She did not respond.
He jabbed her again with the knife, his teeth gritting together in the first sign of real anger since the ordeal had begun.
“Yes!” she wailed, feeling the cold of the metal mix with the warmth of that small sliver of blood.
Xander glared up at them, Derek’s blood still running down his face as Mike struggled to stay conscious at his side, trying to climb to his feet.
Derek locked eyes with him, smiled, then smelled Cathy’s hair again. “Tell them you want to come with me.”
Cathy sobbed. “I want to come with you.”
“Good. Then we’re all gonna play nice,” he said, giving her a small peck on the nape of her neck as he kicked the gymnasium door open behind him. As the door closed behind them, Derek looked at Xander one last time. “Tootles.”
Xander bolted for the door as soon as it closed, reaching it in seconds and flinging it open again. He paused once, looking from left to right, and was running again before the door closed.
Mike watched his friend go, trying to get up but feeling his brain cry out in agony every time he tried, the altitude making his skull want to implode.
Beside him, Tommy finally made his way to his feet. “What the Christ was that about?”
Mike turned to say something to him, then stopped and forced himself to his feet.
Don Smith sat at his keyboard, his fingers hovering uselessly over it as he stared blankly at the blinking curser. He’d been watching the black line mock him for the last thirty-two minutes, to the point that he could almost hear a robotic laugh every time it disappeared and reappeared.
The house was deathly quiet; there wasn’t even noise coming in from the breeze of the open window a few feet away. Even so, as blocked as he was, even the slightest sound was grating. Even the beating of his heart felt like a drum bellowing out, its vibrations echoing into the base of his skull.
-thunk-
He stopped, turning around in his chair. The rest of the living room was bare, the faded chairs and table casting long shadows on the wooden floors. The patterns in the couch seemed to laugh at him for a moment, the swirls in the dusty-rose colored fabric churning until they were eyes that glared out at him and teeth that dripped with rabid anticipation, waiting for the sweet taste of flesh.
A shiver ran down his back as he turned away from the vacant room and back toward his screen. The notes he had pinned up next to it had been crossed out line by line, each one sounding stupid and insipid upon a second read. None of it had any spark or flare, and that seemed to make to curser’s laugh even louder. The grandfather clock on the wall beside him started to grind at him now, the steady switch of its pendulum tocking back and forth until he ground his fingernails into his palms.
-thunk-
“Fuck off!” he screamed finally, turning around fast to yell at the room. Immediately the frustration poured out of him, leaving him a frail-looking slump swiveling slowly in his chair. He sighed, running his fingers through his hair and scratching his scalp as he tried in vain to make his mind be quiet long enough for him to think.
-thunk!-
“Christ,” he grumbled, getting up from his chair and walking around the corner into the kitchen. He paused, looking around for a moment until he saw the drawstring from the window teetering against the heater. He grabbed at it, holding it in his hand and waited. After a moment of silence, he smiled.
-thunk-
“Dammit,” he cursed, letting the string fall as he walked back into the living room, following the source of the sound. It had been softer that time, which meant he’d been closer to it before he’d moved. It didn’t sound like it was coming from above, but could have come from...
-thunk!-
His vision stopped on the door to the basement, right next to the clock. It was small and looked more like a closet than anything else. He smiled victoriously, grabbing the crystal knob and pulling it open even as he flicked on the switch hidden behind the frame of the clock and started to walk down.
Xander turned the corner from Laird Street, catching the glimmer out of the corner of his eye. He turned swiftly and saw them on the next corner, staying there for just a moment before disappearing out of sight. Fucker’s fast, he thought, taking off after them, cutting through yards and over fences.
He killed them. Not Genblade, not Spider, not Alpha... and not me. He growled, pouring on the steam as his legs thrust like pistons, churning power and propelling him forward as he turned the corner onto Main Street, the blood pumping fiercely in his veins. He still bled from his wrist, leaving a small trail of droplets every few feet behind him. They were as red as aged rose pedals, without the slightest hint of black in them again. He could see Derek and Cathy in front of him now, a good hundred metres ahead and gaining, as they turned down Xander’s street.
For that, I’ll kill him.
“Derek?” Don yelled, brushing some cobwebs aside as he walked down the whining, moaning stairs that led to
