Vance and Rodney stared into one another for several long, tense seconds.
“You…” Vance exhaled. “You’re her grandfather.”
Rodney nodded. “Yes… I am.”
“Does she know?” Vance asked. “Have you told her anything…?”
“No, no… and I tried never to bring up my surname, either,” Rodney said with a chuckle. “I know it’s a common name, but I keep that damn surname under wraps whenever I can. Just because you forgot her original surname doesn’t mean she forgot it. I didn’t want her finding out the whole truth just yet. If she did, then she’d just run and tell you, and well… you weren’t ready to know. You had to break down your own mental barriers before that could happen.”
“Ari was their kid. Alison… and Harley,” Vance breathed, leaning on the desk and running his fingers through his short black hairs. “Harley is her father …”
“No. He isn’t,” Rodney said flatly. “Harley is her sperm-donor . You are her father.”
“She remembers,” Vance uttered, his eyes lighting up like two blue flames. “She remembers—she remembers everything that happened the night Alison died. She remembered all of that. She’s been dreaming about it all her life. God—I knew it. When Bill and I went to look at that house, I knew it—but it seemed too crazy to me at the time. That place—that spot in the living room—it looks exactly like the place she’s seen in her dreams for all these years. She’s described it to me a million times now. That spot—she would’ve seen the kitchen to the left, the front door to the right—and there was broken wood all over that spot with peeling blue paint all over it.”
“Very perceptive, Vance. That’s very perceptive of you. I doubt if any other human being alive could make the mental connections you make. Yes… she’s told me about her recurring dream,” Rodney nodded. “She wasn’t an infant… she was a toddler. Just barely old enough to start forming memories. I bought her that crib, too… and I painted it a calming blue, since blue is the color that tends to ease people’s minds. She was standing in her crib, grabbing the bars and watching the whole thing go down. Honestly, I really don’t have the heart to tell her the whole truth of the matter… not regarding the dream, anyway…”
“You said Harley killed his daughter.”
Rodney nodded again. “Well… I thought he had. I really thought that he must have killed the baby… and I thought that for a very long time… but… I realized the truth the moment Ariella became part of my class this year. She’s got Melinda’s and Alison’s hair… and she’s got my eyes… and, coincidentally, your eyes. I’m guessing Harley took the baby that night… he buried me alive… and he disposed of Alison’s body somewhere. Then… he must’ve left the baby in state’s custody, and then… he fell off the radar forever. That’s how she ended up in foster care… and, by some lucky miracle… ended up with you.”
“This is… this is too wild,” Vance mumbled, shaking his head.
Rodney let out a breathless chuckle. “You just got your entire past and the reality of your present handed to you all at once. I’d be astonished if you weren’t somewhat overwhelmed.”
Vance sighed and raised his head, shooting him a caustic look. “I guess this explains all the little slumber parties she’s been having at your place. I was seriously worried that something a lot more disturbing might’ve been going on.”
Rodney laughed. “Oh, no—she flat-out asked me if I was a pervy old man.”
Vance smirked. “I’ve given her a lot of pep talks about stranger danger.”
“Good. God knows this town has a lot of stranger danger going on right now. Ariella’s right to be careful.”
“Why do you call her by her full first name? Everyone calls her Ari.”
“Because I’m the one who named her. Harley and Alison couldn’t settle on a name, so I just went ahead and did it for them. She’s named after my mother, Ariella. I’m not about to chop that beautiful name in half.”
They both paused and went quiet, glancing at the door again.
Vance glared at the door afar, frowning once more, and now—with his thoughts clearer than they had been ever since his teen years—the gears in his head began turning again, and his mind began working at full capacity.
Many thoughts occurred to him—but he chose to voice the most prudent one of the moment, turning to Rodney and giving him a thoughtful look.
“Let me ask you,” Vance said, leaning forward. “Why are you so afraid that she’s gonna turn out like Harley?”
Rodney sighed deeply, running a hand down his face and shaking his head. “Well, I don’t think she’s gonna turn into a raving serial killer … but, I’m worried she might… do something drastic… given this particular situation.”
“Why?”
“Because, she’s told me… she’s told me more than once now that she wants Zane Jackson to die. Seems like she won’t rest until she makes that happen. I’m trying to draw her back and keep her away from all this, but… she’s just too much like us. Too driven to take action.”
“Heart of a Hunter,” Vance murmured intensely. He nodded, standing fully and straightening out. “I was afraid that’d be your answer.”
Rodney stared at him. “Why…?”
“Because,” Vance said, double-checking his pistol and cracking his neck. “Zane Jackson is presumably in the school tonight—and Ari should be back here by now.”
Rodney took in a slow, dreadful breath, giving him a look of uncertainty. “She wouldn’t…”
“I raised her to be a slayer to her nightmares and face every real-life fear head-on,” Vance said firmly, turning toward the exit. “I know she would.”
Just when he began to march away—Rodney pushed out of his chair and quickly trailed after him, ignoring the pain shooting up and down his side.
“No—just—stay here,” Vance said, raising a hand and motioning at the rolling chair. “You need to stay here and rest. You’re not in any condition to go off looking for—”
“Oh—hush, boy,” Rodney snarked, marching past him and clasping his side. “We don’t have time for this—let’s just go get her. Now .”
Vance sighed and followed suit.
Arkus paced back and forth anxiously inside the house, pressing a fist to his mouth and calling Ariella numerous times, all to no avail.
He let out a slurry of curse words, storming outside and checking the spot behind the shrubs where he always parked, seeing that it was—just as it had been ten minutes ago—still empty.
