Page 133 of I'll Be Waiting

This is the horrific thing I am doing to Shania, and it might even be worse than killing her. No, itisworse. I am sentencing her to the fate of her aunt and her sister.

“I am sorry, Shania. Truly and utterly sorry—”

“Nic!”

This time, Anton’s shout has me whirling, knowing it’s a warning and—

Tires roar on pavement. A car is speeding up the road, and the driver can’t see us with the bugs.

I grab Shania and roll as fast as I can. Brakes scream. Tires appear right where my head had been. A door squeaks open.

“Nicola!”

That voice. That wonderful voice.

I’m sorry, Anton, I adore you, but this is the voice I want to hear right now.

Keith appears, his face frantic. He sees me pinning Shania down.

“Call the police,” I say.

He hovers there. I open my mouth to start explaining, but before I can utter another word, my brother—my wonderful brother—nods and pulls out his phone and makes the call.

THIRTY-SIX

The bugs are gone. Maybe that’s the last thing I should be thinking, but it’s all my brain can process as I sit in the front yard, police cars in the driveway, ambulance out front. In everything that is happening—one person injured, three horribly murdered, the alleged killer ranting about ghosts and séances—I have been forgotten, and that is exactly what I want. A few moments to sit and stare at half-dead midges crawling on my jeans.

Keith is with Jin. I insisted on that. My injuries are minor, and Jin’s are not, though the paramedics say he’s stable.

I sit there, watching the midges die, and my mind is empty. Blessedly empty, my body equally empty, drained of adrenaline, only retaining enough energy to keep me upright.

I will need that energy. From experience, I know what happens next. The police will remember me—the only lucid survivor—and I will spend hours in questioning, praying it doesn’t end in a jail cell. But I can’t bring myself to care about that right now.

I’m safe. Jin is alive. Everyone else…

“Nic.”

When the whisper comes, it might be the only thing that couldpierce my shock and exhaustion. I follow it to see the faintest outline of Anton. Even without the bugs blocking him, he’s barely there, pulsating as if he’s already fading back to the other side.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“I think that should be my line.”

He crouches in front of me. “I can’t stay.”

My eyes fill. “I know. I shouldn’t have called you—”

One finger rises to my lips. “Shhh.”

I nod, tears spilling out.

“I didn’t get a chance to finish,” he whispers, his voice barely there now. “At the roadside. When I said I’d be waiting.”

I look up. I can just make him out.

“What I was trying to say is…” He comes closer. “I’ll be waiting. But don’t be in any rush to join me.” He looks into my eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

I choke out a sobbing laugh, and I swear I feel his lips against my forehead. And then he is gone.

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