Anathema (26 page)

The fence draws closer and closer. Now I can see the chainsaws gleaming in the sunlight. Useless weapons, Alexander told me. They’re intimidating, and they’ll definitely kill, but they’re heavy and clumsy. I catch sight of a studded whip. Don’t underestimate those, he told me. They’re blunt force instruments that can break bones, not just slash your skin. They can’t be used through the fence. No projectiles can be used, either. But I stop carefully five feet away, and just look at my would-be murderers.

They’re a range of ages. Some, like the small, rat-like guy with delicate features that seem to melt into each other, look to be early twenties, at most. The rat guy holds a strip of piano wire, and licks his lips, watching me avidly. Other Disciples are middle aged, like the scarred man with the leathery face, long hair and almost feminine gold earrings on. It makes an odd contrast to the chainsaw in his hand, the muscles bulging over his bare arms. There’s a beautiful blonde with long legs exposed beneath her skirt, watching me with her head tilted to the side like a hungry cat. I can’t be sure, but I think there’s a dagger tucked into her belt.

And striding forward to stand at the front of them is the handsome man in his late thirties. He has broad shoulders, symmetrical features, a square jaw and a smile that reveals perfect orthodontia. His brown hair looks to have been cut recently, short at the sides, gelled at the top. His trademark scar slashes through his left eyebrow. Apart from that one flaw, he could be a politician or a middle-aged celebrity in a magazine, but today he’s leading a pack of serial killers in a quest to destroy me.

“Hello there, little lady.” He grabs the fence, leans onto it. “We don’t get many anathemas asking for autographs, so I’m guessing you’re here to beg for your life. Why don’t you come a little closer so we can talk?”

“You’re Wolfman Savage.” My voice sounds hoarse.

“In the flesh,” he agrees, his green eyes gleaming with pride. “And you’re Kathryn Grant. You don’t look like a mass murderer.”

Because I’m not.
I almost say it, but then I don’t. I stare at Wolfman Savage, remembering him howling with blood on his lips, some poor man’s heart in his hand. That man’s family tried so hard to protect him. The video on YouTube didn’t even show them afterwards, just the man’s triumphant killers, but their wails of anguish could be heard. They must’ve watched this sadistic freak celebrating their loss and felt such rage, knowing they couldn’t do anything about it.

“Maybe looks are deceiving,” I tell him. “Maybe you made a huge mistake coming here.”

He just grins excitedly. “Oh, I love spirit. I’m gonna like killing you, I know it.”

“You don’t get to kill me,” I say coldly. Then I walk towards the Project Hope people, only a few of whom are brave enough to linger by the fence.

“Aw, come on!” Wolfman Savage shouts, seeing where I’m heading. Out of the corner of my eye, I’m aware of Death’s Disciples gathering around to furiously discuss this turn in the situation.

The Project Hope people press up against the fence eagerly, bright, friendly smiles on their lips. I try to smile back but can’t form my lips into the gesture. They may want to kill me for a good cause, but they still want to kill me.

“I hear you kill anathemas for sick children,” I say loudly.

Wolfman Savage jostles several of his hunters aside to rush towards them. I flash a quick glance behind me towards Amanda, who smiles at me over her cell phone camera.

“Hey, hey, this is
our kill!
” Wolfman Savage shouts at the Project Hope people.

“We donate all proceeds to local hospitals. Your bounty could pay for the care of little Timmy Westland,” says one of the Project Hope ladies, pulling out a photo of a round-faced boy. “He’s suffering from stage four—”

“This is OUR KILL,” Wolfman Savage says, storming up to the lady. She shrieks and stumbles back a step. But he’s careful not to touch her. “Do you know who I am? What do you think you’re playing at, lady?”

Then he says something that makes my blood run cold.

“There are two more perfectly killable anathemas in there for you scavengers. That’s bounty enough. You don’t need our girl here.”

Horror blooms through me.

Wolfman Savage knows I’m not the only anathema here. He knows about Alexander and Noelle.

“Who told you—” I begin, and then I realize how Wolfman Savage knows.

Russell.

He said he told them everything
.
He could’ve seen our group heading to the backstage hangout. He knows all about it. One check on his cell phone, and he could’ve ID’d Noelle as another anathema.

But did he tell
everyone
there are three anathemas here? Or just Death’s Disciples? Do all the hunters in town know three anathemas being forced out of school at the end of the day, or are Death’s Disciples the only guild aware of this?

Wolfman Savage continues to argue with them, but he doesn’t get physical. He’s careful not to do anything that could be construed as assault. He even waves back the rest of Death’s Disciples when they look ready to start something. Our plan is not going to work. We won’t get any blackmail material. More local hunters and Project Hope people begin to retreat in fear.