He soon found himself pacing up and down the side of the road where his truck was earlier, trying to call Vance as well, again with no answer. Growing incredibly frustrated, Arkus decided to call the only other person who might pick up.
After three rings, Jaxson answered the call. “What…?”
“Jax—listen—I need a huge favor right now,” Arkus panted, combing his hairs back and glancing frantically around the darkened street. “I know—I know you don’t wanna be bothered—but it’s an emergency.”
Jaxson was quiet for a moment. “What happened…?”
“I woke up and Ari was gone,” Arkus said urgently. “And my truck’s gone too—I think—I think she went to that damn party. Zane’s supposed to be at that party—and I don’t have any money in my account anymore, so I can’t just call an Uber—I don’t—I dunno what to do! Fuck, fuck, fuck! I dunno what to do! ”
“Okay…” Jaxson uttered. “Okay, just calm down—”
“I CAN’T CALM DOWN!” Arkus bellowed. “I NEED A RIDE—NOW!”
“I’m on my way,” Jaxson assured. “Where are you?”
“Ari’s house. Hurry! ”
“All right. Be there soon.”
Arkus hung up, storming up and down the street and cussing up a storm, ignoring the trick-or-treaters on the sidewalks giving him strange looks in passing.
Before long—a dark SUV coasted around the corner, its headlights washing over him.
Arkus spotted Jaxson in the driver seat, rushing around the truck and ripping the passenger door open before the vehicle even came to a stop. He leaped inside and shut the door, frantically motioning for him to go.
“The party’s in the gym in the main building,” Arkus said breathlessly. “C’mon!”
Jaxson nodded, shifted gears, and drove off with haste.
The drive took about half the time it usually did, Jaxson speeding dangerously with wild turns and several close calls on the road, making numerous trick-or-treaters shriek with fright as the SUV rocketed past.
While the drive was quick, it felt as if time was moving slower than ever, Arkus and Jaxson both grimly silent as they glared through the windshield, their hearts pounding nervously as they pondered on the dangers that hadn’t yet left them.
But the two of them felt a powerful sense of resolve as an anxious surge of adrenaline began ro arise—because now, with Tammy gone forever, they knew for certain they wouldn’t allow a second death to plague the Gates Mill Gate Keepers, no matter how hazardously Jaxson had to drive, and no matter who Arkus had to fight to reach his destination.
By the time they reached the campus, Jaxson turned off the street and prepared to drive down the hill to the left, onto nearest campus road—
A piercing screeching sound made him slam on the brakes—his arm jutting out—narrowly saving Arkus from smashing his head on the glass, as he hadn’t bothered to wear the seatbelt.
“What the bloody fuck …?!” Arkus panted, straightening up and squinting out the windshield.
The two of them stared outside—where a bright green car had just launched onto the road and screeched to a sideways stop in front of them, blocking their path.
Arkus and Jaxson exchanged grave looks.
The doors of the green car popped open, two hooded figures emerging.
Arkus lost his patience in seconds; he jumped out of the truck and stormed around the vehicle, rounding on the hooded figures angrily.
“Oy—you wanna move your fuckin’ car?!” Arkus snapped at them.
“Oh shit,” Jaxson breathed, only just recognizing the car. He leaped out of the driver seat and hurriedly joined by Arkus’s side on the road.
Richard and David stood before them now, both of them hooded and wearing white masks.
Arkus raised his brows and spread his arms open. “Well?! Move your bloody car! ”
“I got a better idea,” David snarled. “Why don’t you fuck off and die, Scotty ?”
“Okay—listen, ya’ fuckin’ bawbag,” Arkus seethed. “Either you’re gonna move your car, or I’m gonna beat your fuckin’ arsses and move it my damn self.”
“Well… let’s see,” Richard said playfully, pulling out a long kitchen knife from his cloak. “Boxer verses killer. Who’s you think’s gonna win?”
Arkus’s temper began to rise dangerously—and now, Jaxson felt the same slow-burning fury, glaring into Richard’s mask with a fierce expression.
“Which one of you killed Tammy?” Jaxson growled.
There was a dark, tense pause.
Richard and David swapped glances, Arkus slowly reaching into his pocket.
“Which one of you,” Jaxson repeated in a low, clear voice, taking a brave step forward. “Fucking—killed— Tammy? ”
Richard and David both cackled with laughter, making Jaxson’s temper hit its boiling point.
“Neither one of us, retard,” Richard mocked. “Fucking Zane did. I killed that old milf in the suburbs. Didn’t have time to play with her like I did Tammy, though. Ooo, Tammy was a lot more fun. M-m- mmm .”
Jaxson jumped forward with his fist cocked back—and Arkus quickly grabbed his arn and stopped him.
“Oh, hey, I forgot to mention—we got a job to do tonight,” David snarked with a laugh. “And it’s killing you faggots dead.”
Richard sprung forward suddenly—Jaxson barely dodging the swing of his blade.
David threw a punch and hit Arkus squarely in the temple—his vision exploding into stars—
Jaxson let out a wail and rushed them both—smashing into them with the force of a cannonball and tackling them to the ground.
Richard grunted as he landed hard on the pavement—scrambling upward and raising his knife above Jaxson’s back—
Arkus kicked Richard’s arm with a powerful strike—and the knife went flying down the hill.
