Page 99 of Whispers of Helena
As in life, so in death, I suppose.
I step forward, my eyes locked on the staircase ahead when suddenly, a light floods the upstairs hallway.
“Who’s there?” Bennett’s steady voice cuts through the silence.
I freeze at the base of the stairs, fingers flexing around the rope.
Low and melodic, I murmur, “Death. Death is here.”
The sharp intake of breath from above is all the confirmation I need.
He heard me.
“Get the fuck out of my house!” His voice rises, but there’s a crack in it now, a thread of something he can’t quite hide.
I place my foot on the first step. “No one leaves here alive, Bennett.” My voice is gravel, ground down by the weight of vengeance.
His footsteps pound toward the landing, and another light flicks on, spilling down the staircase. He steps into view, his eyes wild, scanning the space, searching.
“You might have taken my brothers, my hands,” he growls, reaching behind his back. The glint of metal catches the light as he pulls his gun. “But your killing stops now. Come out, you coward.”
A slow smile curves on my lips as I whisper, the words dripping from my tongue like a curse.
“Death, Bennett. Death.”
Again.
And again.
A dark mantra, a drumbeat in the suffocating silence.
His gun wavers. His eyes dart wildly. I see the tremor in his fingers, the shallow hitch in his breath.
Fear.
I welcome it.
He moves cautiously as he descends the stairs, his eyes still cutting through me as if I don’t exist. I step back, slipping soundlessly into the shadows. He passes so close, I could reach out and feel the heat of his body, the tension humming beneath his skin. His gun remains poised as he sweeps the space, searching.
As he moves through the house, he flips on every light, illuminating the empty rooms, his breath coming faster with eachhollow space. He doesn’t know I’m right behind him. A malevolent shadow at his back, moving in sync with his every step.
He pivots toward the back door.
Now.
I tighten my grip on the rope, stretching the cord taut between my hands as I step forward, arms poised to loop it over his unsuspecting head. My breath is steady. My hands do not shake.
Voices.
A flicker in the corner of my vision pulls my gaze to the window, where figures are moving through the night. My pulse slams against my throat at what I see.
Spirits. Crossing the yard.
Bennett reaches the door before I can react, stepping onto the porch.
Fuck.
I force air into my lungs, reining in my shaking resolve, and follow him outside. The cool night air does nothing to temper the heat thrumming beneath my skin.
