TWENTY-EIGHT

Rain.

Rain on my skin.

A pounding in my head.

The sound of frogs croaking. Of someone panting.

I peel my eyes open.

Aaron’s leaning over me. He swears when he sees I’m awake.

“Jesus, I thought I lost you,” he says. “You hurt? I see blood.”

“I’m okay,” I wheeze. My voice is scratchy, as if I haven’t spoken in years. Glancing around, I realize I’m near the bushes that line the back of the mansion. The torched mango tree looms a few feet away. I think Ruth bashed my head in before dragging me here to hide my body. Because what’s another murder when you’ve already gotten away with the first one? I’m lucky Aaron saw me. “I’m okay. Just…”

Something moves in the background, into my line of sight.

Someone.

Ruth.

Creeping closer, soundlessly, makeup smeared.

A brick in her hand. A brick red with my blood. Aiming for Aaron.

She’s going to kill Aaron. This crazy bitch is going to kill him.

“No!” I lunge forward. Pain shoots from my head to my toes.

I grip Ruth’s arm. Her eyes bulge at me. But she isn’t thrown off for long. She pushes back, tries to overpower me.

Ruth’s not just smart. She’s strong.

My vision blurs from the rain. How do I move? How do I put her down? One foot slips in the mud. Ruth shoves, hard, and I lose my balance.

Aaron leaps in, bumps Ruth sideways with his shoulder. She tumbles into a deep puddle near the mango tree. Grass and muck stick to her blouse, her skirt. Frustration dashes across her face as she sits up. But Aaron’s plan worked: he bought me a few seconds to get my bearings.

Aaron rushes Ruth again. She feels around the ground, grabs something.

Whips out the pruning shears I dropped.

Stabs Aaron in the shoulder.

A cry of pain rips from his throat.

It’s like tunnel vision. All I see is Aaron, face twisted into a grimace, blood seeping through his shirt.

Aaron folds, tries to hold up a hand to defend against more attacks.

But there won’t be any more.

The Halls can’t hurt anyone else. I can’t let them.

Ruth stalks toward me with precise steps, a quick stride. She raises the shears. Points the blades at me. I shuffle back. But I can’t run backward forever.

The cliffs wait.

Electricity surges through me. It pushes and pulls at my insides, makes my stomach flip like I’m caught in free fall.

Let me in.

I don’t know what this is. It’s overwhelming, this sensation that sparks like fireworks in my fingers and toes.

Let me in.

I’m afraid to let go. To give in.

It’s my turn.

Kelly.

I let go. An otherworldly heat races across my skin, sears my ribs from the inside out. And with that heat comes adrenaline. Energy.

Wrath.

I jerk forward and knock Ruth flat onto her back. Mud smears everywhere. I straddle her, press my forearm against her neck, use my knees to pin her down. She grunts and growls, a crazed monster. Tries to thrust her weaponed hand at me.

“No more,” I tell her.

“This isn’t over.”

I push on her windpipe a little harder. Hold steady. “I said”—Ruth gasps a little, chokes—“that’s enough.”

The words come through forceful and clear. Like it isn’t only me speaking.

The shears slip from her hand and hit the ground with a thud. She stares as if she’s seeing me for the first time. “Kelly?”

A smile pulls across my face. Kelly is smiling.

Ruth’s chin trembles. She’s afraid. Afraid she will die tonight.

But I am not like her. Kelly is not like her.

Ruth should be afraid because she will live. And by living, she will suffer.

“Get off her!” Ian roars. He sprints across the yard. Dante’s right behind him. Ian charges at me to pull me off. But Dante stops him.

His fist cracks against his father’s face.

Ian slumps to the ground, screaming, cursing. “Boy, I will break you.”

Dante says nothing.

He punches Ian again. And again. And again.

Until the sirens blare.

Police.

Dante slows, stops. Hisses as he shakes out his sore hand, knuckles raw and bruised. Ian lies in the dirt and weeps.

The street fills with emergency vehicles, cops jumping out to swarm Blackbead. Something between a delirious laugh and an overdue sob racks Dante’s body.

He screams. Into the night and the clouds. “Finally!”

It’s over.

Finally.