David began to kick and punch fervently—Jaxson scurrying away as Richard lunged at him—punching Jaxson in the throat—
Arkus backed away, watching in shock before reaching into his jacket’s inner pocket—pulling out the revolver Vance had lent to him. He didn’t feel safe leaving it in the glove box after their latest close call—and now, he was glad he’d chosen to keep it on his person.
Gulping and inhaling deeply—Arkus fired a single shot above their heads.
Jaxson staggered backward into the grill of his truck—Richard and David both freezing instantly, their masks torn off and their hairs wild, their eyes locked onto Arkus and his firearm.
Everything fell still.
Arkus wore a grave face, slowly lowering the gun and aligning it with Richard.
“Move,” he panted. “Your… God… damn… car .”
“Fucking pussy,” Richard spat. “You’re not gonna sh—”
BANG.
The bullet ripped through Richard’s arm; he howled in agony and clasped his burning wound, David whipping around and sprinting away at full speed.
Jaxson barreled after them and grasped Richard by the scruff of the cloak—lifting him off the ground and throwing him down the grassy hill in one great heave.
Arkus and Jaxson both watched from the top of the hill overlooking the expansive school grounds—David dashing down the grassy landscape fullspeed, Richard rolling and fumbling awkwardly down the hill behind him.
There was a pause, Arkus and Jaxson regaining their breaths and trading glances.
“I should’ve just fucking killed him,” Jaxson gasped. “I wanted to…”
“I think he was just… trying to get a rise outta you,” Arkus remarked. “If he actually… did that… to Tammy… then, I imagine they would’ve… tracked him down with the DNA, or… found signs of forced—”
“Stop,” Jaxson said, holding up a hand and looking disgustedly mortified. “Don’t…”
“Sorry, sorry…”
The two of them paused again, staring down the hill as Richard regained his footing and grabbed his bleeding arm, howling and lumbering off after David in the distance, both of them vanishing into the night.
“I am sorry, Jax,” Arkus exhaled, meeting his eyes and wiping his face. “Honestly…”
Jaxson returned the stare, managing a flattened half-smile and patting him on the back. Then, he glared down the hill again. “He still got off too easy.”
“Nah. He didn’t,” Arkus grinned, pulling a rectangular object from his pocket. “I got ‘im. Full confession, right here.”
Jaxson gaped at Vance’s old tape recorder in disbelief. “Ho… ly… shit…”
The two of them beamed.
“That is fucking old-school! ” Jaxson exclaimed.
“ I know! ” Arkus cackled.
They traded a high-five, then turned and stared at the green car, which was still blocking their path. So, the two glanced at one another—and then, Jaxson sauntered forward, leaning into the green car and shifting the gear to neutral.
Arkus smirked, instantly understanding his friend’s intentions. He moved toward the car, turning and heading over to the back of the vehicle.
Jaxson joined him—and they both planted their feet to the rear bumper, giving the car one long, hard push. The vehicle steadily began to move forward—and they both nearly lost their balance when the car rolled out from under their feet, coasting down the hill and steadily gaining speed.
Arkus and Jaxson stepped forward, gazing down the hill and watching in fascination as the green car rocketed down the empty campus road, eventually skidding into the grass and smashing into a tree—a loud crunch echoing across the night as the car’s rear end bounced into the air on impact, the windshield and headlights shattering fantastically, the green hood crumpled around the tree’s trunk.
“OOOOOOH!” Arkus and Jaxson both exclaimed, exploding with laughter and high-fiving again, yanking one another into a brotherly hug.
The two of them quickly leaped back into Jaxson’s mother’s SUV and slammed the doors, driving off toward the main building of Gates Mill University without a moment to spare.
For a long while—Ariella merely observed the party going on around her.
Much like the first party she and her friends attended for Halloween, neon lights coasted across the scene, the main lights off and the music blaring. People danced around wildly on the floor of the gym, a few of them dancing on the stage across the enormous room, almost everyone in costume—some cosplaying as anime or video game characters while others dressed more traditionally as witches, vampires, ghosts, and serial killers. It was similar to the lock-in, but far larger, with many more attendees.
Ariella stood against the wall near the snack table, folding her arms and scanning over the crowd in silence, her face blank, her mind racing. She’d spent a bit too much time searching the crowd, and she knew Rodney would worry—but she came here to find someone she hadn’t yet found.
And it wasn’t any of her friends—it was someone who became an enemy, someone Ariella knew to be too proud and cocky to skip this party, even though it would be smarter of him to avoid the place. But, that wasn’t Zane’s style. The arrogant sociopath would most assuredly make an appearance—and when he did, Ariella wanted to watch him, to wait, and to see—to witness firsthand the most justified murder of the notorious Cutthroat Killer.
It didn’t feel right to simply let Cutthroat go about his merry way and pray for a morbid miracle.
The church burned—Julian nearly died—and Tammy was gone forever.
Ariella wanted to see the lights leave Zane’s eyes before she could ever hope to sleep tonight.
More than anything else in the world, right this moment, she needed to know for certain that Zane Jackson would come to a final, definite end. The monstrous traitor deserved to be hunted to extinction for all he’d done—and for whatever else he planned to do.
After a while, the music seemed to slow to a more ominous tune, and the dancers all followed the change of rhythm. Ariella’s eyes drifted up to the stage, focusing on the few people on top of it as the song carried on.
“ On a gatherin’ storm comes a tall handsome man, in a dusty black coat with a red right hand. ”
Her gaze fixated intently on the stage, spotting a familiar streak of pink in someone’s hair. One of the girls on stage—the one nearest the front—was dancing smoothly with a mysterious figure in black. She recognized the girl instantly—and the person dancing with her wore a sleek black cloak, complete with a hood and a slender ghost-faced mask.
