Bleeding Hearts
Book 1 of the Killian Kendall Mysteries
By Josh Aterovis
Copyright 2026
Chapter 22
TW: Violence and gore
I slumped into the couch, staring at the phone in shock.
“What’s going on?” Asher asked. “Should I call the police?”
“No!”
My head was spinning. The room grew darker. I gasped for breath, then suddenly everything went black.
I was in the park, lying on the ground looking up at the dark outline of the killer looming over me. An excruciating pain shot through my side, and the taste of fear was sour in the back of my throat.
All at once, the figure above me morphed into Asher. He knelt down next to me. “Are you okay?” Panic edged his voice.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know. You must have fainted or something.”
I sat up. “We have to go.”
“Go where? What are you talking about? Who was that on the phone?”
I scrambled to my feet but had to lean against the wall again as the room started spinning. “It was the murderer. He has Jake.”
Asher’s eyes grew wide as he leapt to his feet. “I’m calling the police.”
He reached for the phone, but I snatched it from his hand. “No police! He said he’d kill Jake unless you and I show up at the house alone within thirty minutes.”
“Me?”
“He must have heard you talking in the background. He knew you were here with me. He said you have to come with me.”
“Killian, are you crazy? We can’t go over there! That’s suicide. We have to call the police.”
“He said no police! He said he’d kill Jake if he saw police.”
“But they’re trained professionals. They know how to deal with this. They’ll figure it out.”
“We don’t have time for them to figure it out. He only gave us half an hour, and the clock is ticking!”
“Killian, this is crazy! We’re just two kids. The police are armed—”
“I can get a gun.”
Asher stared at me as if I’d lost my mind. “Where are you going to get a gun?”
“My dad has guns. I had to learn how to shoot them. Remember?”
“No way, Killian! No fucking way!”
“I can’t let him hurt Jake. This is all my fault.”
“How is it your fault?”
I pushed away from the wall, grabbed my shirt from the floor and yanked it over my head as I stumbled toward the door. “We’re wasting time! You can stay if you want. I’m going.”
I was in my car with the engine running when a fully clothed Asher slid into the passenger seat. “There’s no way I am letting you go there alone.”
I threw the car into reverse without answering him. I broke every safety law in the books on my way to my old house. I was very relieved to see that Dad’s car wasn’t in the driveway when I came to a screeching halt in the driveway. It would make breaking and entering so much easier.
I was out and sprinting up the front steps almost before the car stopped moving. Without even pausing, I fumbled with the keys, even dropping them several times before I managed to unlock the door.
I burst in and took the stairs two at a time up to my parents’ old bedroom. I yanked open the bedside-table drawer, breathing a sigh of relief when I saw the pistol was still there. I took it out and examined it carefully. It was loaded, just as I’d hoped. I’d despised the shooting lessons at the time, but I was very grateful for them now.
I shoved the gun into my pocket and turned to run back downstairs but froze in my tracks.
A disheveled Gary Kendall stood in the doorway, blocking my exit. He was scary enough, but the rifle in his hands made my blood run cold.
“So it’s not enough that my shit-stain of a son has to be a fairy, and that you and my worthless whore of a wife had to do everything in your power to ruin my career—hell, ruin my entire life. Now you have to break in and steal too? Tell me, son, what’s to stop me from blowing a hole in your chest right now? Self-defense, I’ll say. I was napping on the couch when I heard someone breaking in. I thought I was being robbed. How was I to know it was my own flesh and blood?”
“I... I didn’t break in,” I managed.
“Psh,” he scoffed. “I break a window, and nobody knows the difference.”
“I would,” Asher said from behind my father.
He spun toward Asher, and I used the distraction to pull the pistol.
He leveled the gun at Asher’s chest. “Fucking nig—"
I fired a warning shot. It hit the doorframe, sending splinters of wood into my father’s face. He flinched and leaped back, turning to stare at me in wide-eyed disbelief.
I had the pistol pointed right at his face.
“I missed on purpose. It won’t happen again,” I said, my voice surprisingly steely. “I don’t have time to deal with your bullshit. Drop the gun.”
He glared at me, hatred seeping from every pore, but made no move to drop the rifle.
“I said drop it,” I growled through clenched teeth. “I won’t hesitate to shoot you. Who would miss you? A disgraced abusive politician under multiple investigations. Nobody ruined your life but you, you miserable son of a bitch. You made the choices that brought you to this point. Now drop the gun or I shoot.”
“You wouldn’t...” he challenged, though he didn’t look so sure.
I tightened my trigger finger, a small act that wasn’t lost on him.
With a roar of frustration, he let the rifle drop to the floor.
