“Hiding. Unharmed.” Theo pauses. “I told him not to come out until you said it was safe.”
I can’t breathe. “You can’t expect me to think,” I gasp out. “That it’s safe now?”
Theo shakes his head, his eyes never leaving mine. Then he tilts his head toward the gun.
“I always die,” he says. “It’s the only way to make the kill-moon happy.”
“Thewhat?” I shriek, terror lancing through me. How the hell did I ever let this monster touch me? How did I ever think I could trust him?
The bruises around my throat seem to burn.
“I can’t stop it,” Theo says. “Not until I’m dead.” He looks at me through the mask of blood on his face, eyes gleaming. “Please, Chloe. Kill me so this can be over.”
I tremble. “You can just stop,” I whisper, arms shaking. “Just stop killing?—”
Theo shakes his head. “You don’t understand. It wants me to keep going. But someone always kills me. The old farmer in sixty-five. The cops in eighty-seven.” His eyes gleam. “The woman in oh-one.”
I let out a soft, choking sob, tears streaking down my face. Theo watches me for a moment. Then he says, “And you. Now.”
He steps forward, and I shriek and try to move away from him, but the walls block me. Theo grabs the barrel of the gun and presses it against his chest. He stares at me, waiting.
“And you,” he signs again. “Now.”
My heart feels ragged. Ripped in two. I keep thinking about his rough hands on my skin, his hungry and devouring kisses.It feels like they came from another person, not this blood-drenched madman, the bodies of his victims littered around me.
“It doesn’t work,” I whisper. “The gun.”
Theo pulls the gun out of my arms, slow and cautious. I try to stop him, squeezing down on it, but it doesn’t matter. He’s too strong.
I expect him to point at me. Or to snap it in two and wrap his hand around my throat and kill me for real.
He doesn’t, though. Instead, he racks the shell into place, the sound loud and terrible in the silence of the house.
He offers the gun back to me, his eyes on mine. They’re like dry ice, so cold they burn right through me.
“Please,” he signs one-handed, and I think I can feel his desperation. It has to be my imagination. “Please, I want it to be you. Just promise you’ll keep him safe.”
Oliver. I know he’s talking about Oliver even though it feels absurd. Tears drip down my cheeks.
Theo presses the butt of the gun into my chest, and I reach up with shaking arms and take it, my breath ragged.
“The police will be here soon,” he says. “Please, Chloe. I don’t want it to be them. I want it to be you.”
The movements of his hand leave an impression on the back of my eyes.I want it to be you.
“Why did you have to do this?” I whisper, my voice ragged from my tears.
“Because it’s what I am.” Theo directs the shotgun barrel to his chest so that it points right into his heart. “I know I’ve lost you. Just let it start over again. Please.”
I sob again. The gun shifts sideways. Theo doesn’t move.
“I never hurt you,” he says. “I never hurt Oliver. And now it will stay that way.”
I curl my finger around the trigger, my whole body shaking. The stink of blood is so heavy around us. I can’t believe all theblood I’ve seen tonight. All the death. It’s not like it is in my imagination.
Penelope warned me. I thought I knew what Theo is, but she actually understands. And she tried to tell me.
I suck in a breath, brace my back against the wall. Somewhere, off in the distance, police sirens wail.
