Page 23 of Mutual Prey

“Can’t wait to see youdie,” I tell him, and then we each hurry away in opposite directions.

5

Well, fuck.

I haven’t been able to stop swearing all day. Even internally, I’d managed to stop the habit for so long. Now, it feels like I have almost a decade of swearing to make up for.

And I sure feel like swearing, right now.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

This is the worst thing he’s done to me yet. The worst!

Forget the public spanking or the public sex. Or the private sticking ax handles and rifle butts up my body.Thisis the absolute worst thing.

I sag to my knees, my eyes burning with angry tears as I take in the very dead professor at my feet.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go at all.

My mind is reeling from the realization that the next kill on my list has been taken from me. Professor Alistair Cotton is dead, and I don’t need to look at the note handwritten in blood to know who’s responsible.

See you tonight, baby. Love, Daddy.

Asshole! Fucking asshole!

No matter how strange it felt to kiss him earlier today, I’ve never been more dead-set on killing anyone. Finn Austen took my name from me. Hestoleit. I can’t forgive him.

My chest heaves as I make my way back to my car.Fuck, I have a problem. I always knew I did, but Finn’s right—what’s going to happen to me after I’ve reached the end of my purpose? My body is wracked with pain, I see actual stars… this isn’t normal. I mean, none of it is normal, but the loss of that name makes me physically ill.

I know I can’t help the killings—I’ve never tried to. But isn’t there any way to stop the mindcrushing pain that cripples me now?

Finn. Finn Austen.

That’s the only way to stop it, I suddenly realize. My chemical hyper-fixation latches itself onto him. Mentally, I add him to my list, in the place of Professor Alistair Cotton.

I’m killing him next. He’s going to die before Mr. Campbell’s wife does. He’s going to die before any of my fourteen remaining victims do. The last one is Mr. Campbell. But Finn is next.

Which means I need to kill him before midnight. Before the four people on my list who will be dying at 12:04 a.m.

I don’t think my body could handle it if I had to switch around the order of my list. Professor Cotton being stolen from me has made me reach my limit.

But the ball starts at 8. That means I have four hours to kill Finn Austen. Four whole hours.

That should be doable… shouldn’t it?

_

When I reach the gymnasium, loud music assaults my ears, the bass making my temples throb. No, we’re definitely not in the 1950s anymore. Or the 1770s, my favorite decade for music. But I’d even take Chuck Berry over this crap. Damn it, it makes me want to puke. It’s a good thing I never eat before my kills, or I probablywouldthrow up.

I enter the large space. A half-assed attempt has been made to convert it to a ballroom, but you can still see the basketball hoops despite the frilly decorations that cover them. Clusters of balloons don’t hide the rafters, and there hasn’t even been an attempt to conceal the painted lines on the floor.

Everyone’s wearing masks, and that partisthrilling. I know Finn must be in this sea of faces somewhere, but I have no idea who he could be. I stop by the refreshment table, serving myself a glass of punch but firmly avoiding the food, as I scan the room.

I don’t see any visible face tattoos. But then again, there are a number of full-face masks. Even some hoods. He’s probably one of those.

I feel kind of like an idiot with my sparkly cat mask. I’m not even half-hidden, am I? Then again, my hair is pulled backinto a tight bun, and I’ve colored my hair pink. Not with any permanent color, just one of those box colors that wash right out. Still, I wanted to do something different. Something fun.

Finn Austen sure brings out something strange in me.