Ariella glared at the pair from afar, her eyes burning with a silent fury.
She sighed, glimpsing around and wondering why all these people—many of them podcast listeners—weren’t reacting to Zane and Lucy dancing atop the stage. Then, as she surveyed the partiers closely, she realized why; nearly half the people here were dressed as serial killers from movies, and right now, Zane was one of them. He wasn’t wearing his usual skull mask, making him fairly unrecognizable as of now.
Gnawing her lip and folding her arms, Ariella returned her focus to the stage across the room, watching as Lucy and Zane moved rhythmically along with the music, holding one another close. Then, when she skimmed over the rest of the crowd again, she wondered where Cutthroat must’ve been right now. In all likelihood, he was probably doing the same thing she was, watching and biding his time. He was probably in this very room…
“ He’s a God, he’s a man, he’s a ghost, he’s a guru… they’re whisperin’ his name through this disappearin’ land, but hidden in his coat is a red right hand .”
Ariella inhaled deeply, slowly straightening up and heading for the crowd, strangely feeling no anxiety whatsoever. The thought of Cutthroat lingering nearby didn’t unsettle her in the slightest, much to the contrary of how she’d felt during the beginning of his reign and the start of the Gates Mill Gate Keepers.
The time of fear had long since passed, and after tonight, it could never make a return—not to her friends, nor to her.
Her head was calm, her expression flat, her body moving with ease, as what she did now didn’t feel like a reckless pursuit, a helpless endeavor, or an act of desperation—it felt simply necessary, nothing more or less.
After all, Ariella had mastered life’s domino game now. She’d be the one to push them over, and Zane would be the last one to fall, the one to topple off the table, the one that nobody would ever have to see again.
And as the copycat killer danced smoothly along with his date on the stage, they held one another, moving in rhythm to the music as they did.
Lucy smiled somberly as she held Zane close, gazing into his rubber mask and sighing.
“Is it over…?” she asked softly. “Are you done now? Can we just… can we just be together?”
“We are,” Zane spoke behind the mask, scooting her closer, their middles pressing. “We’re together right now.”
Lucy tilted her head, flashing a faint smirk and gently pulling the mask off his face, meeting his steely blue stare.
“You know what I mean,” she murmured, gingerly resting her forehead against his. “I just… I really just want it all to be over…”
Zane stared into her face, her eyes drifting closed, his observing her closely.
Ariella found herself perfectly in the center of the massive crowd, staring up at the stage where Lucy was peering into Zane dreamlike, his face finally exposed, though nobody around had noticed yet, as his hood still covered the sides of his face, and all of his bright blond hair.
Then, Ariella’s eyes flickered over to the side—far to the corner of the room, past the stage, and near the exit.
With the strangest sense of composure—Ariella simply stared at the figure in the doorway of the exit, the double-doors propped open, the hallway behind him darkened, his eyes glaring out from beneath the brim of his hat as he watched the party with ease.
“ You’ll see him in your nightmares, you’ll see him in your dreams… he’ll appear outta nowhere, but he ain’t what he seems. You’ll see him in your head, on your TV screen …”
Ariella gazed calmly across the room at the Cutthroat Killer, who was leaning on the doorway afar, shrouded in darkness and watching the stage from a distance.
It seemed he’d finally found his target.
“ He’s a ghost, he’s a God, he’s a man, he’s a guru… you’re one microscopic cog in his catastrophic plan, designed and directed by his red right hand .”
“Lucy,” Zane murmured, his breath brushing against her pale, beautiful face. “You really want it to be over…?”
Lucy nodded, her smile widening hopefully.
Zane gave a slow, solemn nod, embracing her tightly and whispering with smooth, definitive conclusion into her ear.
“Then it’s over,” he disclosed. “ Because I don’t need you anymore .”
Just when Lucy prepared to rear back in confusion, Zane tightened his grasp on her, turning her away from the crowd and pulling his weapon from his belt.
Lucy made a croaking squeak—just as the blade plunged into her stomach, her mouth falling open, eyes shining with shock, dismay, and betrayal as she gaped wordlessly into Zane’s unfeeling visage.
Ariella narrowed her eyes up at them, now only able to see Lucy’s back. It looked as if they’d stopped dancing to begin a hushed conversation.
Seconds later, she glanced at the exit again—seeing that the shadowy figure of the Cutthroat Killer had vanished from sight.
“Shh, shh, shh…” Zane breathed as Lucy sputtered weakly, slowly pushing her toward the edge of the stage, doing well to keep their middles from sight. “Here we go…”
In one slow, easeful movement, Zane slid the blade out of her with a sick suctioning noise, Lucy moaning, and blood spotting onto the floor at their feet. He used the bloody blade to unfasten a few of the buttons on her purple corset, holding her still and urging her to keep standing as he pressed the tip of the blade into her skin.
In a quick nasty carving, he sliced the word:
Nothing.
Lucy winced and squeaked with every carve and slice, her balance swaying, blood running down her legs as her energy began to abandon her.
Ariella read over the girl intensely from behind, seeing that her legs were beginning to give a slight shake—and, if she wasn’t imagining it, a trickle of dark liquid was running down her thigh. From this angle, Ariella couldn’t tell what was happening—though now, she felt a terrible suspicion of what it could’ve been.
Zane yanked Lucy into one final hug, laughing and patting her on the back.
Then, his gaze ventured down to the crowd as he stared over Lucy’s shoulder.