“Asher, grab it,” I ordered.
Asher jumped forward to grab the rifle then quickly moved back out of arm’s reach.
“Come farther into the room and move over by the window,” I instructed Dad.
When he’d done as I said, I edged my way toward the door.
“We’re going to leave now, and you’re not going to say anything to anyone unless you want to be humiliated even more by being outsmarted by your faggot son. Got it?”
He wouldn’t even look at me by that point. He simply nodded.
“Good. Have the life you deserve.”
I spun and raced down the stairs with Asher hot on my heels. The car was already moving before he was even fully inside. We peeled out of the driveway as he slammed his door shut, and I tore off down the road at very unsafe speeds. Asher clenched his teeth and held onto the dashboard with white knuckles, the rifle held between his knees, but he knew better than to say anything.
Sometime during my confrontation with my father, a cold fury had overtaken me. I felt strangely removed from everything, as if it were happening to someone else and I were merely watching from a distance.
We barely beat our deadline to the Sheridans’ house. It was completely dark except for an odd, muted flickering in the window of the door. The only illumination besides the moon was the single security light at the end of the driveway, which had obviously been repaired after the disastrous Halloween party.
I parked the car under the light and pulled the gun from my pocket. I carefully checked to make sure the safety was on before tucking it into the waistband at the small of my back.
Asher watched my movements with wide-eyed horror. “Fuck! Please, please don’t do this.”
“You don’t have to go inside. Just get out of the car and walk up to the house. You’ll be safer that way. Leave the rifle. I don’t want the killer to see it and know we’re armed.”
“I have never been so scared in my entire life, but if you think I am going to let you go in there alone, then you must not know me very well.”
I barely even registered Asher’s heartfelt outburst. I was hyper focused on the task before me, filled with a seething hatred for this person who had killed Seth and made my life hell in the months since. He had to be stopped, and I wanted to be the one who stopped him.
“Then let’s go.” My voice was deceptively calm.
I got out and stood for a moment, staring defiantly at the house. I couldn’t see anyone, but I knew the killer was watching us from one of those blank windows. I began to stride purposefully toward the front door with Asher right beside me muttering, “Oh God! Oh fuck! Oh God!” with every step. The dark house seemed extremely sinister, but my pace never faltered.
The door was unlocked and swung soundlessly open when I turned the knob. There wasn’t even an ominously creaking hinge. The source of the flickering light turned out to be a small oil lamp sitting in the center of the floor.
I stepped cautiously into the hall and glanced around, but I could see nothing beyond the limited circle of illumination cast by the almost ineffectual flame. There was an odd smell that I couldn’t quite place at first, a kind of chemical scent. Fresh paint?
I flipped the switch next to the door, but nothing happened.
The electricity had been shut off.
I took a closer look at the oil lamp and noticed a scrap of paper tucked under its base. As I leaned down to pick them both up, the security light went dark. The meager glow the lamp provided suddenly seemed less than adequate. I felt a little of my bravado slip away, and a tendril of fear begin to creep into the space left by its departure.
I stared down at the paper and the three words written on it: “HIDE AND SEEK.”
“What does that mean?” Asher whispered.
“It means the bastard is playing games with us. He wants us to find him.” My fury rushed back with a vengeance. This little game might have been meant to scare us, but it only served to make me more determined to catch the killer.
I patted the gun and thought that the game was more like tag...and I was it.
“Let’s call the police,” Asher hissed. “We’re here now. We followed his stupid rules. He won’t know...”
“No!” My voice sounded unnaturally loud in the complete silence that surrounded us. I lowered my tone and said, “No, let’s find him.”
We began our search downstairs. I tried to picture the layout of the house. I’d been in it often while we prepared for the party, but everything took on a different perspective in the warped light from the oil lamp. Doors I thought were close by now seemed so far away as I attempted to find them in the eerie shadows. It was a nerve-wracking process, made worse because the wick kept threatening to gutter out and leave us in total darkness. The tension of every nighttime game of hide-and-seek was intensified by the life-and-death situation we faced.
We stepped cautiously into the living room. It was empty and, like the rest of the house, eerily quiet. We moved on into the family room. At first, I thought it was as empty as the first room, but then I noticed a shape in one of the chairs in front of the dark TV. The chair was fully reclined with the footrest up, and, though it was angled away from us, it looked like someone was in the chair, head back as if they were napping.
I edged closer, and the glow from the oil lamp illuminated an arm. It looked like Mr. Sheridan. I took another step, and light finally reached his face. Blood ran from his mouth and the open wound across his neck, staining the front of his white dress shirt.
I gasped, and Asher retched.
