Page 104 of Worse Than Wicked
But then I hear an ear-piercing scream.
Mabel.
I race out the door and down the steps, for once not thinking before I act. I drop Seeley as my feet hit the grass, and then I’m across the lawn, to where Mabel is on her knees. That’s when I see him. At first, I didn’t see him on the ground, in the grass.
Blood is pumping out of a hole in his chest.
I drop to my knees, shoving Mabel aside without awareness, and drag him into my lap, slam my hand over the hole.
“Duke,” I cry, the word nothing but breath and panic. “Brother. Look at me.”
His eyes open, roll up, and then they find their anchor and come back to me. My insides turn to liquid. I gently remove his smeared glasses and stare down into his eyes, my twin, my mirror, my everything. The corner of his mouth trembles, tilts up.
I press down harder. “Duke. Stay with me.”
“Baron,” he says, his voice rough, fading already. His eyes flutter closed again.
“No,” I say. “No, no, no. Don’t do that. You said you’d stay with us.”
“Baron,” he says again, his lids lifting like it takes effort. “I’m scared.”
“Me too.”
His hand finds mine, and he holds on. “Don’t let me go,” he says, his eyes searching mine, stronger now, vulnerable, so fucking scared. “I’m not ready.”
I turn my top hand over and lace my fingers through his. Under my other palm, I can feel the thuds already slowing, that there’s more warmth in my lap now than under my hands.
“I won’t let go,” I tell him.
“Promise?”
I squeeze his hand, and then I do something I’ve never done before, something I never do.
“I promise,” I say. “You’re going to be okay.”
His lids flutter again. “You never lie,” he whispers faintly.
“Don’t go,” I tell him. “Not yet. Stay another minute. Please, Duke.”
I turn to Mabel. “Light a match.”
“What?” she whispers.
“Light a fucking match,” I say, my voice shaking so hard I can’t yell at her for being so fucking slow.
She backs away, and I think she won’t, but I can’t do it myself because I can’t let go of his hand. I turn back to him, for one horrible second sure it’s too late. His face has gone white, his lips colorless. I hear the sirens in the distance, and I’m vaguely aware that she must have called an ambulance, but I know we don’t have that much time.
And then there’s a crackling behind us, swelling fast, growing louder as golden firelight bathes Duke’s face.
“Look, brother,” I say, squeezing his hand again. “Open your eyes. We lit a fire for you. Look at the flames. Aren’t they dazzling?”
His lids flutter open again, but only halfway. His lip trembles. “Oh,” he breathes. “For me?”
“Everything is for you, Duke,” I say. “It was always for you.”
He stares up at the flames engulfing the house. His fingers twitch and then go still. Slowly, I watch the light fade from his eyes, until all that’s left is the refection of the fire behind me.
twenty-seven
