All Hallow's Eve: The One Day It's BAD to Be Good (24 page)

The sound of the metal duct groaning must have gotten through to Evan, as he used his Swiss Army knife to pry the control panel off the wall.

“He’d better hurry,” Paxton said from inside the duct.

With one last look of reassurance, Ruth ducked her head back inside. A burning beam had broken through the tunnel farther up, and flames licked at Sixtus’ boots. She could hear Cecilia urging Evan on.

“Evan, cut them!” Ruth ordered, as the tunnel crumpled like a child’s toy under the heat.

Even above the roar of the flames, she heard a loud
clunk
. The swords retracted into the wall.

* * *

All Cecilia could see was smoke as Paxton and Ruth tumbled from the shaft. Fire followed, engulfing Sixtus. Michael was there, though, with the fire extinguisher. A cloud of white poured over the red and black.

Paxton choked as Ruth sputtered.

“Mom!” Evan said, as he ran up and hugged her.

Cecilia waved her hands in front of her, trying to see how badly injured Sixtus was. His arms were barely burned, but his torso looked downright singed. But what about his legs?

Where were his legs?

It took a moment for the scene to fully register. They had only pulled out
half
of Sixtus. Intestinal loops slid from his abdomen, spreading across the floor. Michael tried to pull her away from the sight, but Cecilia’s feet were planted. The scene was so incomprehensible that she could not look away.

“Crap. I thought he felt a little light,” Paxton said.

“Light?” Dahmer said, incredulous. “Light? He is missing his legs. His
legs
!”

“Think about it,” Cecilia said, trying to bring the panicked thought to full form. “The killer has forced us to this point—right to an apparently awesome way to exit. I just… I don’t think we should take the bait.”

Cecilia wanted to turn away as something sprang from the ground and flew up to block the entrance, but she couldn’t. Long, steel spikes attached to an old mattress frame hurled upward, impaling Rage through the face, chest, and gut.

* * *

“Damn it!” Paxton cursed. There was nothing they could do for Rage or Sixtus, but whoever it was in the attic seemed to need them. “Stay here,” he instructed the group, although he doubted that Dahmer heard him as he puked in the corner.

“I think this might be a two-gun situation,” Ruth stated, as she guided Evan to Cecilia. “Everyone stay put. We will be right back.”

“No freaking way!” Pancreas said. “You guys are supposed to serve and protect, man. I mean to take full advantage of that!”

Michael took Cecilia’s hand. “I agree. We’ve got to stick together.”

Damned twice over. There was nothing worse than having to protect civilians while going into an unknown situation. And hadn’t they noticed? Ruth and Paxton didn’t exactly have a great track record so far—two dead civilians in the last two minutes.

“He’s right, isn’t he, Mom?” Evan asked Ruth.

Cecilia stepped forward. “Uncle Pax, it’s no safer here. Nowhere is safe. There’s just together.”

Out of everything that had happened, his niece’s quiet words nearly made Paxton crack. How had he lost sight of the importance of keeping a bond alive and strong, even under these dire circumstances? Perhaps it was even more important now.

Paxton could only nod. He feared that if he said anything, it would come out sounding all mushy. Now was not the time to lose it.

Instead, Paxton headed toward the handle dangling from the ceiling. Ruth set up on the other side of the attic entrance, pointing her weapon upward.

Great
.
Now
the band decided to be helpful.

Paxton looked at Ruth. She nodded her readiness. Taking in a sharp breath, Paxton tugged on the handle, pulling the attic stairs down. Shockingly, nothing happened. No flames burst out. No swords flew through the air.

He could get used to this.

Step by step, Paxton made his way up the wooden stairs. He noticed that Pancreas was right behind him. Like on his ass right behind him. If the band member could have climbed into his pants, Paxton was pretty sure the guy would have. Within moments, Paxton reached the top of the stairs. He flashed his light around the hazy attic. Dust and smoke made it hard to see past a few feet.

Carefully, he mounted the last step and fully entered the attic. Paxton paused for a moment to make sure that his legs weren’t cut off or anything before he waved for the rest to join him. He could hear the crackle of the fire down below. If they didn’t hurry, the flames would overtake them.

