Page 60 of Haunted By the Shadow of Death

“Yes. I’m sure.” I hadn’t thought I’d have to convince him. I’d been so concerned with his being disgusted or terrorized, his not believing it had never occurred to me.

“When do you see her?” he asked. He ran a hand over his shadowed jaw.

What if I couldn’t convince him? Then what? How did I prove this?

“I’ve seen her every time someone has been about to die in my presence, except the ones she killed through me or I killed. When I hear those steps, I know someone is about to pass on.” I shuddered just thinking of it.

“You know she’s coming before someone dies?”

I nodded. “I hear booming steps before it happens. It’s like hearing the footsteps of God, it’s so loud.”

He tilted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes. “Wait a second. That’s how you knew my guy was going to die at that dinner when he had the accident?”

I nodded, having forgotten that he’d picked up on how spooked I was that night.

His lips parted on an almost-silent gasp. It was a small enough sign but the equivalent of someone else shrieking. I’d finally found something that shocked Kicks.

“So…Zetti?” he asked.

“Death wanted it to look like me, but she killed her. She killed Louise and Blondie too. She kills anyone she thinks might be a threat to me. She wants me alive so she can use me.”

Kicks looked at me then took a few steps to walk about the area, trying to digest it all. He could have days if he needed, because this was one tough pill to swallow.

He finally turned back to me. “I just want to make sure I’m very clear on this. She didn’t just collect Zetti’s soul, but actually killed her?”

“She killed her. She wanted her dead, and she killed her.”

“Do you know why she’d want to set it up to make it look like you were killing these people?” It seemed like he was going along with what I’d said, but he was definitely struggling down the path as he went.

“She wanted these deaths to look as if they were caused by me. She wants to use me as a tool to send a message. I guess it’s a little hard to do that when you can’t communicate directly.” The more I told him, the easier it felt. I’d been holding on to this for so long that letting it go was like shoving an elephant off my chest.

“What message?” he asked.

Each new part he heard might be one more step toward his disbelieving me, and yet I couldn’t stop talking now. I wanted it all out there.

“She said that the people behind Death Day took something from her. I don’t really understand anything about that, but it’s what she said. She wants to use me somehow to get retribution or revenge. I don’t know every detail. It’s not like I seek out these conversations with her. When I do see her, I want her to leave as soon as possible.”

He nodded. “What exactly did she say? Repeat everything you remember.”

I tried to go through every conversation I’d had with her, repeating it as best as I could. By the time I was done, Kicks was sitting on a fallen log, looking as confused and confounded as me for once. It was a lot better than the disgust I’d expected. It was almost nice to have someone experience the overwhelming nature of this situation with me instead of feeling like I was out there drifting alone.

Kicks was silent for a while, and I sat down on a log, waiting for him to come to terms with it all.

Then he was up again, taking a few steps around as if it would help him figure this out. “The other deaths, were they her as well? The ones back at Groza’s?”

“No. Those were me.” Lumping them in had occurred to me for a second, but did it matter at this point? The whole mess was a nightmare, no matter what column the check went in.

“It was only a question, and don’t think for a second I’m judging you for them,” he said softly. “If you want to know the truth, I’m glad you can kill like that. That you can defend yourself. It puts my mind at ease.”

I watched him, trying to catch a glimpse of some hidden feelings. “I don’t understand why you aren’t revolted by me.”

“Why would I be?” he asked, as if that question stumped him more than anything else I’d said.

The relief of getting it all off my chest was fading as the reality of leaving Charlie rushed in behind it. And leaving Kicks. That reality was hurting worse than I’d imagined. I grabbed my canteen, taking a sip and wishing it was whiskey or something stronger to numb some of the pain.

“At least you see why I have to leave now,” I said.

“I’m not letting you leave. It’s a death—”

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