Zane and Ariella locked eyes.
Lucy’s life faded, falling limp in Zane’s arms as he and Ariella shared the longest, tensest glare of their lives—wherein it seemed that the music had vanished, the crowd and the neon lights, everything in the world all around them blinking away momentarily, as if the two of them were the only things in existence.
Then, Zane revealed the wickedest smile he’d ever worn—grasping Lucy’s body by the arms and throwing her bloody corpse into the crowd with all his might.
“MOSH PIT!”
Several people gasped and jumped aside; a few of them tried to catch the girl, then quickly reeled back in terror when they realized she was dead. Lucy’s body fell hard onto the dance floor with a loud, red-splattered thump . Her head lay lopsided, eyes gazing upward, both watery and empty, blood saturating her stomach and her legs—her hair wildly flown amok, directly at Ariella’s feet.
Ariella stared down at the girl vacantly.
Everywhere around her—the serenity of a party soon exploded into a feverish and terror-stricken panic. All hell broke loose in an instant—people screeching with fright and leaping back, some wailing and pointing at the body while others fought and accidentally hurt one another in their attempts to scramble away from the stage.
Zane spread his arms and held the bloody knife in plain sight, standing at the edge of the stage and releasing an echoing, cackling laugh into the air, and as people swarmed away from the area and rampantly fought to escape—Ariella broke her gaze from the dead Lucy, glaring up at the killer with an impassionated stare.
Zane lunged his head forward, his blond bangs flying about as he grinned maniacally down at her, snickering breathlessly.
And as everyone nearby fled the scene—the two of them shared another tense stare, Ariella releasing a slow, heated breath, Zane reading her intentions off her face.
His smile just began to wane—and he broke into movement—running off to the side and taking a flying leap off of the stage.
Adrenaline exploded—and Ariella cocked her head and chased after him.
Zane sprinted into the exit and turned, darting down the darkened hallway.
He flew past two classrooms and turned left, where he knew a real exit resided—then skidded to a sudden crooked stop, his jaw dropping in absolute horror.
Just in front of the glass double-doors leading outside—Harley Hunter stood directly before him, his arm outstretched and perched against the wall, standing stock still and blocking Zane’s escape, the Cutthroat Killer’s wicked blue eyes sparkling with a predatory shine beneath the hat’s wide brim.
Zane scurried backward, inhaling sharply and breaking into another run—dashing down the dark hallway at top speed.
Ariella entered the hallway just in time to see Harley emerge from the left hall, speed-walking after Zane down the opposite way.
As the Cutthroat Killer strode briskly after his target, his expression darkened with severity once more, his arm reaching out to the side—dragging his toothy blade across the wall and creating a long, terrible scratching noise like nails upon a chalkboard.
The noise was menacing—and Zane erupted in a panic as the awful sound met his ears, running as fast as humanly possible toward the end of the hall.
Ariella instantly hesitated, staring after them for a moment, then glanced back, briefly reconsidering her plans—but deciding against it. She inhaled deeply, found her resolve again, and headed off, following in the Cutthroat Killer’s wake.
Zane rocketed to the end of the hall and grabbed the final doorknob—ripping the metal door open and scuddling up the stairway inside.
Harley entered the doorway and climbed the stairs after him.
Seconds later, Ariella peeked into the blackened stairway, gazing upward before following suit.
This stairway was unlike any other in the school; it was narrow and dingy, and didn’t seem to lead anywhere. Zane frantically scrambled up five stories before he found the way out—busting the door open and staggering outside. He glanced around, panting and moving quickly, finding himself under the night sky as the cool autumn breeze coasted by. He then headed across the wide clearing, striding along the rooftop of the school, then wheeling around to face his pursuer.
Harley emerged from the darkness of the doorway, glaring across the rooftop at his prey.
Zane met his eyes, another mad smile crawling across his face. He flipped his blade midair and caught it, tightening his grasp on it and tilting his head tauntingly at Harley.
“Mano-a-mano, big man,” Zane breathed with a laugh. “Oh man—oooh man —some fuckin’ final showdown shit, right here!”
“Oh… don’t think so highly of yourself,” Harley growled in a low, throaty rasp, gliding forward with his black coat shifting at his heels. “I wouldn’t call it a showdown unless I was facing something I’d call an equal .”
Zane blew his bangs from his face, his smile devolving into a hardened, wicked frown. “I am legendary , motherfucker. Don’t underestimate me .”
The tension was unparalleled between the two as the Cutthroat Killer slowly strode closer, primed with a justified hatred that guided his every thought and movement—and now, as he set his furious gaze onto his most hated target, his heart hammered with a hot fury that put his every past slaughter to shame.
After the grand realization came to him many weeks ago—when he realized just who Ariella was—he spent months watching over her, looming in the shadows of his long lost daughter, observing every threat near her and killing all those who crossed her—and now, the subhuman parasite across the roof stood mockingly before him, smirking and treating this time of retribution like nothing more than a stupid, childish game.
He was the worst—the absolute worst predator ever to appear in Ariella’s life—and the Cutthroat Killer made a solid vow as he ventured near.
Zane Jackson would die, here and now.
“Underestimated you… no,” Harley glowered. “Believe me… my only thoughts of you are just of watching you die .”
Ariella arrived on the rooftop just in time to see the Cutthroat Killer lunge—grabbing at Zane and raising his branch-saw-Zane jerking and twisting back before slicing at Harley’s arm.
Harley released him—and Zane dove at him with his knife raised.
