Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
“Hold on, Arsenio.” I poured my pleas and comfort into my gaze. “I’ll get you down from there.”
“Ugh. Enough about him. We’re in the middle of a conversation, bitch. Don’t be rude.”
You’re going to see who’s the fucking bitch when I’m done.
“How do we know each other?” I forced through gritted teeth.
“Oh, that’s easy.” She beamed. “We hooked up after your grandma got herself killed.”
I reeled back.
“Yeah. You were pretty messed up over it. Wanted revenge like no one I’ve ever seen,” she said. “Scott came to you through work. He did the farm’s accounts for free. A favor for your grandmother because she brought his mom free produce when she was laid up with cancer and couldn’t get out of bed.”
“Oh my gosh,” I breathed. “Gran was the connection. Not Walker Lewis. How did I not know this? Why didn’t I remember him?”
“You didn’t meet till after she was killed. Why would you? I don’t know who the fuck my parents’ accountant is.” She shrugged. “Anyway, Scott got close to you, and you started talking a lot of crazy, violent stuff. He sent you the letters first—checking to make sure you were receptive to the help he was willing to offer. When you didn’t go running to the police, he told you who he was, and that he’d gladly help you sacrifice Andrew Clein in the name of your grandmother.”
“No,” I cried. “No!”
Pain pounded my temples.
I dropped to my knees, eyes squeezing shut as I cried out—from which pain, I couldn’t guess.
“You’re lying!”
“How would I know this if I was lying?” Zoey laughed. “The three—five—seven of us— I won’t tell you exactly how many of us there are. Because all that matters is you, me, and Cavendish had our own thing going on. You and I became friends.”
Temper leaked into her voice. “You taught me how to shoot an arrow. Not as good as you, but good enough. I taught you how to break a man’s arm in a single twist. That’s what you did to Andrew Clein first,” she hissed. “Broke his arm.”
“Stop it!”
Flashes bombarded my mind. Blurred faces, places, scenes that moved too quickly for me to grab one and make it real.
“We got so close, we started watching that time travel show you like. Every Saturday with a bowl of popcorn and homemade tacos. I called you Angel because the Weeping Angels are your favorite monster in the show. That’s who you were to me. My favorite monster.”
“No,” I sobbed. “It’s not true. None of this is true.”
“It is true!” she roared. “Snap out of this boring mental breakdown and wake up! We were friends. You know it. You remember.”
“No!”
But I did.
Fragmented pieces formed a picture of me and a brunette Blake Jensen, laughing and joking while doing target practice on a hay bale. Who would I let touch my precious bows and arrows from Gran, other than a friend?
“There it is,” she hissed. Zoey was suddenly in my face, bending my neck back by the hair. “See? I knew you were still in there, Angel.”
“Stop. P-please.”
“Oh, now you beg? We begged.” She dug the arrow tip in my neck, breaking the skin. “Scott asked you to sacrifice one worthless guy to further our cause, and you refused. Said you didn’t get into this to hurt innocent people. We tried to make you see!”
My head shook in her grip.
“No one is innocent, but everyone is honored in sacrifice.”
“No.”
The pressure in my skull was unbearable. Each horrid word from her snarling lips drove the spike deeper, unleashing a flood of memories that couldn’t be true!
“The sheriff had something we needed. All of a sudden, the stubborn oaf grew a backbone. Refused to give Scott what he asked, so he ordered you to sacrifice the sheriff’s son.”
Eyes huge, Cairo stopped struggling.
“But oh no,” Zoey carried on. “Cairo was innocent. Just a teenager. There had to be another way. Blah, blah, blah. Scott said you had two days to gut the guy, or you’d watch while I did it. You walked into the sheriff’s station that day and told Davidson everything.”
“No,” I whispered.
Yes.
I remembered the station bell chiming. Recalled Davidson’s smile as he said the sheriff was out, but he’d be happy to help me.
Zoey tsked. “Such a shame. If only Andres was on shift that day. We’d be in prison, and none of what came next would’ve happened.”
“Oh no,” I breathed, folding onto the pavement.
My hands came off the ledge and Zoey didn’t care. Glee twisted her smile as the spike pried loose the final memory.
“Yes, Angel.” Her voice neared a soft coo. “You remember how we punished you. The night we busted into the farmhouse, catching you making a cup of tea like all your troubles were over. What did we do, bitch?”
I tossed my head, shaking roughly. But the vision would not stop unfolding.