Page 97 of False Idols

“Sinful dirty woman,” he spits at me. The words rumble and vibrate against my chest. He raises his knife and it shines bright in the moonlight, but I still have hold of the gun. I don’t know if he doesn’t realize I have the gun with the way he’s taking his time. Maybe he knows I have it but doesn’t care. For so long, The Reaper has been the thing we all fear. The demon in the dark that claims whoever they choose with no repercussions.

He never thought it was going to be me that ended him, but pride always comes before a fall and The Reaper is not the only one capable of vengeance tonight. I bring the gun up and fire. His eyes go wide when the bullet hits home, but he doesn’t stop bringing the knife down. He’s going to kill me and there’s nothing I can do about it. I fire again and close my eyes and think of Beau. I love him so much.

I want him to live a long, happy life so I keep firing with my eyes closed, but the knife never reaches me. I open my eyes and look at the Reaper. His eyes are on me and blood drips from his mouth. The black robes he’s wearing stain darker with his blood, but he’s still holding his knife high. It’s suspended in the air, a hand is there supporting it, holding it above me.

I fall back onto my hands and look up to see who it is that stopped The Reaper.

It’s Marcus. The cop with the kind eyes stands there with one hand around The Reaper’s arm and the other pressed to his side. Blood flows down his side and he looks weak, but he’s still strong enough to hold the knife where it is.

“Shoot him again,” he grits out between clenched teeth.

I shoot The Reaper again.

38

BEAU

I don’t know where Nevaeh is. She ran off with The Reaper on her ass.

“I love you.”

Those were the last words she told me. I push away from the wall and go as fast as I can. I’ve lost a lot of blood, but I’m good. I can do this. I have to get to Nevaeh. I get to the door of the office when I hear the gunshots. Once, twice, a pause and then three more in rapid succession.

“Nevaeh!” I have to get to her. What the fuck is going on? Whose gun is that? The library is a mess. Minnie’s lifeless body is sprawled out on the floor and her head is a bloody mess. Nevaeh made sure she’s not getting up again.

I get to the hallway and that’s when I hear the solitary pop of the gun go off and then silence. Fear settles into me. Whatever was happening is done. I can feel it in the air. When I stagger into the master bedroom, it’s The Reaper that I see on his knees. Marcus stands above him and Nevaeh is on her ass, my father’s gun in her hands.

“Angel,” I say and she looks at me.

“Beau!” She’s on her feet and hobbling towards me as soon as I speak. There’s blood running down her leg and I know she’s been stabbed.

“Are you okay?” I ask her, trying to reach for her leg. But Nevaeh throws herself at me so hard that I grunt and almost fall on my ass, but she holds me up. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m all right.”

Nevaeh shakes her head and starts looking around the room. “No, you’re not. You’re bleeding out. We have to get you to the hospital.”

“They’ll be here soon,” Marcus says and rips the knife from The Reaper’s hand. “I called it in because this motherfucker,” he yells and kicks The Reaper’s motionless body, “tried to kill me.” He stomps hard, brings his foot down on The Reaper, “You killed my partner!” He keeps stomping and it’s Nevaeh that goes to him and stops him with a hand on his arm.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m so sorry.”

Marcus goes still and then the man bursts into tears. “Thank you.”

Flashing red and blue lights greet us when we make our way downstairs. I feel faint but keep going while Nevaeh helps me to the door. There’s a dozen cop cars, plus a firetruck and an ambulance, in front of the house. They’re already working on getting Simon’s body down when we get outside. It’s still storming out but I hardly notice it.

Nevaeh and I walk out into the rain together. There’s no other place in the world that I would rather be than beside her. We hold each other up while the storm beats down on us and washes us clean.

* * *

FIVE WEEKS LATER…

“I don’t care if you don’t want to do a couple’s costume. We’re doing it,” Nevaeh tosses over her shoulder as she walks down the row of costumes. We’re in the local costume shop and Nevaeh is dead set on us getting matching Halloween costumes. I talked shit because she expects me to talk shit, but we both know I’ll give her whatever she wants.

“Fine, but no fucking tights,” I tell her.

She laughs and looks over my shoulder. “That’s it, you’re going to be Peter Pan”

“Fuck.”

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