Once everyone was on the landing, Paxton inched forward. Sweeping his light quickly in front of him, he tried to catch any sign of movement.

“Wait,” Cecilia whispered harshly, “Back over there.”

Paxton brought the light back to the right. Was there a glint of metal? He swallowed hard. Glints of metal had not served them very well tonight. And was someone standing over that glint?

“Stop!” Paxton bellowed. “Hands up!”

But the figure scurried away… glint of metal and all.

Trotting, Paxton crossed the distance, but lost the figure in the haze. Plus, there were like a hundred old boxes and dressers cluttering the floor. It was like an old lady’s furniture maze up here.

He crossed back to the object on the floor. Sure enough, it was a body. Facedown. He stood guard as Ruth checked for vitals. Frowning, she shook her head.

CHAPTER 10

Cecilia pressed up against Michael’s shirt, trying to crush the tears away. John. Rage. Sixtus. Helen. All dead. More than likely Quentin, too. And who knew how Frannie, Connor, and Paula fared?

John’s death hit her hard, though. How poorly had she thought of him? Yes, he was a jerk, and yes, he probably had done some inappropriate things with that girl, but he did not deserve to be flailed open the way he was. What if they hadn’t run from him? What if they had convinced him of the danger? Would he be alive right now? Or would he have died just as horribly as Rage and Sixtus?

Paxton and his partner spoke amongst themselves about whether to follow the figure deeper into the attic or to find an escape route down from the roof. But the way the rain was pounding against the small windows, that option seemed as dangerous as the fire from below. Only this attic—this attic, where they found poor John, separated the sound of each natural threat. His mother was going to lose her mind. She lived for him.

Choking back a sob, Cecilia turned her head so that her cheek rested on Michael’s chest. His heartbeat no longer soothed her. Now she wondered how many more minutes it would be beating. Did she truly have three days of torture ahead of her?

Her body shuddered, even though she tried to stop it. She needed to be strong at least for Evan, who looked ghostly pale and drawn.

“He’s really dead?” Evan asked. “The football captain? I mean, if he couldn’t fight the killer off…”

Cecilia watched as Ruth hugged her son. “John was just a kid, too. We’ve got guns. Paxton and I know how to fight.”

The boy nodded, wiping tears away. But Cecilia could only think of Rage and Sixtus. Look at how much guns and experience helped them. But she couldn’t give up. Cecilia
had
to believe they would survive. Somehow. Even going home and finding her mom passed out drunk in the bathroom would be a welcome sight. Well, almost.

She could only bob her head like a doll. Outside in the storm, with no walls to protect them, didn’t sound like it increased their chances. But there was no arguing that inside was safer. The house was going to burn to the ground. But where was the killer going to flee to, then? Outside with them?

Paxton gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, then moved to the far side of the room. He picked up an old wooden chair and used the legs to shatter a small stained glass window. Everyone but she rushed over to look outside. Cecilia could tell by their body language that their descent was not going to be easy. The roof had looked super-steep on their way up the hill. She could only imagine what it looked like from way up here.

He tried to coax her back, away from Jeremy, but she didn’t want to go. She wanted to understand. Her brother was dressed in the exact same costume that the killer used to lure Helen and Quentin away. How could her brother be wearing the exact same costume?

Paxton stepped forward. “Jeremy, I need you to drop the knife. Nice and slow.”

“No! I need it.” Jeremy pointed to John’s body. “Did you see what he did to him? Let’s get out of here!” her brother implored.

Out of the corner of her eye, Cecilia spotted Ruth urging her son behind a dresser. He resisted, and then disappeared behind the large armoire. Cecilia glanced around for Dahmer and Pancreas, but they had melted into the shadows as well. She guessed Pancreas wasn’t too keen on staying with the guns, now that the killer had shown up.

But it couldn’t be Jeremy. It just couldn’t. The longer, though, that she saw him in that blood-splattered cloak—the cloak drenched in Helen’s blood—the harder the time she was having denying the fact it could very well have been Jeremy. Evan had said they were separated early in the evening.