“Is he...” Asher asked quietly.
“He’s dead.” There was no question. His eyes stared blankly at the TV, though an expression of horror was frozen on his features.
“We have to call nine-one-one,” Asher insisted.
It was too late for Mr. Sheridan, but I nodded. “Call them.”
We had no idea what else awaited us. If there was even a remote chance that someone could be saved, then time was of the essence.
Asher whipped his phone from his pocket and quickly dialed, then held a whispered conversation with the dispatcher.
“Tell them not to use their sirens or lights,” I said, remembering the killer’s warning.
He nodded and relayed my request, but then had to explain that it was an active crime scene.
He listened for a second then looked at me. “They said to wait for them outside.”
“No.”
“They said it’s not safe for us to be in here.”
“No shit, but we have to find Jake.”
I started off, leaving Asher to trail behind, still whispering into the phone.
I searched the playroom, but it was empty. When I tried to open the kitchen door, it wouldn’t budge, so we backtracked and started down the hallway.
Asher gripped my arm so tightly it hurt. I hissed in pain, and he relaxed his hold. He pointed shakily at the wall, where I noticed a smeared, bloody handprint. My head started to spin again as my stomach lurched. I leaned against the wall while I pulled myself together.
“We should wait outside,” Asher insisted.
I shook my head and pushed away from the wall to continue to the kitchen with Asher close behind. I stopped abruptly in the doorway, and Asher bumped into me.
“What the—” His voice died in his throat as he took in the room.
There was blood everywhere, sprayed obscenely across the front of the white cabinets, streaked all over the door of the refrigerator, even splattered on the ceiling. There was a puddle of dark fluid on the floor that looked as if something had been dragged through it. A set of bloody footprints led to the door to the back stairs.
Then I noticed the body. It was on the floor against the door to the playroom, lying on its side in a puddle of blood, facing us. It was Mrs. Sheridan, and her throat had clearly been slashed as well.
“Fuck,” Asher whimpered.
I agreed entirely.
What if we were too late. What if Jake was already dead?
Just then, we heard a creak from the floorboards above us. A chill ran down my body. Someone besides us was still alive in this house, and that kept the flame of hope burning that we might still find Jake alive.
Asher quickly told the dispatcher that we’d found a second body, and she repeated her instructions for us to wait outside. I once more ignored them and headed back to the entrance, but as I looked up at the wide staircase that seemed to lead to nowhere, the top lost in inky blackness, I fully hit me that a ruthless killer waited for us at the top of the stairs. He’d already killed at least four people. For all I knew, Jake was already dead too, and we were next.
I turned and faced Asher, taking in the terrified expression on his face. He was willing to follow me even at the risk of his own life. How could I do that to him?
“Wait outside,” I said.
“What about you?”
“I’m going up.”
“Then I’m going with you.”
“No. Somebody needs to be here to meet the police, fill them in.”
“Then come with me.”
“I can’t. Maybe... Maybe it’s not too late.”
Asher looked like he was going to cry, so I quickly stepped forward and wrapped him in a tight hug.
“If anything happens to me, just know I love you,” I whispered into his ear.
He gripped me harder. “Don’t say that!”
“I love you,” I repeated.
“I love you too, but nothing is going to happen to you.” I started to pull away, but he wouldn’t let go.
I gently disentangled myself from his arms and cupped his face, then took the oil lamp from his hand, turned, took a deep breath, and stepped onto the first stair.
I climbed cautiously, the paint fumes growing stronger as I went. I’d stop after each step and listen, but I didn’t hear any more sounds. When I reached the top, I turned back to find Asher still standing at the foot of the stairs, staring up at me with a look of total anguish.
I didn’t know what to do, so I gave him a little wave, then immediately realized how lame that was. He didn’t wave back.
I turned back and stepped into the upstairs hallway only to find every door closed. The only light came from the lamp in my hand. I took a step forward and noticed something on the floor. My heart jumped, but I quickly realized it was just several cans of paint and paint thinner lined up on a drop cloth, evidence that Mrs. Sheridan’s delayed renovation was finally in progress.
The killer’s game of hide-and-seek suddenly felt more like a sinister version of Let’s Make a Deal, except I’d be losing much more than money if I chose the wrong door.
I remembered which door led to Jake’s room, but, afraid of what I might find there, I went to the door across from his first. I slowly turned the knob and pushed the door open as the feeble light from the lamp spilled through. Even before I saw her on the bed, the pastel color palette told me this was Gilly’s room.
She was laid out on top of the bedspread, her arms lying limply at her sides. The front of her pale pink shirt was stained crimson with her blood. I knew without getting any closer that she was dead.
