Page 127 of Fragile Facade
Town citizens are on the lawn, down the street, and banging on the front door, shouting aggressively. Business owners and cult members, even some of The Misfits, an angry mob of everyone we’ve been trying to protect. Glitch’s parents are out there, faces skeptical. And right there, in the middle of all of them, with wide sad eyes and an innocence about him that’s going to get him killed, is the boy whose dead dad is still cooling in my morgue.
“The fuck are they doing?” Ransom asks. “Are they after Ghost?”
I look to see where Ghost is, but he’s gone. Vanished into thin air.
“Vile House! Unmask and show us who you are!” someone shouts.
“How do we know they aren’t Reaper Corp members?” someone else yells.
“Reaper Corp killed the Vile Boys and now they’re parading around in their masks!”
“Fuck,” Facts gasps. “Why didn’t I see this coming? I should have fucking predicted this!” Before he can beat himself up too hard, he gasps again, and when he whispers, “No,” it’s a word full of dread. I follow his gaze to one of the Moros firefighters, not understanding his reaction.
The knot of dread in my stomach worsens, tightening and twisting as rocks and bottles and eggs hit the house. Never in Moros history has Vile House been doubted. I look at my boys in their masks, watching the hysteria unfold and reacting to it in different ways.
They’ve thrived as hunters. Now we see if they’ll thrive as prey.
“We’re unmasking you, Vile House!” someone declares outside.
And the town cheers.
The End.
