Page 109 of The Executioners Three
Luis was the fastest on the cross-country team, right?
Since Freddie’s hands were free and her body warmer, it made ascending the streambed toward the Village easier. Although hardlyeasy. Nothing looked quite right at this hour. The snow hid dips and rises, and she was pretty sure she’d lost one of her contact lenses.
Or maybe she had a concussion.
Or maybe this was just what happened when the body got slugged with hit after hit of adrenaline. Either way, the left half of the world was blurry and Freddie deeply regretted ever returning Lance Bass to Divya.Noneof this would have happened if she’d only kept that freaking keychain a few days longer.
Four times, she almost tripped. And once, she did trip, landing on her shoulder with awoofof bright pain and slash of frozen cold.
Then Freddie got back up again and continued on. Shehadto. She couldn’t stop. She couldn’t slow. All she could do was pretend shedidn’tnotice the stink gathering in the air. That she didn’t see flames in her periphery…
Her footsteps faltered. That was Sheriff Bowman on the left. Freddie didn’t need both contacts to recognize the shape of her hero. Nor to see a rope of fire dragging behind as Bowman took incomprehensibly large steps.
At the exact same distance on Freddie’s right was Laina, a burning axein hand. Because why not? That was totally normal stuff. Definitelynotsupernatural.
Seriously?said a small Fox Mulder on Freddie’s left shoulder.How much proof do you need, Gellar? We have left the confines of science!
No, no, no,insisted a miniature Dana Scully.There’s always a reason rooted in nature. You just haven’t found the reason yet.
Or,came the lizard part of Freddie’s brain,maybe it doesn’t matter what’s actually happening and you just should really focus on staying alive?
Heat radiated through the forest in waves—and with it was the rotting air. It grated against Freddie’s neck like a tightening rope. It shoved down her throat like blades. And it gave Freddie no choice but to keep on running.
She reached the path into the Village. The same path Luis had jogged down only five days ago before giving Freddie an unexpected greeting. There was the blacksmith’s hut ahead, modeled after Original Fabre’s smithy.
Whichwow,Freddie had never hated the old blacksmith more—and honestly, she was glad there was still bird poop on his sign. After all, it was his stupid diary that had gotten Edgar Senior all riled up enough to publish “the truth,” and that failure had in turn gotten Junior all riled up.
She thundered past. Here was the old schoolhouse, no fairy lights twinkling in the cupola. Only the broken replica bell to creak, creak, creak on the wind.
Freddie lost sight of Laina. Only Bowman remained in view, stalking through with ghostly, intangible flames that melted nothing and sparked no trees.
Bowman was speaking now too, her voice as loud and clear as if she stood right next to Freddie. She murmured:Libérez-nous. Libérez-nous.
That was when Freddie noticed light shining ahead. A stage light, as if the Lumberjack Pageant were about to begin, and soon a bunch of teens in 1600s garb would start talking about Allard Fortin and his generosity.
Freddie rounded the school into the Village Square—where yes, a stage light was indeed turned on. And fixed right onto Theo.
Because of course it was Theo. It reallywasjust like Freddie’s dreams.
Dreams came again,she thought, remembering what her dad had written.Always the same. The Village Historique. Ghosts hunting.
Why had Dad had those dreams? Why had Freddie? Was it their instincts interpreting data faster than their logical minds could keep up? Or was there truly a supernatural force at work here?
WHO CARES?Freddie’s lizard brain screamed.STOP TRYING TO LOGIC THIS OUT, GELLAR! GET TO THE PHONE.
Freddie did not get to the phone. Instead, she pumped her legs faster and aimed right for the stage. Right for Theo. Her feet felt like wheels beneath her. Like she wasn’t attached to them at all and they were just rolling her ever onward. The steps onto the stage were so close. The same steps she and Theo had skipped up while Fortin students had teased. While Mr. Binder had barked orders about where to stand and what to say…
Freddie wished she had a script now. She wished she weren’t relying on somecompletelyinsane dream in total contradiction to nature, filled with starlight and flames and Theo.
The stage light flickered the closer she got. Then tore off in a brutalwhoompright as Freddie hit the first step. Freddie didn’t stop her approach. Not when the stink of rotten organs was thick enough to crawl down into her belly. Nor when she saw Laina and Bowman swerving closer on either side.
She just hauled up the steps. “Theo,” she rasped. “Theo, look at me.”
He didn’t look at her. He stood there, completely still and cast in shadow. The sets around him made dark shapes—a tree, a hut, that stupid pole for “chopping down.”Or,Freddie realized,for disemboweling.
Wind slid over Theo, pulling at the hair Freddie had run her fingers through only hours ago. He looked the same—unhurt, thank god. But empty. There was no consciousness in his eyes. No reaction when she slung to a stop and clutched at his arms.
He was colder than Freddie. Colder than the snow.