I quickly backed out and shut the door. I leaned my forehead against the cool wood, trying to decide if I could go on. If I left now, if I went back downstairs to Asher, we could probably still escape. I knew I couldn’t do that, though. I couldn’t live with myself if there was even the slightest chance that Jake was still alive and I left him behind to die.
Besides, I had unfinished business with the killer. If I could only figure out his identity, that might help level the playing field.
After reading Seth’s journal, I strongly suspected that Seth had been killed because he’d rejected the killer’s clumsy overtures, but how did Seth’s murder connect to Zack and the Sheridans? What was the common denominator? I knew it had to be someone from our school, someone who was attractive, someone who was at the Halloween party, and someone with access to Jake’s house.
Suddenly, everything fell into place. I knew who the killer was.
I was still reeling from my epiphany as I turned toward Jake’s room. I stopped. Something was different about his room. It took me a second to figure out what it was. Then it struck me. There was a very dim glow showing through the crack at the bottom of the door.
As I stood there looking at that sliver of light, I felt my remaining reserves of courage drain away. Every gory discovery had eaten away at my resolve, and now, a sense of dread washed over me so strongly that my knees buckled. I had an intense feeling—a certainty, almost—that death waited in the room beyond. Every sense I had was demanding that I get out. It took all my strength not to run screaming from the house.
I closed my eyes, making a concerted effort to summon back some of the courage I’d felt earlier. I drew myself up as straight as I could, squared my shoulders, and took the few steps across the hall to Jake’s door. I reached for the knob, but then stopped and looked down at the lamp in my hand. I reached back and touched the gun tucked in my waistband and thought that I just might need both hands. I also needed all the light I could get.
I carefully sat the lamp on the floor just outside the door, then gripped the handle, took a deep breath, and threw open the door.
It was dark inside. The only light came from a single candle in the center of the room that flickered wildly and almost blew out from the breeze created when I opened the door. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust, but when they did, I couldn’t hold back the cry that escaped my throat.
Jake was laid out on his bed, just as Gilly had been, and, for a moment, I thought I really was too late. Then he rolled his head toward me, his eyes wide with terror, and I realized he was tied up, but, mercifully, still alive. A piece of tape covered his mouth.
The moment I took a step toward him, I sensed movement out of the corner of my eye. Turning, I saw the dark figure out of my nightmares emerge from the shadows. Just as in my dreams, he was dressed in black from head to toe, his face obscured by a mask. I resisted the urge to flee and instead confronted my enemy.
“Hello, Todd.”
The killer stopped and cocked his head to one side. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, he reached up and pulled off the mask, revealing the face I’d expected to see. Todd stared back at me with burning hatred. “You think you’re so damn smart, don’t you, Killian? A lot of good it did you. You’re going to die tonight.”
I’ve always heard that Lucifer was God’s most beautiful creation. Standing there looking at Todd, I had no doubt that evil could wear the mask of beauty quite easily.
“You said you’d let Jake go if I came.” I tried to keep my voice steady.
“I lied. I do that a lot. Never trust someone who’s tried to kill you.”
“You can have me. Just let Jake go.”
“I can have you? Oh, how generous! Here’s a newsflash for you—I already have you. And Jake. Why would I let either of you go?” He paused and peered into the hallway. “Where’s your little boyfriend? I saw him get out of the car, so I know he’s here with you.”
“We found your mom and dad.” I said, hoping to distract him.
“You were supposed to. Where’s Asher?”
“And Gilly?”
His eyes narrowed. “Where is Asher? I’m not asking again.”
“He’s downstairs.”
“Call him up here. Now.”
“I can’t.”
“Call him. Or I’ll kill Jake right now.”
I heard Jake whimper, muffled by the tape across his mouth, but I kept my eyes on Todd.
My mind raced. “He got sick when we...when we found your mom. He almost passed out. I left him outside.”
He growled. “It’s fine. Maybe he’ll be a good boy and wait for me to finish with you two so I can deal with him. If not, who cares? You’re the one I really wanted anyway. And now I’ve got you.”
Part of me just wanted to grab the gun and blast the smug look off his face, but a larger part needed to understand his reason for doing this. So many questions were left unanswered. They all bubbled to the surface with one word: “Why?”
He seemed momentarily confused. “Why what?”
“Why all this killing? Why Seth? Why Zack? Why...why kill your family?”
His expression hardened. “Seth was a fucking faggot. He deserved to die.”
“Then why did you kiss him?”
Emotion flashed across his eyes, but it was gone before I could identify it. “How do you know that?”
“I read it in his journal. Is that why you killed him, Todd? Because he turned you down?”
