded me, I rolled my head to the side and sobbed against my pillow. He touched me.
“No. He’s gone, Elle. He’s not in the woods. I promise.” Nicholas kissed my knuckles softly. He pressed his lips against my temple. The nurse ushered everyone away. Nicholas didn’t even flinch. Her words were lost on him. He squeezed my hand. A silent promise. He wouldn’t leave. My father lodged himself in the doorway, unwilling to be escorted any farther.
“Sara?” As I said it, I remembered her lying dead on the ground with us.
“She’s fine. She’s good, really.” His voice became a whisper. “Much better than you. You’ve been asleep for a week. You lost a lot of blood. Your body was shutting down. The hypothermia was bad, and your head … ” He swallowed long and hard. His eyelids closed and reopened slowly. Pain carved a deep crease between his eyebrows.
I moved my free hand to touch my head. He’d hacked off my new black hair. I couldn’t feel it. My head was wrapped in something soft and cushiony.
“You have a concussion. You’ve been through a huge trauma. I should’ve been there.”
Memories came again, this time in the vivid hues of the forest. Blinding white and deep, punctuating black. An empty expanse of trees and hopelessness around me. Sara on the ground. The Reaper and his scissors. The garbage bag.
“Where is he?” I was afraid to say his name aloud. My hands moved over the blankets. A tear blurred my vision. He had dressed me for disposal. Kissed me. A whimper escaped.
“He’s dead, Elle. It’s over.”
“How?” I cleared my throat, forcing down the wave of panic in my chest.
“Well, the autopsy will make the final determination.” Nicholas squinted his sparkling green eyes. “For starters, your dad shot him a half-dozen times.” He held back a smirk. I had to admit, it wasn’t bad news.
“That seems pretty clear.” Where was the need for an autopsy?
He nodded, as if to say “Yes, but … ”
“When they got to him, he was face down in the leaves … on top of you.” His voice seethed on the last words. “When they moved him, they saw the scissors.”
Scissors. “I did that.” It was both a statement and a question.
“Unless it was a ghastly suicide. Yes. We assumed.”
Nicholas leaned forward to kiss my cheek. His smile grew until his dimple broke free, sinking into his beautiful face and pulling a bunch of stubble with it. Then, in an act that couldn’t be put at bay, regardless of bed rails and hospital sheets and IVs, the kisses continued. His warm breath brushed across my cheek. His lips grazed the tip of my nose, my forehead, my chin. They kept coming until I felt a surge inside me. I pulled him to my lips with my free hand. My fingers locked behind his wide neck. He was warm and strong, and I loved him.
He tried to protest, but it was a halfhearted attempt. I knew I’d win. I pulled softly against his lower lip until he made a distinct sound of defeat. His mouth moved against mine. My head swam, not from injury or medication but from joy, from completion. My heart brimmed and flew. His lips parted gently, and I deepened the kiss, reveling in the taste of him.
My father’s voice boomed in the distance. “Nicholas, I’d like a moment, please.”
Nicholas released me slowly, pressing his lips to my forehead, lingering there before pulling away. His eyes smoldered inches from mine. “Happy birthday.” A wide wolfish grin exposed two rows of straight white teeth under lips made for kissing.
My birthday. I was eighteen.
“Get well so we can go home.” He squeezed my hand.
Home.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Dad warned me. Going back to Francine Frances wouldn’t be a great idea for the wallflower he knew. But it turned out, I’d changed a lot in a short amount of time. The truth and a life-altering experience could do that to a girl. I had some things I needed to do, like finish what I had started. Senior year in a quirky little town with my friends.
The town bustled and clamored in a new way since the crazy serial killer was reported to have stayed there. Added security patrolled the streets, heavy with new faces. Cameras snapped and flashed in the snowy air. Tourists took pictures of the street signs and storefronts. The quaint town had an influx of interest. A few stores added signs saying things like “The Reaper ate here,” or shopped here, or some other infuriating attempt to cash in on the monster. I ignored it all and focused on my agenda.
I nodded to Dad as he loaded the last of my things into the rental car. A wistful mix of emotion encased me as I locked my apartment door for the last time. I was voluntarily moving to another dorm. Dad had arranged a typical cramped room in Aubrie’s building, closer to the main buildings. The welcome mat and ashes were long gone, removed by the Clean Team or covered in snow. I didn’t search for them. He’d stolen enough of my time, monopolized too many of my thoughts in one form or another.
School would let out in half an hour. I hoped to get settled before then.
“Meet you at the coffee shop in
an hour?”
Dad nodded, pushing large mirrored Aviators over his broad, smiling face. The trench in my heart had pulled together, if still ragged on the edges. I had a dad who wanted me. He hadn’t left my side since the accident. A Smith family miracle in more ways than one. Nicholas’s constant presence had probably fueled Dad’s need to stay close, but I didn’t care about the reason.
“You sure about this?”
“Absolutely.”
Dad slid behind the wheel and drove me to Francine Frances through sloshy, muck-covered streets. I’d been right in September. An outside locker was not a smart choice. I smiled and shivered as I popped it open. An outdoor locker was my biggest problem and I was okay with that. The campus was silent as I loaded my personal things into my arms and made a trip to the office with the rest.
As I reached for the doorknob, the bell screamed over my head. My shoulders shot up to guard my ears. My hands were full.
“Elle!” Darcy barreled through the office doors with a dozen freshmen in tow.
I left my pile of textbooks on the large administration desk and hugged her to me.
“OMG! I can’t even believe you’re here! You’ve been on the news like every night for weeks! This town is going complete bat sh—”
“I’m fine.”
Over the sea of freshman, I locked eyes with Aubrie in the crowded hall. Her eyes popped wide at the sight of me. I pushed my way in her direction.
“Is Pixie … ?” She stopped mid-sentence. I could only imagine why. Here? Dead? Who knew what the latest rumors were.
“No. She’s good. I talked to her last night. She’s in California, and she’s supposed to send you an e-mail later. She’ll tell you everything.”
Aubrie hugged me tight around my chest and started bouncing. Darcy and the group of freshmen joined in. A few lockers down, Davis and Kate stood talking, pretending to be oblivious of the commotion twenty feet away.
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