The Cutthroat Killer swiftly moved to the side—then slashed at Zane’s stomach—ripping into his side.
Ariella watched, wind shifting her bangs aside, her demeanor strangely calm, her eyes icy as she stood still and merely observed.
It was during this moment when Vance and Rodney approached the main entrance of the gym—both of them alarmed to see massive crowds of people rushing out of the building, many of them screaming and crying as the music continued to blare. They traded eyes before resuming their pace, fighting against the crowd and marching into the scene of the party.
The gym was in ruins, tables knocked over, dance floor empty, aside from the dead girl directly across the room.
Vance strided across the gym, glaring down at Lucy’s body before glimpsing up and scanning over the rest of the area. Rodney clasped his mouth at the sight of Lucy, Vance’s eyes darting from wall to wall and corner to corner—until he spotted the nearest exit to the darkened hall.
Both of them followed Ariella’s trail as the battle on the rooftop raged on.
Zane and Harley missed a few swipes—throwing punches and slicing at one another.
Something compelled her to move forward, and Ariella slowly approached the two of them, watching closely as the killers fought.
Then—Zane’s blade ripped across Harley’s right hand—jerking his arm to the side and making his weapon fly from his grasp.
The branch-saw soared through the air and clattered onto the surface of the rooftop—sliding away and skidding to a stop, just a few feet away from Ariella.
Vance gazed down the hallway, his eyes narrowing at the long slice mark left on the wall. The crooked slice mark led directly to the open door at the end of the hallway—so Vance took a breath and rushed toward it, quickly beckoning Rodney to follow.
They raced up the stairway as fast as they could, Rodney trying his damnedest to ignore the pain spiraling up and down him as they did.
Harley moved backward, now unarmed, distancing himself from Zane and stepping toward the center of the roof.
Zane grinned nastily from ear to ear, advancing on him and holding his knife upright.
Ariella gently bent down, slowly grasping the branch-saw and standing fully upright again, eerily tranquil as her eyes locked onto Zane.
Arkus and Jaxson’s eyes widened the moment they pulled to a stop in the parking lot—every party attendee flooding away from the main building in waves. The two leaped out of the SUV and hurried toward the nearest entrance—a side entrance that was closer than the overcrowded parking lot. As they rushed toward the side door, the music bellowing from the gym soon caught their ears from a distance.
“ You should have known… the price of e-evil… and it hurts to know, that you belong he-ere… no one to call… everybody to fe-ear… your tragic fate is lookin’ so clear, yeeeah… ooooooh, it’s your fuckin’ nightmare! ”
Ariella stared down at the weapon in her hands, the curved, toothy blade heavy with rust and dark stains, a device repurposed for killing the deserving.
Then, her eyes ventured upward once more—homing in on Zane and following his every move.
Harley took several steps off to the side—which cleared her the very path she wanted.
Ariella strode forward with ease, carrying the branch-saw by her side and leering into Zane, her body guided by no thought or fear—only by a hunter’s resolve.
Zane perked up, spotting her and stopping instantly. After a split second, he breathed out an insane little laugh, cocking his head at her and raising his knife, motioning playfully for her to approach closer.
Harley glimpsed between them, Ariella marching past the Cutthroat Killer without a glance.
Zane leaped forward and sliced—Ariella barely jerking back in time—then he threw a punch, and Ariella shot the blade out—ripping his hand open and making him shriek.
Zane’s face twisted in fury—he jumped forward and raised his knife—
Ariella reeled back—narrowly dodging his swing—then she ducked down and launched upward—bashing the butt of the branch-saw squarely into his face.
Zane grunted and doubled back—his eyes snapping shut—and Ariella bared her teeth and lunged, whipping her weapon to the side and slicing his arm—slinging the bloody blade out of his grasp.
The knife went flying—and the adrenaline coursing through her soon evolved to euphoria as Vance’s lessons and Harley’s weapon guided her ever closer to victory.
Vance and Rodney hurried out of the doorway just when Zane became disarmed, staring across the rooftop in awe.
Arkus and Jaxson raced toward the side of the building, the music echoing louder.
Zane’s eyes widened as she advanced on him, and he scurried backward, his knife now lying far from his reach.
Ariella moved swiftly forward and grasped him by the scruff—shoving him farther back and pushing him dangerously toward the edge, her hand locked onto him viselike, her arm possessed with a strength it never carried before as he tripped in his footing—continuing to guide him to the edge by force, despite him resisting and struggling against her.
“Stop… stop …!” Zane gasped in horror, his shoes dragging along the roof’s surface in crooked steps and stumbles.
He fought to stop moving—though Ariella continued forcing him onward.
“Stop… Ari …!”
Zane’s expression went frantic, grabbing her arm and gasping, as he felt himself tottering frightfully over the ledge behind him. The back of Zane’s foot hovered over the edge of the building now—Ariella gripping him tight and holding the weapon to his neck, the teeth of the blade pressed firmly to his throat.
“ You should have known… the price of e-evil… and it hurts to know, that you belong he-ere… no one to call… everybody to fe-ear… your tragic fate is lookin’ so clear, yeeeah… ooooooh, it’s your fuckin’ nightmare! ”
Zane’s eyes bled pitifully into hers, no longer proud, the apathy in his gaze suddenly gone without a trace—eyes shining a bright, terrified blue, a silent plea, subtly shaking his head and begging her for mercy.
Ariella glared into him with a coldness that had never belonged to her before, as if she’d stolen the icy, unfeeling apathy from his very soul.