“He didn’t turn me down!” He took a threatening step toward me, and I instinctively reached for the gun. “I don’t know what he wrote, but he kissed me. I stopped him and told him he was going to hell. That’s where all fags go. He’s burning now, and you’ll be joining him soon.”
My hand tightened on the butt of the gun nestled in the small of my back, but I left it where it was for the moment.
“What about you?” I asked quietly.
“I’m not gay!” He made an angry slashing gesture through the air, and a metallic glint took me back to the night in the park when he’d stabbed me. He was once again holding a knife, and some disconnected part of my brain wondered if it was the same one that he’d used to kill Seth, stab me, and murder his family. I’d read somewhere once that serial killers often use the same weapon as a sort of lucky talisman.
I forced my mind away from those thoughts. “Why did you kill Zack? He wasn’t gay, was he?”
Todd shook his head. “No. Just stupid. Stupid people are dangerous. I almost had you that night, but then we were rudely interrupted. I was so angry that I got careless. He saw me smash your windshield and leave the note. He read after I left. The idiot actually had the nerve to try and blackmail me in exchange for staying quiet. He’s quiet now, isn’t he?” He laughed coldly, and I felt a chill run down my spine.
“And what about your family? Why Gilly?”
He was quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice carried a note of regret. “I didn’t want to kill her. She got in the way, and I didn’t have a choice.”
“What do you mean?”
“I had just killed Mom and Dad when she came home. She was supposed to be gone longer. She wasn’t supposed to be involved.”
The matter-of-fact tone he used as he described murdering his parents horrified me.
“She started screaming, tried to call the police.” He ran his free hand over his face. “I didn’t really have a choice. So I killed her.”
“Why kill your parents at all, though? I don’t understand.”
“Why would you? Nobody understands. Maybe I don’t even understand.” He stopped and stared at me blankly. When he started again, he was talking but clearly not seeing me. Lost in his own mind. “I killed Dad first. He was watching TV in his recliner. I just walked up behind him and—” He made a slashing motion across his neck with the knife.
“Mom was harder,” he continued. “She heard the commotion and walked in just in time to see him bleeding out. She caught me off guard. Almost got away. I had to chase her down the hall and into the kitchen before I caught her.”
I stared at him in horror as he rambled on.
“That’s when Gilly came home. She was supposed to be out with friends until later tonight. I was expecting Jake, but not her. I felt bad about her, though, so I put her to bed. She always said her room was her sanctuary. She hated when I went in there without asking, but I think she’d want to be there.”
He looked up and took in my expression.
“Don’t look so shocked. It was long overdue. Everybody thinks we’re such a fucking perfect family. Dad’s an elder at church, and Mom volunteers at every function. If only you knew what goes on behind closed doors. We’re punished at any imagined sin. Dad beats the shit out of us every time we do anything he decides is wrong, and Mom just stands by and watches. Nothing is ever good enough. I’m never good enough. I’m just a fucking—” He broke off suddenly and ran his hand through his hair, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
“Todd, I’m sorry you were abused, but the killing has to stop. How will killing Jake help now? What difference will it make?”
“Oh, it was more than just abuse,” he rasped. “A few years ago, Daddy decided to teach me a lesson. He’d found some magazines in my room. I thought I’d hidden them, but nothing was ever safe from him. He wanted me to see what happened to faggots, so he packed me in the car and we went to visit Uncle Danny.”
My stomach sank as I realized where this story was going.
“Dad was convinced that Uncle Danny must have done something to me, touched me or something. Why else would his son like looking at naked men? And maybe he did. Maybe he did stuff to me, and I blocked it out. I don’t know. That’s what Dad said. Uncle Danny denied it, said he’d never do something like that, but Dad dragged him outside and started hitting him. And he kept on hitting him. And he didn’t stop. And then Uncle Danny was dead. He made me help him wrap the body in a blanket and put it in the trunk. Then we drove out to the woods, and he made me bury the body. He said it was a lesson for me, that all gays died a horrible death and burned in hell for eternity, but that it wasn’t too late for me to be saved. He made me kneel there in the woods in the middle of the night, right on Uncle Danny’s grave, and pray for forgiveness. Then we drove home and acted like nothing ever happened.”
“Jesus,” I whispered.
“Oh, you can leave him out of this. He let it all happen. Just...watched. He’s useless. That’s why I decided to take things into my own hands. I sent Seth to hell. One less queer in the world. I punished my father and mother. And now I’m going to kill three more fags.”
