“Two,” I murmur.
CHAPTER 34
“Murder me, because I’d like to date you.”
—NotThe Proposal
I wasn’t wrong.This night has been following the slasher formula perfectly.Sometimes a killer needs someone to help see their plan to fruition.Teamwork makes the dream work.
“You’ll be a disappointment, just like the others, and then I’ll be the One.”
The One.It seems we’re back in rom-com territory, because who better to assist a psycho in their murderous love quest than another psycho who wants to prove they’re their perfect match?
“Jamie?”
I look up and see Wes a few feet away from me.I’ve backed away and didn’t even know it.My stake is at his feet, and I should grab it, but he’s closer.He’s armed and he’s staring right at me, chest heaving, eyebrow quirked expectantly.
When it’s not two bros bonding over a massacre (if we ignore the homoerotic overtones inScream), there’s a whole catalog of slashers where a woman tasks a lovelorn suitor with the heavy lifting of theirkilling spree.It always backfires, of course, and there’s some confrontation where the suitor becomes disposable after they’ve served their purpose.Despite their undying love, they meet a gruesome end… like dying on top of a pressed-metal bar.
“There’s always two,” I say again.Louder, more forceful.Pain spears through one of my fingers.My hands are gripped so tight one of my nails—that have held up well given the circumstances—bends and breaks.They’re not the only thing holding on by a thread.
“Billie couldn’t have done all of this alone.”
And she wouldn’t have.Not for me.And ithasalways been about me.
Wes pauses, his face hard as he presses his palm against his ribs again, like he’s steeling himself—or is he just upset that his role in this may be revealed too soon?Was that why he attacked Billie?Because she was about to give away the ending?
After a stunted breath he nods.“I agree.That’s why we need to—”
“What?”
I can’t make my tone soft.I can’t revert to the way I usually talk to him.The way I was always tempted to speak quieter to make him lean in because I liked having him in my space.Because having him close made my pulse race and my skin prickle, and—what if I was just misreading all of that?What if I’ve misreadeverything?
He’s breathing heavily now, and I can’t tell if it’s from his ribs or if it’s because I’m uncovering the plot a little too early for his liking.Before he can take this from slasher back to rom-com.There aren’t any roses or messages to accompany this latest kill, and that’s off-brand.
“We need to stick to the plan and set off the alarms.”His voice is raspier than it has been the entire night.He makes sure he looks me right in the eye, doesn’t dare to blink, and that should put me at ease, but the effect of “attraction under aversive conditions” has fully dissolved now.We are firmly removed from “afraid and horny” and right on into “blinded by fear.”
“We need to set them off to let people know we’re here.”
“Or so you can draw the others out?”I ask, and watch as comprehension crosses his eyes.He straightens, winces, starts to shake his head even as I take another step away.“So that it can just be you and me?So that we get the right ending?”
When it comes to Wes, I have never not felt safe.Not until now.Not now that I look back on the night with the knowledge there are two killers and realize Wes had the means and the opportunity to commit at least half of these murders.Not when I’m disgusted with myself because I should have known better than to be seduced by some nice words and unbroken eye contact.I know you never trust the love interest.Iknowthat.
“Jamie, you’re scared.You’re not—”
“Donottell me I’m not thinking straight.”
He doesn’t.Instead, he starts talking to me in that coaxing murmur again, but this time it just makes my stomach twist sharply.
“I’m scared, too.”
I haven’t known him long enough for my heart to break, but that thread that’s been pulling me toward him certainly threatens to snap because it issounfair, cruel even, to use that voice on me right now.
“Jamie,please—” My breath stops when he reaches for me, and even when I step back again, I can’t force the next inhale down past my throat.I try to recall the way Billie and Wes have interacted all night to see if there was something I missed.Something that will act as clear evidence in determining his innocence or his guilt, but all I can see is that calculated smirk and wink before he ran for her.And the more I think about those facial expressions, the more warped they become in my mind until she may as well have been standing on a London stoop in the snow holding a cardboard sign that says To Me, Wes Is the Perfect Accomplice.When we were first on this mezzanine, when he was patching up my arm and we were discussingour theories, he said the killer was doing this for the One.Billiejustsaid that was what she wanted to be.
The singular, perfect, predestined One.
Theybothsaid it.
