Page 40 of The Catalyst

However, the look he gives me says I’m in trouble, and he doesn’t entirely trust that I’m not going to snitch on them. It's a mixture of protectiveness and a guarded disposition.

Nigel sits beside me as the others get settled before Oisin speeds out of the parking lot. My nails dig into the bench to keep myself upright as Nigel throws his arm around my shoulder.

“Breathe,” he whispers in my ear, his voice so raspy I would think he was trying to seduce me if we weren’t on our way to participate in illegal activities.

I let out a deep breath before relaxing against the seat.

The van sways and turns, and there’s even a point where the tires lift onto the curb from Oisin’s reckless driving.

A growl rumbles deep within Nigel’s chest, full of irritation.

My guts bark from the tension in my abdomen, but I’ve never been one to complain, so I stay silent about my nerves. Besides, the last thing I want is for everyone to think I’m a wuss just because I’m anxious about this situation.

* * *

The van runsstraight over a fucking stop sign, and no one looks twice at it as Nigel picks up the masks, passing them out.

They’re Ghostface masks.

“Why Ghostface?” The words don’t come from me but from the person across the cab –Oliver.

He hasn’t spoken a word to me since last night. I’m not sure if the question is directed at me, though.

“What?”

“That’s the question written across your face, princess. You want to know why Ghostface–if it means anything to us,” he explains, his icy blue gaze blazing through me.

I feel all eyes zone in on me as my eyes stay trained on my target, the masks.

“Yeah. Why Ghostface?” I finally ask the question plaguing me, and Oliver smirks.

“He’s the only slasher the victims don’t see coming unless he consciously wants them to. Freddy Krueger had no choice. As soon as they realized they were dreaming, they knew he was coming. Jason Voorhees didn’t care if they saw him coming, and neither did Michael Myers. Unlike those three, Ghostface was always mortal and easy to kill, yet he would still taunt his victims like he was invincible. Ghostface can blend in with the shadows as he stalks his prey, watch them make hundreds of mistakes, and strike when they least expect it.” He never loses focus on me or the silver coin that dances between his fingers the entire time he speaks. It’s so creepy the way his eyes stay locked on my face while he talks about a fictional serial killer like he’s something to be idolized. And that stupid coin flips over each knuckle of his fingers mindlessly, but the twisted fuck never misses his target.

Oliver Doyle is a full-blooded psychopath.

“Don’t listen to him. Ollie is certifiable,” Nigel mutters as he tosses Oisin a mask.

“Yeah, and I’ve got the documentation to prove it.” Then, Oliver sends me the most diabolical smile I’ve ever seen. Don’t get me wrong. Physically, Oliver is ungodly perfection with straight white teeth, clear skin, tons of muscles, and perfectly groomed black waves, but the lack of anything in his smile makes me uneasy at best.

And yet, I can't deny that I've been drawn to him since we met. I get sucked in by the sound of his voice, the way he smells, and those eyes. Those hypnotizing eyes. I know I should keep my distance, but I can't, even though he's probably more likely to kill me than anything else.

Suddenly, the van comes to a screeching halt as the guys pull the masks over their heads.

“Stay here,” Nigel says.

“What? Why did I come if I’m just going to sit in the van?” I complain. Honestly, I don’t want to witness whatever they are going to do, but riding along is pointless if I’m just going to sit around like a good little girl.

“Butterfly,” Nigel grumbles before he hops back into the van and pulls up his mask, flashing those icy blues at me. “This is the only part you won’t be involved in. We won’t be more than five minutes. Just, please, do not get out of this van. There could be cameras anywhere, and the last thing I want is for the cops to come after you for this, okay?”

That makes the blood in my veins run cold, and a shiver runs through my body. Nigel isn’t making me stay because he doesn’t want me to be a part of this. It’s to keep me safe from prosecution, and there were only five masks. I’m the sixth person on this adventure.

That’s why.

“Okay. Be quick,” I demand. He jumps back out of the van and slams the door shut.

I bathe in the red light as the air rushes out of my lungs. Anxiety pumps through my veins with each passing breath and thoughts of the unknown mesh with the few knowns concerning this situation.

If I get out of this van before Nigel tells me I can, I might go to jail for an unknown amount of time. Whatever they are doing is so dangerous they can’t show their faces. It’s the best-kept secret of Grove Hill. No one truly knows what it is, but they fear what it might be. All they know is people who break the rules are never seen again.

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