had no idea how strong the Reapers were. They could obviously break glass. He had to hope they wouldn’t be able to leverage themselves under the door with any real force.
“Okay, now the window.”
“How did you know what things to put in that emergency kit?” Kirsty asked. She sounded awestruck. “I mean, they were exactly the things we needed.”
“I spent three nights awake, thinking about these things,” Jonathan said. “I imagined a dozen different ways they could get into a house or a room or a car. I guess my imagination paid off for once. Now, let’s figure out what to do about the window.”
The window would be tough. It was five feet across and at least four feet high. They might be able to wedge the mattress from the bed in the space, but Jonathan didn’t think so. Besides, even if they got it up there, they had nothing to hold it in place. No way tape was going to work on that.
He searched the room hoping to find something that would act as a barrier but found nothing. The dresser was too heavy and not big enough. The walls were bare except for another one of those faded tapestries, and it was too small as well. The only things big enough to cover the window were the blankets, the sheets, and a set of beige curtains hanging from a wrought-iron rod.
So that’s what they used.
“Can you hand me the hammer and nails?” Jonathan asked.
Kirsty lifted the emergency bag and hurried to close the distance between them. Jonathan took the hammer and a box of nails from it. He hated standing near the window, felt that at any moment it could burst inward, but he was lucky. It took him three minutes to nail the curtains over the window frame and another five to repeat the process with the duvet and a heavy woolen blanket. The barrier wouldn’t keep those things out, not in the long run, but it would slow them down. It should be enough. All he and Kirsty needed were a few seconds to get into the bathroom and lock the door.
Once the window was as secure as he could make it, Jonathan returned to the door and checked it. Nothing seemed to have been disturbed. So far…so good.
“What do we do now?” Kirsty asked, still by the window, holding the emergency kit.
“That depends on what they do next,” he said. “For now I guess we wait.”
Everything was so quiet.
Jonathan sat with Kirsty on the bed. Every few minutes he rose and checked the door to make sure the seal was holding. He kept the fireplace poker in his hand, taking comfort in its weight.
“What time is it?” he whispered.
“Almost ten,” Kirsty said. “We’ve been in here for hours. Do you think they’re gone?”
“There’s no way to know. We should probably stay here until morning.”
Kirsty scooted closer to Jonathan. Her hip touched his, and he looked at her, trying to smile.
“I’m just so glad you’re here,” Kirsty said.
She leaned closer to him until their noses nearly touched. Then they were kissing. The action surprised Jonathan, but he didn’t resist. He pressed his lips to hers, felt the softness and the warmth of her mouth. When her tongue flicked out, running over his, Jonathan responded in kind. He let go of the fireplace poker and wrapped his arms around her. She twisted slightly on the bed to accommodate the embrace and pushed her body against his. Electric charges flared throughout his body, sending his nerves to dancing. His thoughts melted, and he let himself get lost in the feeling of her body. For a brief moment, all of the dread and panic of the night slipped away.
But it was only a moment. Though he hated to end the embrace, practical thoughts flooded back, demanding his attention. They had to stay alert.
Jonathan ended the kiss and eased Kirsty away from him. She looked at him with happy confusion and tried to lean in for another kiss, but he held her shoulders. “I should check the door,” he said.
Kirsty nodded her head and scooted back on the bed. At the door Jonathan knelt down and checked the tape. It was holding, but he stayed at the door anyway, pretending to examine the towel and the bench, even shaking one of the bench legs to test its sturdiness.
He needed to collect his thoughts. Only the night before, Kirsty was dating his best friend. Sure, they went the way of Brad and Jen, but it had only been a day, and here she was, making out with him on her mother’s bed. Was he just a source of comfort for her? Did she expect more? He didn’t know, but he was pretty certain she was an emotional car crash right now, and he needed to be careful.
Besides, he didn’t know how he felt about her. Did he feel any genuine attraction to her at all? It certainly wasn’t the kind of thing he felt for Emma, but then that was a fantasy, a dream of love. He couldn’t consider that real because he didn’t even know Emma. He hardly knew Kirsty. Were his feelings simply the result of the night’s confusion?
Jonathan tugged the bench leg again. Then he straightened up. He looked at Kirsty, who had climbed all of the way onto the bed and rested her head on a pillow. Her eyes followed his every move. He walked to the window and ran his hands down the fabric nailed there.
“We’ll hear the glass break if they try to get in that way,” Kirsty said.
“Yeah,” Jonathan replied. “Just checking things out.”
Kirsty lay on her back, looking at him. Her hair cascaded over the pillow and one of her shoulders. His eyes followed the strands to her breasts. His eyes lingered there a bit longer than they should have, and he forced himself to look away.
He returned to the bed and sat on the edge, facing the door.
“I think they’d already have gotten in if they could,” Kirsty said. She reached up and touched Jonathan’s back.
“Probably,” he said, not taking his eyes from the door.
“You know,” Kirsty said. “I was really hoping you’d ask me out that day I saw you at the bookstore. I mean, I liked David, but I really wanted to spend time with you.”
“Really?” Jonathan asked. “Why?”
“We’re a lot alike, I think. We’re both different from everybody else. I used to look at you in Mr. Weaver’s class, and even when he was being a total ass to you, you kept cool. It wasn’t like you didn’t care he was being mean. It was like you were so used to it, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything about it anymore. I know what that’s like.”
“He was a teacher,” Jonathan said. “We’re just kids. There’s nothing we can do, so why bother?”
“You can do a lot,” Kirsty said. “You just didn’t know it. I mean, look at what you did tonight. You saved me. You knew exactly what to do, and we’re safe. If you believed in your own power, you never would have let Mr. Weaver or Toby treat you the way they did.”
“So you’re saying all of this is a good thing?” Jonathan asked with a laugh.
“I think you’re stronger now.”
“Yeah, and it only took a few people getting murdered and discovering my best friend was a psycho to do it.”
“I didn’t know how strong I could be until my father gave my mom and me that speech. It about tore me to pieces to hear all of that vile crap coming out of his mouth, but it was the kind of shock I needed to become someone else. Someone stronger.”
Jonathan turned. Kirsty wore an expression so warm and inviting it sent a cascade of emotion through his rib cage.
“It’s like, everyone wants you to fit into their life, and they’ll pinch and tear and beat you into the shape they want, like you’re just a piece of clay. Most people don’t even know they’re doing it, and most never know it’s being done to them. Once you know who you are and what you want—once you find your power—they can’t hurt you anymore. But until you find it, life is something you have to endure.”
He understood what she was saying. Variations on the thought had teased his mind for years, but he’d never had it so clearly spelled out before. He’d let things happen to him. He’d let other hands mold him, fearing that if he protested, he would be cast out, thrown away. Unfortunately there were so many damn hands molding—teachers, parents, asshole bullies—there was very little of him left.
“So do you think I’ve found my power?” he asked.
