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  “Yes, I have been on them most of my life, and I haven’t gotten well yet. After years and years of taking them, I haven’t gotten any better. As a matter of fact, lately I’ve been getting worse, even after Dr. Cross increased my dosage.” Lexa reached over and took her brother by the hand. “Alex and I want to try something new. Something different that follows my new philosophy.”

  Claude put forth the question, “And what is this new philosophy of yours?”

  “To stop looking back, like Cross always had me do, and start looking forward, to my future.”

  “I…we don’t have a problem with this new philosophy of yours. It’s other things that we have questions about.”

  “Other things?” Lexa asked. “What other things?”

  “Like how will you survive out there, Lexa? You’ve never, ever lived on your own.”

  “Yes, I know, but it’s time I learn. Besides, I’ll have Alex there with me.” Lexa looked confidently at her twin. “As long as we’re together, no one can stop us.”

  “You still have yet to answer my question, Lexa.”

  “What question are you referring to?”

  “The question of how will you survive out there in the world.”

  “There’s nothing to worry about. Alex and I have it all planned out.”

  “It doesn’t sound like that to me,” Claude responded. “It doesn’t sound like there’s any plan beyond your leaving this house. I mean seriously, how are you going to go about filling life’s basic needs? Food, clothes, shelter, money…”

  “I’m going to be working with Spencer Storm as a member of his staff.”

  Claude scoffed. “Are you telling me this future of yours is banked on a job you don’t even have yet?”

  “That job is as good as mine. Senator Storm said it will be there waiting for me.”

  Claude ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “I think you’re being childish.”

  “So you think my dream is childish, huh?”

  “No, not your dream. It’s the way you intend on realizing your dream that is childish, very much so.”

  Amanda walked up behind her husband. “Now sweetie, you heard what your uncle said. We don’t think your dreams are childish. But maybe, just maybe, they’re a little bit out of your reach right now.”

  “Oh, is that what you think, puddin’?”

  Amanda was knocked a little off balance by Lexa’s mockery. After a few seconds, she gathered herself and went on. “I love you with all of my heart. I have from the first moment you came to live with us all those years ago. Do you know that I pray every night that you find health and happiness, my darling Lexa?”

  “You say prayers for me every night?”

  Isn’t that something. Well, Auntie, if you’ve been praying for me all this time and still nothing’s happened, I’d say it was time to find another prayer to pray because your prayers aren’t working. If something doesn’t work, you get rid of it.

  “Yes, sweetie. And I think you should start praying too, Lexa.” Her niece gave her a cockeyed look. “Then maybe God will cure you of all your problems.”

  “Really, Aunt Amanda? It’s really that easy?”

  “Oh shit,” Alex muttered under his breath. “Here we go again.”

  “Yes, I do. In fact, that might be what God’s waiting for, for you to pray to Him before He will heal you.”

  “So…all I have to do is pray, and your Lord will deliver healing unto me?”

  “He’s the Lord of all of us, Lexa,” Amanda explained with the patience of the faithful. “And yes, He will.”

  “Cool. Does the Lord deliver these healings in thirty minutes or less or the healing’s free, like pizza?”

  Amanda’s heart sank. “Lexa, how dare you disrespect the Lord!”

  “Why shouldn’t I?” Lexa pressed. “After all, your Lord’s disrespected me my whole goddamned life.”

  Frustrated beyond belief, Amanda shrieked, “Why do you keep saying your Lord?”

  What can I say to hurt auntie the most? Lexa cracked a wicked grin. “Because maybe I worship someone else as God.”

  The dire need to save her niece outweighing the shock of what she’d just heard provided Amanda the fortitude to persevere. “Lexa Rhodes!” she screamed. “Those words you spoke, whether true or not, could damn your soul to Hell!”

  “Don’t you two get it? I’m already there. That is, I was until Alex pulled me out.”

  In an attempt to defuse the bomb preparing to explode in their midst, Claude started off calm and soft-spoken. “Lexa, you know and I know that this isn’t you, just like that wasn’t you the other day. Now I want you to tell me who it is that put you up to this behavior. Was it Alex? It’s okay, you can tell us.”

