Page 64 of Behind the Shadows
Death didn’t miss a beat with my confession. “And now?”
“She’s here by her own free will.”
“Good.”
Silence, thick and heavy, weighed between us.
“Have you talked to Dope? Has he learned anything new about the Pied Piper?” I wasn’t interested in discussing Holland anymore.
“Not yet. I know he’s digging. Have you reached out to him yet?”
“No. I’ve been a little busy. Plus, I was hoping Dope would have some information before I did. Help me walk into the situation more aware of what the Pied Piper is up to. I don’t trust the motherfucker any farther than I can piss.”
Death crossed his arms over his chest and looked out into the tree line. “I wish Ella would tell us what he said to her, but any time I say his name she walks away. I’m not making any headway.”
“Whatever it is, it has to be big, or she would have told us. She’s protecting someone.”
“Or someones. Hell, it might be all of us.” Death walked toward the overgrown path.
I followed him, inhaling the clean country air. It was quiet and calm, not something we got in the city very often.
“That would be a heavy weight to carry all by herself.”
Death stopped and looked at me. “Exactly, which is the kind of game the sick son of a bitch would play.”
I let out a breath, but it rattled on the way out. My hand drifted, almost absently, to the cross hanging at my neck—fingers curling around the metal, the hidden edge biting into my palm. I squeezed. Harder. Harder. Until I felt the skin split.
Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.The words slid through my mind like a knife through water. My mother’s voice. Sweet, soft, slicing me open from the inside out.
Pain sparked up my arm, bright and jagged, grounding and weightless all at once. I didn’t remember pulling the cross free. Didn’t remember dragging the blade across the inside of my forearm, just shallow enough to sting. Just deep enough to feel.
“… Kip.”
Death’s firm tone snapped the air like a whip. I blinked. My vision cleared, the world shuddering back into focus. Blood welled in a thin, trembling line on my skin.
His stare locked on the cut, then flicked up to my face. “Kip?” Death asked softly, “What the fuck are you doing?”
I swallowed but my throat was dry and raw. “I’m fine.”
A lie. We both knew it. But Death only gave a slow, measured nod. Filing it away. Watching. Waiting.
“Get some rest, man.” He turned, disappearing down the path back to the warehouse, but not before I saw it—that flicker of something rare in his features.
Worry.
27
HOLLAND
The remainder of the evening unfolded in a much more relaxed manner as we gathered around the table for dinner. The aroma of the meal mingled with the soft glow of candlelight, creating a cozy atmosphere that contrasted with the tense undercurrents of the earlier conversation. I had no idea what Death and Kip had discussed during their time outside, but a nagging suspicion lingered in my mind. It was likely about me and the decision of whether I would be allowed to live or not. If I were in Death and Ella’s shoes, I would have made my decision hours ago—and it would’ve ended with me zipped in a body bag. I seemed to have struck a chord with Ella on a deeper, more primal level. It was fascinating how swiftly people forged connections with others when bound by shared dark secrets. It felt like an unspoken form of insurance, a pact.
After dinner, Death picked up the rigid corpse from the floor with a practiced ease and then he and Kip left for a while.
Ella and I slipped on our safety masks and gloves Kip had provided and set to work scrubbing the bloodstains from the floor with a potent chemical solution that was left in theabandoned building. It hadn’t taken me long to realize what this building was used for: a remote place to kill and clean victims.
This wasn’t quite how I’d imagined the evening playing out, but in the process, I picked up a few useful tricks regarding Kip’s cleaning techniques.
Once the men returned, Death and Ella said goodbye, and Kip and I slipped into bed, exhausted. I curled against him, my head resting on his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my ear. His arms banded around me, strong and unyielding, yet tender in a way that made me feel safe for the first time in years. I spread my hand over his heart, claiming proof he was real, that he was here.
