Page 71 of Half the Summer's Night
“I am a monster, though,” I say. “Although not one who will ever hurt you.”
Abi’s breath hitches into a soft little sigh. There’s a small, stupid part of me that does want to take my killing face off, but only because I can’t kiss her properly with it on. Rowan could, though. Rowan could press his nose into her hair and breathe in her scent and feel her hands trace the skin of his face. But Rowan isn’t real.
I am.
Still, I do reach up and push the mask up so I can lean over and brush my lips against her forehead. She tilts her face and catches them in a real kiss, her mouth on mine. It surprises me. I think it surprises her, too, given how quickly her heart starts beating.
I can’t stop myself from deepening the kiss, though. Tasting her mouth with my tongue. And she gives in to that, too, moaning softly.
“Good night, little detective,” I whisper, pulling away. “Go to sleep.”
Abi’s eyes flutter. And I watch her in bed, the way I’ve watched her dozens of times before. Except tonight, I’m not hiding in the closet like a secret.
I’m staying with her out in the open.
I leave right at dawn,when the sun is just a thin pink line along the top of the Gulf. Abi’s sound asleep. All night, I watched her, just like I promised.
Nothing happened. No one came sniffing around.
It hurts to leave her, but I know I can’t stay with her as myself during the day. I’m afraid the sunlight will reveal too much, even in my killing face.
I go out through her window rather than one of the doors downstairs. I don’t want to leave them unlocked, and I like the idea of her waking up to the warm sea breeze filtering through her curtains.
I jump down, landing hard on the dirt.Bones of steel,Uncle Nash used to say whenever I’d make these kinds of two-story jumps. I guess he’s right.
It’s still dark enough that I leave my killing face on until I’m in the cemetery. I stop near the row of pecan trees and peel it away, shuddering a little when the air touches my sweat-damp skin. I’m not usually bothered by taking it off—my real face is my disguise, my means of protection—but this morning, it feels strange, almost painful. Like I’m skinning myself.
I look down at it, crumpled up in my hands. My face. The thing that shows what I am.
What would Abi say if she knew I was pretending to be Rowan Hanover? She was worried about him earlier—and about me. Worried that I would kill him, I suppose out of jealousy.
I’m not sure what to make of that. It honestly makes my chest feel weird, tight and constricted like I have a cold.
I trudge forward through the dew-damp grass, heading down to the beach. This should be the greatest morning of my life. Abi let me inside her. She let me inside her while she was draped over my kill, and she came so hard that as soon as her contractions started, I came, too, spurned on by her orgasm. And that wasn’t even the best part.Thatwas watching her fall asleep without having to hide myself.
But I feel so out of fucking sorts. And when I stare down at my empty killing face, it just makes the feeling worse.
I reach the edge of the cemetery and heave myself over the gate.
And that’s when I feel it. The inhuman presence.
It sweeps across me, thick and undeniable. I leap off the fence and whip around to the left, catching hold of it again. Its origin is nearby. I can feel it pounding in my bloodstream.
Enough of this. I’m not leaving Abi vulnerable to a second killer. Once this presence is dead, then I know for certain she’ll be safe.
I yank my killing face on even though the rubber blocks my sense of smell; fortunately, I can still feel the presence pulsating in the direction of the beach. I run, my arms pumping, until I come to the sand dunes. The light is grey and thin, the sun just starting to slide over the water.
And he’s still close. He’s on the beach. I’m sure of it.
I don’t take the boardwalk; instead, I clamor over the dunes, keeping my body low against the thick, crawling dune vines. I peer over the crest of sand, scanning the beach proper.
I don’t see anyone, but that presence burns hotly. Hotter than it ever has before?—
Bright red movement flashes in the periphery of my vision, even with my killing face. I jump out onto the sand just as a figure cuts across the beach.
Not a man, like I assumed. A woman with long, fire-engine red hair.
I have a second of doubt—but then the wind gusts and it’s undeniable thatthiswas the strange, inhuman presence I’ve been feeling.