Then—with every ounce of her power—Ariella gritted her teeth and dragged the saw hard across his neck in a deep, sickening slice.
The branch-saw split and frayed his skin—his eyes tearing wide open as blood spouted out of his throat and poured profusely down his front, body shaking, mouth trembling as he choked and sputtered in panic.
Ariella lowered the weapon and released his collar, giving him a final, gentle shove—and Zane descended backward with morbid grace, vanishing over the edge of the rooftop.
Vance, Harley, and Rodney observed in astonishment as Ariella stood at the edge, leaning over and watching with a vacant expression as Zane fell from the roof, body soaring limply through the air as he plummeted toward the ground far below.
SMASH.
A revolting splat collided with the pavement—the sounds of snapping bones penetrating the air.
Arkus and Jaxson scrambled to a stop and gaped at the body in awe—Zane’s twisted and mangled corpse landing only a few yards away from them, sprawled on the pavement just beside the main building, blood splattered grotesquely all around him and slowly seeping into the cracks of the concrete.
They both stared into the twisted cadaver for mere seconds, though the seconds seemed to stretch on for decades. Arkus’s face fell grim and stoic, Jaxson scowling and looking disgusted, both of them heaving numerous heavy breaths.
“Well…” Arkus murmured darkly, his eyes transfixed on the broken body of Zane. “What happened to Tammy… he can’t… do that to anyone else now.”
Jaxson tore his eyes from the horrific sight, looking to Arkus and feeling the strangest, darkest, and most peculiar sense of reassurance he ever had.
Arkus, feeling the same, turned and met his eyes, both of them sharing a serious stare before they upturned their heads—gazing up at the rooftop below the night sky, though neither of them were able to make out the figure standing far above them.
And on the top of the roof—where the longest, tensest, and gravest silence in existence came to be—Ariella merely gazed onto the world below, releasing a smooth, calming breath and ignoring the rush of shock, adrenaline, and nausea coursing all throughout her, as her mind was now—finally—at ease.
The years under Vance Callaghan’s care hadn’t gone to waste. So many days and nights, she spent training for this moment, mustering the nerve to finally ensure that she would never feel helpless and afraid again, never be a victim again—countless days at the jujitsu dojo, so much fighting, so much sparring—so many afternoons in the backyard with Vance, practicing her fighting moves and quickening each one. So many nights, she awoke in a fright, crying and desperate to escape her delusions of Eliza Grant and her predatory, demonic presence—so many of those nights with Vance at her bedside, coaching her, instructing her to learn how to control her dreams, to fight back, and to slay the demons of her nightmares. Before too long, Ariella began to sleep soundly at night, and she smiled more in the day—sleeping peacefully for years to follow as she magically seized control of her dreams, turning the gun onto Eliza and exterminating her fears, grinning each time she was able to spar and practice fighting, beaming each time she won a match in her dojo, growing into a fighter, rather than a victim—and a hunter, rather than prey.
The monsters are real, but they’re not in your dreams , Vance often told her.
So much time, she spent dwelling on that odd phrase, trying to understand it—but here and now, it all suddenly made sense. That single, powerful lesson overtook her with the serene inhalation of the sweet autumn air, and in the aftermath of her grand and morbid victory, it sank into her with full understanding. The world was simply full of them, full of terrible people and wicked predators, and it seemed that she and her family all were destined to fight them to the end.
Vance grasped his gun tightly, he and Rodney both hovering just outside the doorway, staring at Ariella in the distance with shocked and disturbed visages.
Harley still stood near the center of the rooftop, his attention dominated solely by the daughter he never knew. He gazed into Ariella from behind, sighing heavily—then slowly beginning to approach her.
“No, no, no …” Rodney gasped urgently—his heart jolting as he shoved past Vance, rushing toward Ariella as fast as he possibly could.
Ariella finally turned around, facing the killer—and Rodney planted himself firmly in front of her as a human shield, grasping her arms and securing her behind him, leering into Harley with an expression warped with disdain.
“Don’t you dare, Harley— don’t you dare! ” Rodney hissed through clenched teeth, shooting the Cutthroat Killer a warning glare.
Yet another deep, grim silence loomed over the atmosphere, Rodney fuming into his son, hands held behind him and gripping his granddaughter viselike. Ariella stared over his shoulder at the Cutthroat Killer, Vance’s gun trained firmly on Harley as he took a brisk step forward.
Harley’s attention was far from his father. His eyes were fixed onto Ariella’s for a long, profound moment, slowly outstretching his arm and gently waving his fingers, motioning for the object she held.
Ariella returned his gaze, holding his weapon by her side and glimpsing down at it. Then, she shot the Cutthroat Killer an untrusting sort of look.
Harley merely nodded at the ledge of the rooftop, responding with a grave, solemn stare.
Ariella swallowed, reading his face, examining the expression of of the most infamous killer of her time, a strange, almost empathetic expression she hardly thought a serial killer capable of. The Cutthroat Killer’s serene blue eyes even seemed to rival her own, though his face was more slender, his composure noticeably manufactured, his gaze lost and strange, distant and broken in a way no sane man’s could’ve been. But, nevertheless, Ariella’s eyes seemed entranced in his, almost feeling him, inhaling heavily and slowly understanding.
She hadn’t the faintest clue how, but she understood his sentiment in an instant—and she gently raised her arm, preparing to hand the weapon back to him.
“Don’t… don’t …!” Rodney whispered back at her.
“It’s okay,” Ariella assured, reaching around her grandfather and handing the branch-saw off to the Cutthroat Killer.
