Page 60 of Death and Do-Overs

I blinked again, this time at the light pouring in from the outside. There wasn’t another moment to waste. I brushed off my shock and chased after Levi.

He might have unnaturally powerful thighs, and he might have a magical sewing kit, but neither of those things meant hewasn’t about to get himself murdered by the same person who’d murdered his friend, and very likely the same person who’d beheaded Nie.

There was a serial killer in Nevermore.

Levi and I were safer together. I couldn’t let him die. And I wouldn’t allow the murderer to escape, either.

Fortunately, speed was one of my strengths.

I caught sight of Levi’s all-white get-up a moment before he rounded the first turn. I took off like a shot.

The path behind the hotel led to a series of alleyways. I raced after Levi, running as quickly as the twisting paths would allow.

In high school, a particularly pushy and charismatic girl had caught me in her sights. She’d decided we would be friends and dragged me along for runs early in the morning and late into the night. She’d belonged to track club. I hadn’t.

But during our silent runs, I’d gained something more valuable than our limited-time friendship. I developed a passion for that point in a run when like a switch, my body felt weightless, and the aches in my muscles melted away. Every negative thought evaporated, and there was nothing but the bliss of the wind against my skin and the pumping of adrenaline in my veins.

I’d built a coping mechanism for life, and a level of stamina that I still worked to grow to this day.

I should have been closing the distance between me and Levi. I wasn’t.

Then Levi skidded to a halt.

I slowed too, taking a moment to realize why he was no longer moving.

The alleyway ended. The entire ground ended, at the edge of a cliff.

Levi stood by the ledge.

Breathing heavy but not winded, I stepped up beside him.

Waves crashed against a steep rock slope three stories below us. A cold, salty balm cut through to the bone.

Levi stood motionless, his gaze darting around as if searching for something solid in the water below, and perhaps also to anchor his thoughts.

His throat worked up and down. Softly, he said, “He jumped.”

TheheLevi was talking about had to be the murderer. Clearly, Levi had gotten a better look at the guy than I had.

Levi peeled his gaze from the ocean and turned to look at me.

A furrow etched itself deeply across his forehead, disbelief clear in every line of his face. His mouth opened and closed without sound.

I reached a hand and took half a step forward before realizing what I was doing and stopping myself. His clear distress caused a boulder to form in the center of my chest.

“Do we…” I really should not suggest this. I hated the idea. Yet, I said, “Jump after him?”

“He didn’t hit the water. He’s not on the rocks,” Levi said, in a not-quite answer. “He’s gone. It doesn’t make sense.”

“So you’re not going to jump,” I reiterated, because this was a particularly important point. Further, I realized then that if Levihadplanned to jump, I had been about to follow without hesitation. It was an unsettling thought.

“He’s gone,” Levi said again. His jaw tightened, his nostrils flared, and a glassy sheen washed over his eyes.

Devastation—I knew that look and the feeling that accompanied it all too well. The boulder in my chest shattered into sharp shards.

It seemed that he was no longer talking about the killer, but his friend.

Every fiber of my being yearned to take away that pain.

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