He looked up at me through his hair. “He’ll be the most fun.” He pointed at Jake, who had been following our exchange with terror-filled eyes. “Isn’t that right, Jakie? You see, Jake here was always the golden boy. He could do no wrong. I was the older brother, so I was supposed to know better. Half the time, I took the blame even when it wasn’t my fault, just to spare him and Gilly. I was always trying to be a good big brother. Do you know how many beatings I took for you, Jake?”
Todd walked over to the bed as I slid the gun from my waistband, still keeping it behind my back.
“And how did you repay me?” Todd was now speaking solely to Jake. It was almost as if he’d forgotten I was there. “By turning into a little faggot and screwing around with Gilly’s boyfriend. Maybe I should have seen it coming. You were always so pretty.” He dragged the tip of the knife down Jake’s cheek as Jake whimpered through his gag.
I aimed the gun at him. Things had gone far enough. “Todd, drop the knife and back away.”
Todd glanced idly over his shoulder, freezing when he saw the weapon in my hands. “Well, well, well. It looks like Little Killian finally grew a set after all those years of following that jackass Zack around like a sheep. I should have killed you when I had the chance.”
“Back away from Jake now. I won’t shoot you unless you give me a reason.”
He looked at me and sneered. “Like I haven’t given you enough reasons already? You’re a pussy, Killian. You’ll never shoot me. You can’t do it.” He turned back to Jake.
I looked down the sight on the barrel of the pistol and centered it on Todd’s back. My finger tightened, but I hesitated. I’d threatened to shoot my father but would I have really followed through? When it came down to it, could I take the life of another human being?
“Maybe you should just shoot me.” His voice was softer now. There was almost a break in it. “It all ends tonight no matter what. I’m dying with or without your help. But not before Jake.”
Before I could even register what was happening, he thrust the knife toward Jake’s chest.
“No!” I screamed.
I pulled the trigger.
Everything went into slow motion, each detail engraving itself permanently into my memory.
The sound of the gunshot was deafening.
The bullet hit Todd just as he brought the knife down, driving him back and spinning his body on impact.
The knife struck Jake in his left shoulder but sank deep.
I stumbled back after I fired the shot. I wasn’t in a proper stance. My foot hit something and I heard the sound of shattering glass behind me, but I didn’t look. I didn’t dare turn away from Todd.
He stood facing me, disbelief written on his face, as I stared back. I’d shot him. I’m not sure which of us was more shocked.
Then, without breaking eye contact, he reached with his right hand for the knife protruding from Jake’s chest and viciously yanked it out.
Jake let out a strangled scream, and I fired a second shot, this time hitting Todd squarely in the chest. His body jerked as the bullet ripped through him, sending him stumbling backwards.
The knife slipped from his grip and bounced with a clatter as it hit the floor.
Todd’s mouth opened in a scream, but no sound came out. I pulled the trigger once more, and he slammed back into the wall before slowly sliding to the floor. He stared at me for a few more seconds, then I watched as the life left his eyes and his body slumped against the bedframe.
I kept the gun trained on Todd, my hands shaking and my ears ringing.
He remained motionless.
He was dead.
I had killed him.
I seemed unable to take it all in. I had just killed someone. Yes, I had done it to save my friend, and ultimately, myself and Asher, but still. A life had ended, and I had taken it. I would have to live with that for the rest of my life.
I stood with the gun still pointed at him for a long time—I couldn’t begin to guess how long. I was in shock. It could have been seconds, it could have been minutes, it could have been hours. Gradually, though, I became aware of a crackling sound and a steadily increasing heat at my back. I dropped the gun and slowly turned around.
The lamp lay on its side, the chimney shattered on the floor. The oil had leaked out and caught fire from the exposed wick and was quickly spreading.
I rushed out into the hall and tried to stomp out the fire, but it was no use. The oil flared up as quickly as I extinguished the flames.
I had to get Jake out of here and fast.
I rushed to Jake’s side and stared down at him with my heart in my throat. His eyes were closed, and he wasn’t moving. He was so pale and there was so much blood that, for a second, I feared it had all been for nothing, but then I noticed the shallow rise and fall of his chest.
There was still hope.
I began fumbling with the knots, which were slippery with Jake’s blood. I wasted several precious seconds before I realized it was hopeless.
Then I remembered the knife.
I searched the floor and spotted the blade half under the bed. I snatched it up and started sawing through the thick ropes. By the time I got him cut loose, the flames had completely engulfed the doorway.
I had to find another way out. I turned and spotted the window. I ran to look out, and my stomach dropped. There was no way. We were on the second floor with nothing below us but the hard ground.
The smoke was growing steadily thicker, making it harder and harder to breathe. We needed air.