Just when Harley took hold of his weapon again, Ariella slowly moved out from behind Rodney, trying to step in front of him, but he kept pushing her back.
Then, she realized that her protective precaution wasn’t necessary—because Harley seemed to have lost all interest in his father now.
Everyone watched as the Cutthroat Killer took a few steps back from Rodney and Ariella. He looked down and grasped the handle of his weapon tightly, opening and closing his hand around it thrice, then tossing it from hand to hand, thoroughly removing any trace of fingerprints aside from his own.
Ariella and Rodney both observed in silence, eyeing the killer warily as sirens began to echo distantly across the night.
Harley finished gliding his hand up and down his weapon, releasing a conclusive, definitive breath, and—at last—turning to face Vance Callaghan.
“Well… here we all are,” Harley exhaled, stepping toward him. “And look at you now… wholly battle born.”
Vance gulped painfully, hardening his expression and keeping his pistol aligned with Harley’s skull. “It’s over.”
“Oh… I know,” Harley said with a mild nod.
Then, he gave Vance a firm glare, motioning over to the edge of the rooftop with his saw.
“But… just for the record,” Harley added. “ I’m the one who killed Zane Jackson.”
Vance glared intensely into him, giving a slow nod in response. “Sure you are. Saw it with my own eyes. I think we all did.”
Harley smirked. “Hey, look at that… something we agree on.”
“Drop your weapon,” Vance ordered, jabbing his gun at the ground. “Give it up. I can hear the cops from every direction now. Surrender.”
“Oh… no… I’m not surrendering,” Harley rumbled, cocking his head. “I’m gonna die either way… and I made up my mind a long damn time ago that I didn’t care.”
“ Harley ,” Vance yelled warningly, adjusting his grasp. “Just— just get on the damn ground! ”
“Why do you even wanna take me alive?” Harley asked, tilting his head again and taking another small step forward. “I thought it was your job to take out the trash, hound dog . That’s what they call you now, right? Hound dog.”
Vance glared at him, his face strewn with conflict, his finger grazing the trigger.
Rodney gripped Ariella’s arm, both of them watching in anxious silence.
The killer cocked his head once more, narrowing his eyes at Vance and reading his expression.
“Oh… you remember,” Harley realized. “You remember everything now.”
Vance inhaled a deep, stressed breath, saying nothing. If the killer was practically anyone else, he knew for certain he would’ve opened fire without hesitation—but now, his finger felt hesitant to pull the trigger back, every fiber of his being screaming for it not to.
“I only have… one thing to say to you,” Harley said in a wispy, ominous voice, raising his finger and pointing over toward Ariella, his eyes still locked with Vance’s. “Don’t ever let her turn out like us.”
Vance’s muscles tensed, his glare searing as it burned into Harley’s. “You don’t get to say that to me. I’m the one who raised her. Not you.”
Harley scoffed out a laugh. “Then don’t let her become a fucking monster , Vance… because God knows that’s what we both did.”
There was another grave pause in the air.
“But…” Harley sighed. “I guess…”
He hesitated, blowing a strand of his messy black hairs from his face and giving Vance a long, strange stare, revealing a slow, conclusive half-smile.
“I am the worse one now.”
Then—just as Vance dreaded—Harley made a wide step closer, marching across the rooftop without care.
“Don’t… move! ” Vance growled.
Harley continued his stride forward, no hesitation, strolling toward his brother without a hint of fear in his eyes.
“I’ve been a dead man walking for a long damn time,” the killer uttered with serpentine rasp.
“ Harley …!” Vance hollered with a final hesitation.
Harley came closer, not once slowing or stopping.
He slowly raised his arm, held the branch-saw high, and flashed a manic smirk as he drew dangerously near.
“Show me what the Navy SEALs can do,” Harley glowered. “ Fighter-boy .”
Just as the Cutthroat Killer lunged forward and swung—Vance opened fire.
Rodney grasped Ariella on instinct and hugged her head close to his chest—shielding her from the sight of the killer’s execution—Vance hammering the trigger, his expression stricken with conflicted severity as muzzle flashes illuminated the night, blasting gunshots echoing across the scene and bullets ripping and tearing through Harley Hunter relentlessly, penetrating his skull and making him stagger and crumble to the ground.
Police swarmed the scene and flooded throughout the school—and just after the Cutthroat Killer finally fell dead on the rooftop, and just when the deafening gunshots ceased—Detective Lumis appeared behind Vance, marching on-scene with several police following in his wake.
The cops emerged from the doorway, some drawing their guns, but many of them surveyed the scene and quickly understood that the battle was over.
Vance let out a long, shaking breath, lowering his gun clasping his eyes shut.
Lumis stood beside him, examining him closely before turning his attention to the dead Cutthroat Killer, the police ushering everyone back and guiding Rodney and Ariella away from the grisly scene.
And as they did—Ariella found herself distant from the sights and sounds all around her, blind to the movements of the police and the sirens on the night air, hardly able to hear the voices all around—as none of them mattered. Her head went light, her body calm, and her breaths smooth and serene, as if she was meandering through the aftermath of a vivid dream, a deeper one than ever before. No consequences mattered, no pain or pleasure, not the bereavement for her friends nor the fear of her enemies, as neither feeling seemed to exist now.
All that mattered now was the great, definitive finality that had taken over her entire being—because now, she knew for certain she would never be a victim again, nor would any of her loved ones, as all the threats to them were now gone, and many battles, old and new—on this grave Hallow’s Eve—had finally come to a daunting and tiresome end.