Page 82 of Ghosts of Halloween

“I’ll always protect you, little bird,” he says, stroking her cheek with his knuckles. “Just like I promised then. I promise again.”

Harlow turns to me, and I swallow down the lump in my throat, scowling hard to keep myself from revealing anything. Fuck, this is miserable.

“I promise to stay with you always, here in this world. Not even death will do us part,” she whispers, gently squeezing her fingers over my hand gripping the knife. “Thank you, Silas. For everything.”

“I already made my promise to you,” I say through a tight throat. “Let’s go.”

I don’t look back at Jack, because the desperate hope in his eyes would crush me. And I don’t look at Caden, because knowing that it’s most likely the last time I’ll ever see him would make me bawl like a fucking baby.

We just have to get this over with. Just a bit longer.

Harlow follows me, her bare feet quiet on the stairs. I lead her to the entrance hall, because I don’t want her to rot in this place before she’s discovered. Her body will be displayed front and center, easy to find for anyone who comes into this house.

“Wait here,” I tell her when we’re in the entrance hall, and I walk over to the front door to unlock it. I reach into the lock, my fingers easily sinking into metal and wood, and I release the mechanism. The hinges creak loudly when the lock clicks, and the door swings lightly ajar.

I straighten, my back to her, my body between Harlow and the door.

“Will you try to run, angel?” I ask without looking at her. Becausefuck.A part of me wishes she would. I want her to run fast and far away so I don’t have to kill her. Right now, I only have the blood of my rapists on my hands.

“No,” she says, voice sounding strong. “I’m ready. And I’m sorry. I know you… You don’t hate me anymore.”

I snort, shaking my head before I turn around, watching my little angel trying to be brave despite how hard her left hand trembles, clasped nervously around her prosthetic. “No, I don’t.”

I can’t tell exactly what I feel for her. These are things that escape definition, and maybe, if we had more time, they would have crystallized into clear emotions. Respect. Tenderness. Maybe even love.

But we don’t. I’ll kill her before I can love her, and it just makes me want to rage or laugh like a maniac. What a fucking tragedy.

“Thank you for doing this, then,” she says, watching me with those wide eyes that saw so much pain and evil, and still remained so innocent. “I couldn’t… I don’t think I could do it myself now.”

I nod curtly and step over to her. “Turn around,” I say, my voice so soft, as if I’m about to whisper sweet words in her ear.

She gulps, taking my face in with wide eyes, terror warring with determination in their depths. Then slowly, she does as I said. Her dress rustles faintly as she turns, facing in the same direction as me, the front door behind our backs. The whisper of wind slithers its way inside, and I hear a curse somewhere from the street, followed by a bark of drunken laughter.

People coming back from a party, most likely. Completely unaware of what’s about to happen.

I put my hand around Harlow’s shoulders, pressing her close into me. My heart beats so fast, I feel its steady staccato against my ribcage, like it’s trying to break free of this horrible moment. My breath shaky, I breathe in the scent of Harlow’s hair as I press my face into it, slowly raising the knife.

She can’t hold back a sob, though it’s muffled, her mouth desperately closed. She shakes harder and harder as I gently press the edge of the blade to her neck, the muscles in my forearm tightening as I grip the knife hard, getting ready to slice.

“Goodbye, angel,” I whisper.

48

Harlow

I squeeze my eyes shut, holding my breath in as my entire body tightens, bracing for it. Seconds float by, sluggish and slow as the moment stretches, and something roars in my ears, the sound so loud, I can’t hear anything else. It seems to me Silas whispers something, but I don’t ask him to repeat. I won’t hear him anyway.

As the knife presses closer, a light sting cutting through my skin, I open my eyes and mouth to scream, because I can’t hold it in anymore, and…

And nothing.

I blink, shaking like a leaf, suddenly alone in the cold, dark hall. The heat and steady weight of Silas’s body behind me is gone, and for a wild moment, I think maybe it’s done already. Maybe I’m a ghost. But when I raise my fingers to my neck, I feel wetness and warmth. My neck is still whole, a tiny nick seeping blood.

“Silas?” I ask in a voice so hoarse, I don’t think anyone but me can hear it. I clear my throat just as a thud comes from the porch outside, making me jump. “Silas!” I say more loudly.

“She’s here,” a gleeful voice comes from the outside, and I whip toward the door, my heart somersaulting from shock.

That’s not Silas’s voice. Not Jack’s or Caden’s, either. I stare at the door, disbelief rooting me to the spot, because it can’t be. It fucking can’t.

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