I remembered a fire safety class that said to get on the floor in a fire because the air would be clearer. I dragged Jake off the bed and lowered him to the floor, then rushed back to the window to open it. It was stuck. I started coughing.
I grabbed the desk chair and smashed the glass outward. For a moment, I stood gulping in the cool, fresh air greedily.
Then, with a deafening whoosh, the fire behind us suddenly burst into a raging inferno fed by this new source of oxygen. I dropped to the floor next to Jake as a blast of superheated air washed over us.
All I could think about was the pain. It was like the gust of hot air in your face when you open a hot oven but a thousand times hotter. My eyes felt like they’d been dried out, and my skin hurt so much it was all I could do to not scream.
Slowly my mind began to function again. I forced my eyes open and stared at Jake’s face. He looked so peaceful. For a moment, I wanted to give up.
Todd may have not gotten the satisfaction of killing me, but I was going to die anyway.
My mind turned to Asher. He’d tried to talk me out of coming. He’d tried to stop me from going upstairs. I should have listened. Now I’d never see him again.
Then I heard something. Voices?
At first I thought I was imagining it, but then I listened intently and realized I could hear someone calling over the roar of the flames. Asher? And...a second voice? But who?
I pushed myself up to my hands and knees and screamed, “Help!”
“Killian?” It was Asher. “Where are you?”
“I’m trapped by the fire!” I called back. “Jake is alive, but he’s hurt. He’s unconscious.”
“Is the bed burning?” It was the other voice. A woman, but I couldn’t recognize it over the sound of raging inferno.
I looked over at the bed. The flames hadn’t yet reached it.
“No.”
“Get the blanket and wrap it around yourselves, then run through the fire as quickly as you can.”
“Are you sure?”
There was a pause. “There’s no other way.”
I grabbed the heavy quilt and yanked it off the bed, then pulled myself to my feet. The heat was almost unbearable. I felt like I could feel my skin blistering. I had to hurry.
I tried to lift Jake, but he was dead weight. I let out a sob, and almost crumpled to the floor, but then Asher’s voice carried over the din, “Come on, Kill. You can do it! I believe in you.”
Through sheer willpower, I reached down deep inside and somehow found the strength to heave Jake up to his feet. I grabbed the quilt and threw it over our heads, tucking the loose ends around our bodies as tightly as I could with one hand. It wasn’t perfect, but I was out of time. It would have to do.
The light from the fire even penetrated the thick material of the quilt so I could see Seth’s face quite clearly.
“I’m going to get you out of here,” I promised him.
I squeezed my eyes shut and ran as fast as I could in the direction of the door, half carrying, half dragging Jake’s limp body.
The heat was like nothing I had ever felt before. Every nerve in my body was shrieking in agony, and every breath seared my lungs and throat. The quilt began to unwind from around us, tangling in my feet and tripping me. I would have fallen, but I crashed into what I assumed was the doorframe with a bone-crunching thud, the full weight of Jake’s body adding to the impact. I ricocheted off, and the momentum actually carried us through the door and into the hall.
“This way!” a voice shouted from off to our right.
I stumbled blindly in that direction and didn’t stop until I slammed into someone.
“Oof!” they grunted from the impact, and we went down in a tangle of smoldering fabric, arms, and legs. The quilt was ripped off us, and I saw Asher’s soot smeared face, his eyes wide with panic. And behind him stood Judy.
“Hurry!” she yelled. “We need to get out of here. That fire is spreading fast. This old house is going up like dry tinder.”
“Jake is unconscious,” I gasped, greedily gulping the comparatively cool air. “He’s lost a lot of blood.”
“Then we’ll have to carry him. Now move!”
It was much easier for the three of us to lift Jake, especially with Asher taking most of his weight. I tried to help, but an excruciating pain shot through my shoulder where I’d run into the door. I clenched my teeth and did my best to ignore it.
We staggered toward the stairs and careened down as quickly as we could. About halfway down, Asher missed a step and slipped. He crash landed on his butt, wrenching Judy and I off balance, and we half slid down the remaining stairs, landing at the bottom in an undignified heap.
We paused for a moment to catch our breath, but before we could even get back on our feet, a series of loud pops sounded from upstairs. The flames must have reached the cans of paint thinner.
“Come on,” Judy cried.
We hefted Jake once more, but we hadn’t gone more than a few feet before another, much bigger explosion shook the entire house.
“What the hell was that?” Asher yelled.
Before anyone could respond, an ominous creaking above our heads stopped us dead in our tracks. Seconds later, a large section of the ceiling crashed down only a few feet away, showering us with sparks and burning debris.