  Lexa and Alex shared the same look of resentment for their uncle’s question. “Do you really want to know, Uncle?”

  “Yes, Lexa,” Claude responded. “Yes, I do.”

  “Okay, Uncle Claude, I’ll tell you, right after you tell me why you both are so dead set against me leaving and having a life like everyone else?” Lexa got up into Claude’s face. “Tell me the truth for once in your miserable fuckin’ life!”

  With that, Claude’s patience and understanding abandoned him, and the floodgates that for years and years had been holding back untold truths sprung wide open. “Because you’ll never be like everyone else, Lexa!” he yelled. “You’re too messed up in the head to ever be!”

  Amanda, stunned and beside herself, wailed, “Please, Claude! No…”

  Claude took a brief moment to calm himself. Then in a lower voice said to his stunned niece, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s not your fault, it never has been. But you demanded the truth, so here it is. You never have been like everyone else, and you never will be.” Alex sat like a volcano building pressure as his sister’s world crumbled around her. “Look, sweetheart, you may think you’re okay now,” Claude said kindly, “but there’s years of stuff you don’t seem to remember. Stuff that’ll prevent you from ever being normal, stuff that could have forced you to grow up in an institution. And if it wasn’t for Dr. Cross, you probably would have.” Claude glanced at his wife.

  Cross? If it wasn’t for us, she would have.

  “And all this stuff, most of it anyway, involves the deaths of your parents. Some of the…the trouble did start before their deaths, but that centered around Alex.” Claude sighed deeply. “Dr. Cross wishes to have one last session and your aunt and I agree.”

  Without any warning, the bitter shock of hearing her husband say what he’d said to their niece caused Amanda to collapse in a heap upon the bedroom floor.

  “Amanda!” Claude stood helplessly over his wife as she lay on the floor shaking and speaking in tongues.

  With her armor destroyed by the onslaught of Claude’s brutally honest words, Lexa fell weeping upon her bed in utter defeat. Alex’s psyche erupted with orange molten hot lava as he watched tears pour down his twin sister’s face. He jumped up off the bed, and with a voice deepened by his fury, yelled into his uncle’s face, “You’ve gone too far, asshole. Now both of you old fucks have to deal with me!”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-SIX

  HIDE AND SEEK

  The darkened streets of the quiet neighborhoods surrounding the campus were being kept awake by sirens howling between spinning red and blue lights. Captain Styles had patrol units sweeping the last known whereabouts of her newly established main suspect.

  Hidden inside a stench-filled, maggot breeding trash dumpster behind a fast food restaurant, CK peeked out from space under the dumpster’s lid. Sitting amidst the rotten garbage he tried to sort through the myriad of questions bouncing around inside his brain.

  What the fuck happened? What the hell was Lexa talking about? And what was that shit on my computer?

  The grim reality of his situation forced CK to start questioning himself.

  I couldn’t have done anything like that to my friends, could I? How could I possibly murde
r my best friends and not remember? Have I gone insane and haven’t realized it yet? Are the insane capable of knowing they’re insane?

  Realizing he wouldn’t discover the answers to those questions anytime soon, he tried to figure out his next move.

  What am I gonna do? What are my options? Should I just call Styles and turn myself in?

  His thoughts turned from self-preservation to selfless protection.

  What about Lexa? The real killer might go after her next. Who’s gonna watch over her if everyone’s out looking for me?

  ***

  Captain Styles sat restlessly behind her desk coordinating the manhunt for CK. Atop her desk were two landlines, a laptop computer, two cell phones, and three police radios, one laying on the desk and two sitting on chargers. One of the landlines had been ringing for over a couple of minutes.

  “Styles,” she answered curtly. After listening a moment she said, “I don’t give a damn about any double-shift horseshit. I need every available badge out there combing those fucking streets for that maniac, and that includes you too, Sanchez. You just stay out there and keep your eyes open, and if I catch your fat ass back here any time before dawn, I’ll cook it up and serve it to you for breakfast!” She slammed down the receiver.