Suddenly, the front door flew open with a bang to reveal several uniformed police officers. We all stood staring at each other in surprise before the officers leapt into action. Someone scooped up Jake. Other strong arms rushed the rest of us out of the burning house. Heavy blankets were wrapped around our shoulders as we were herded toward a group of cruisers and a single ambulance parked in the yard away from the house.
“Is there anyone else in there?” one of the officers asked.
“No one alive,” I answered numbly.
He gave me a startled look, but I just turned to look at the house. Flames were leaping from the window of the bedroom where we’d been only minutes before. They could already be seen behind the glass of some of the other windows as well.
I heard someone call for the fire department and more ambulances, but everything was receding quickly, as if I were hearing it from afar.
Then everything went black.
The next thing I knew I was lying on the ground staring up at the stars. I had an oxygen mask over my face, and an emergency medical technician was kneeling over me with a concerned expression. Over his shoulder, I saw an anxious Asher.
The EMT’s face relaxed when I focused on him.
“Hey there, champ. How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay,” I mumbled through the mask. “I just passed out. Take care of Jake.”
“He’s being cared for,” the EMT replied. “Don’t worry about him. I’m here to check on you. You got a little crispy in there. Inhaled a lot of smoke too. You really need to quit.”
When I didn’t laugh at his little standup comedy routine, he quickly moved on, “Are you injured anywhere else?”
“My shoulder hurts. I ran into a wall.”
He began to check me over as carefully as possible, but I still yelped with pain when he got to my shoulder.
“Sorry, kiddo. I need to see what’s going on here.” A few unpleasant moments later, he stopped torturing me and sat back. “I think you’ve dislocated it,” he reported. “If that’s all it is then that’s easy enough to reset, but we’ll need to get you to the hospital for some x-rays first, just to be sure. Out here in the field, all I can do is immobilize your arm and give you something for the pain. Think you can handle it?”
I nodded.
“Atta boy.”
He worked quickly, and he had me fixed up with a sling in no time. Then he handed me a couple of pain relievers. “Take those and try to keep your arm as still as possible. I’m going to go check on your friend now, but if you need anything more, just holler.”
Asher quickly took his place as I swallowed the pills dry. Tears welled up in his eyes and spilled down his cheeks. “You almost died in there.”
“I was ready to give up but then I heard you calling.”
“Are you... Are you okay?”
“I...don’t know,” I answered honestly. I couldn’t take my eyes off the burning house.
“What happened in there? I heard gunshots.”
“I shot him. I killed Todd.”
“Todd?”
“I had to. I did it to save Jake.”
“Todd was the killer?”
I tore my gaze away from the blaze to look at Asher. His eyes were wide with horror.
“I had to do it,” I pleaded with him, and his expression softened.
“You did what you had to do. If he was the killer, then he deserved it.”
“I didn’t want to. But he wouldn’t stop. He was going to kill Jake.”
I tried to sit up, but pain shot through my shoulder once more. I managed to force myself into a sitting position using my other arm. Asher placed a hand on my good shoulder to steady me, his eyes filled with concern.
“Maybe you should just lay down—”
“He killed Seth, and Zack, and Gilly. He tried to kill Jake. He was going to kill me. I shot him, Ash. I shot him three times.”
“Kill, it’s okay. You’re okay. You saved Jake. You did it. I’ve got you.”
I collapsed against Asher’s chest as sobs racked my body. He gently wrapped his arms around me, my injured arm cradled between us. He rocked me back and forth on the lawn while I watched the house burn over his shoulder.
I thought about what he’d said. Had I saved Jake?
I glanced over at the ambulance where they were working on him. They had him inside so I couldn’t see him, only the backs of the EMTs working to keep him alive.
I was too late to save Gilly or her parents, just like I’d been too late to save Seth. But maybe, just maybe, I’d saved at least one life tonight.
I searched for Judy and spotted her talking to a police officer who seemed to be recording her. Why was she even here? I thought she’d returned to California.
Just then, another ambulance screamed onto the scene, lights flashing, and one of the EMTs jumped out of the ambulance where they were attending to Jake and started across the lawn toward the new arrival.
“Excuse me,” I called out to her as I sat up.
She paused.
“The boy you’re trying to save, will he be all right?”
She crossed over to us and squatted down with a kind smile. “Are you the kid who pulled him out of there?”
I nodded. “I had help.”
“Well from what I hear, you were a real hero. You got him out in time. He’s injured pretty badly, and he inhaled a lot of smoke, but he’s going make it.”
I sagged against Asher in relief.
Every square inch of my body was in agony—I only hoped the painkiller would kick in before the adrenaline wore off—but Jake was alive.
For the moment, that was all that mattered.
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