  Lieutenant Sternn, a portly man in his mid-forties, approached Styles’s desk with a steaming hot cup of coffee in his hand. “Here you go, Cap,” he said, handing her the cup.

  “Thanks.” Styles accepted the cup and took a big drink. She set down the cup and picked up the picture of CK she had enlarged from his university identification card, held it up close in front of her face, and examined his eyes. After a long moment, she motioned to Sternn. “What do you see in these eyes? Do you see the soul of a bloodthirsty maniac?”

  After a quick inspection, Sternn said, “Nope, not even close. What do you see, Cap?”

  Styles studied the photo once again. “I dunno, the jury’s still out on that one.”

  ***

  CK was jolted awake by a large rat climbing up his leg.

  “Son-of-a-bitch!” he yelled, brushing it off in hysterical girlish fashion. He hunkered down into a corner for a few minutes to compose himself. The brazen rodent started to lure his attention.

  “So, what are you up to?” CK asked aloud. The rat stared at him for a time. When sensing it was safe, it moved closer, sat up on its haunches, and sniffed toward CK’s crouched legs.

  What? Something down there you want?

  CK shifted his legs and saw a half-rotten hamburger patty wedged between two moldy buns. “Is this what you’re after?” Like it understood CK’s question, the rat stretched upward and rubbed its front paws together. “Here, dinner’s on me tonight.” He tossed the patty in front of the eagerly awaiting vermin. The rodent grabbed the hamburger patty with its mouth and dragged it toward the other side of the stench-filled dumpster, where a smaller female rat was patiently waiting. The sight made CK laugh. “Looks like your date turned out a lot better than mine did.”

  He chuckled, took a long, calming breath, and closed his eyes.

  ***

  Captain Styles sat in the passenger’s seat of an unmarked unit while Lieutenant Sternn piloted the driver’s seat.

  “I was wondering how long it would take before you’d go stir-crazy and hit the streets,” Sternn cracked.

  “Running around out there somewhere is a vicious psychopath named Kane with a penchant for choosing his victims from his wannabe girlfriend’s friends list.”

  Confusion squatted upon Sternn’s face. “A pen what?”

  “A penchant. Like having a hard-on for.”

  “Oh, gotcha, Cap. So, what’s up with Kane? What’s the point of killing all of his friend’s other friends?”

  “I don’t know for sure—yet.”

  “Maybe he’s pissed off at her for some reason and made up his mind that she doesn’t deserve to have any friends. What do you think, Cap?”

  “Maybe,” Styles said. Or he could be doing it so he can have her all to himself and be her only friend.

  ***

  CK opened his eyes and found himself wearing a dark and wrinkled groom’s tuxedo. He was standing before a dirty altar in an oddly decorated church. The strange décor was wedding themed, but instead of having a joyous feel to it, it had a mournful one. Next to him stood his best man, Bastian, who was holding a large pewter flask in his hand. “Wanna snort?”

  “No, thanks,” CK whispered.

  “Maybe not now, but you will soon.” Bastian unscrewed the cap and started chugging down the entire contents of the flask.

  CK eyed the other members of the Magnificent Seven smiling up at him from the front pew on the groom’s side of the church. He smiled back at them, then tilted his head toward his best man. “Bastian?”

  After letting out a muffled belch, Bastian answered, “Yeah?”

  “How the hell did I get here, and what the hell’s going on?”

  Bastian finished off the flask and stowed it into his back pocket. “What do ya think’s going on, you moron? You’re marrying Lexa.”

  When CK’s brain finished processing Bastian’s words, a wide grin stretched across his face.

  Is this real? Is this my dream coming true?

  Even though everything unfolding around him was in contradiction with what he knew as reality, CK chose to go for broke.

  “You better get back on the clock, Mr. Kane,” Bastian advised the groom as the organist started playing a dark and disturbing wedding march. “Because here comes the bride.”

  Lexa…

  CK turned to see the love of his life walking up the aisle toward him. She was wearing a dingy, off-white wedding dress, with a train that was dragging over rotten rose petals being tossed in front of her by a pair of gothic flower girls. Between black-nailed fingers, she held a bouquet of withered, long-stemmed roses, and a grayish veil hid her face. CK’s initial feeling of warm elation gradually gave way to one of nauseated fear as his bride-to-be drew closer and closer. He looked at Bastian, who winked, made a hole with his left forefinger and thumb, and rapidly slid his right forefinger in and out of that hole.

  “Congrats, CK,” Kimber called out from the front pew. CK whirled around in time to see her head tilt down, then fall into her lap and start to sizzle, as if it was inside a deep fryer. Sitting next to Kimber was Paige, who winked at the groom just before a noose around her neck yanked her upward, suspending her twitching body over the pew. When Lexa reached the steps leading up to the altar, Palmer snapped CK a lazy salute and burst into flames, burning beyond recognition.

  As the object of his affection drew dangerously close, CK’s eyes fell upon Cassie blindly waving to him as an unseen blade sliced her flesh and bone like a butcher cutting meat. All the horrid pictures of his dead friends, the ones he saw on his computer, were now materializing in the pew in front of him.

  What the hell is happening to me?

  As CK stood trembling in abject terror from the sights he had seen, Lexa walked up and joined him in front of the altar. He was unable to make out her face from behind the veil.

  “Lexa,” he gasped. “My God, what is happening?”

  “Your God?” Lexa asked from behind her soiled veil. “Your God has nothing to do with any of this, my love.”

  “Lexa,” CK begged, “please tell me what is going on!”

  “Now,” said Lexa, “let me show you my god.” She raised her arm and pointed in front of them. CK slowly turned toward the altar and cast his frightened eyes upon a tall, hooded priest standing in front of them with a large, blood-stained bible in his gloved hands. The priest motioned to Lexa, who respectfully bowed her head to him. He turned his hooded head to CK, motioned once more, and opened the bible to reveal a large, bloody hunting knife concealed within the book’s hollowed-out pages. The hooded priest took out the knife and held it upward with the utmost reverence.

  As CK struggled desperately to hold onto what little reason he had left, Lexa asked, “Are you
ready, my darling? Are you ready to lay your eyes upon your blushing bride-to-be?”

  Through eyes reddened and blurred with tears, he attempted to bring into focus her veil-covered face. With shaking hands, CK reached over to lift up Lexa’s veil. The moment his fingers came into contact with the fabric, she dropped her bouquet of dead flowers to the floor and CK snatched his hands away. At that moment, the hooded priest lowered the knife down to his chest, thrusting it forward into the space between the bride and groom. The hooded priest then cast his faceless gaze between Lexa and CK, as if he was offering the knife first to one and then to the other.

  “No,” CK told the hooded priest. “My choice is no.” He reached for Lexa’s hand. “C’mon, let’s get the hell outta here.”

  The hooded priest locked his gaze on Lexa, who stared down at the bloodstained blade. From behind her filth-covered veil, she warily moved her hand toward the deadly instrument.

  “No, Lexa,” CK implored his bride-to-be. “I chose not to. You can too.”

  Lexa ran her fingers along the razor-edge of the knife, lifted up her veil, and exposed her beautiful, tear-drenched face. “Some things are chosen for us,” she said. After the priest handed Lexa the knife, he reached up to pull back his hood.

  ***

  CK startled awake inside the garbage dumpster, glancing around wildly in the darkness until the rotten stench reminded him where he was. After a few moments, he settled himself down and found a maggot-free place to squat down once again. His tired eyes scoured the dumpster until they spotted the rat and his mate, who had finished their meal and were trying to find a place to bed down for what was left of the night.

  “Well, that settles it, dude,” CK said amiably to the rat. “I must be going insane. Or maybe I’ve already arrived, but don’t know it just yet.”

  CHAPTER