And Death’s Disciples know about Alexander and Noelle. They know. The thought beats through my brain over and over. They know, they know, they know…

I can’t just let this happen.

“Timmy has to wait,” I tell the Project Hope people. Then, to Wolfman Savage, “Can I talk to you? Alone?”

He stops arguing with the Project Hope lady, raising an intrigued eyebrow at me. He beckons me closer.

I shake my head. No way. I’m not that stupid. I walk away from the Project Hope people, maintaining my careful distance from the fence. I steal a glance behind me at Amanda, and see she’s lowering her cell phone, puzzled. I’m deviating from the plan. She throws a glance back towards the school lobby, as though Alexander might know more than she does about what I’m doing. He doesn’t. He can’t.

I need answers. Only Wolfman Savage has them.

When we’re far enough from the Project Hope people, I say to Wolfman Savage, “You know about the other two anathemas. I guess all the hunters do, then?”

He leans against the fence again, his eyes gleaming with interest. Like any predator, he senses opportunity. Weakness. “Nope. Just a few of us who were here a few minutes ago when some helpful kid came out of the school to tell us. He also had me sign his cast.” He sounds perfectly reasonable, the way he does in his creepiest videos. He’s also confirmed my suspicion. It was Russell.

“I…” My voice falters. I don’t want to do this. Knots of terror form in my chest, my stomach. I have to do this. “I want those other two anathemas alive.”

A wolfish grin splits his lips. “I can make it happen. Scare away the last of the scavengers,” he nods derisively towards the small handful of local hunters still about, “tell my boys to back off. It’ll give them time to get clear of this place. I don’t care about lesser anathemas. I want the glory, the big ones. Everyone knows you, so you’re the one I’m here for. I want
you
. Do you get that? Just you.”

I get it.

“Kathryn, it’s obviously not working!” The shout comes from behind me. Amanda. “Just come back now!”

I glance back briefly and shake my head. Her brow furrows. She’s talking to someone on her cell phone. Her words to the person on the other end float to me. “Something’s wrong. She’s still talking to him.”

I turn back to Wolfman Savage, my heart pounding harder and harder. Blood rushes to my head, dizzying. I know what I have to do but I can’t move because the thought of it horrifies me. But there are no other options now. None at all. Three of us die tonight… Unless I do something now.

“Just me,” I repeat again, my voice a jagged whisper.

Maybe there was no avoiding this. From the moment I took those
Showdown
people to the beach, I’ve been teetering on the edge of this abyss. No, earlier. From the moment Mitch marched into my school and let me know it was my life or Alexander’s. I close my eyes.

I tried to be a good person. I tried to do something good. I wanted to help people, help the world. So many things have backfired, but here I am at this critical moment, and it’s here before me again. A choice. Do I do the right thing or do I retreat?

“I want a guarantee they’ll be safe. An absolute guarantee.” My voice sounds steadier than I feel.

“Kathryn!” It’s not Amanda’s voice this time. It’s Alexander’s. He’s left the school, and I glance back fleetingly to see them both starting towards me. I don’t have much time.

“Cross my heart, hope to die,” Wolfman Savage says, hand over his heart, his eyes on mine. “I absolutely guarantee safety to them both for the remainder of this day.”

Now or never. I do this now or never. Footsteps are pounding up behind me. I’m already moving towards the gate

“KATHRYN, DON’T!” Alexander shouts at me, so close, but he’s too far to stop me.

The thought rushes through my head:
I’m sorry, Mom and Dad.
I spring forward, fling up the latch of the fence and shove my way through it. One yank slams it closed behind me with a fierce rattle.

For a split second, the wind pounds my face, the sunlight glares in my eyes, and it registers in my head that I am officially off school grounds. My gaze flies behind me through the gap of metal links. Alexander is still sprinting towards me, and for a breathtaking instance, I see the anguish on his face. Beyond him, Amanda is already screaming at the shadows swimming across the concrete, hunters converging upon me.

And then Death’s Disciples descend.

I expect to die immediately. I expect it to hurt. My eyes squeeze shut. Then a massive weight slams my jaw, hurling me to the ground.

Concrete scrapes my arms, my knees, and a foot sinks into my side, cracking something, driving the breath from me, sending acid shooting up my throat. A sharp, sickening pain registers, stabbing at me over and over. It’s not a knife, though. My breath returns in a sudden gush, and I’m gasping, groaning. My arms clutch my ribs. There are faces flashing in the sunlight above me, kneeling over me, voices shouting.

“Don’t kill her yet.”

“Back off, Hartman! We’re taking her to—”

“Not yet, Savannah!” A hand catches the wrist of the slim blonde woman, whose blade flashes down until it’s inches from my eyes. “No fun yet.”

I squint against the sunlight, and then there are hands dragging me, hauling me to my feet. Pulling me along, all of Deaths’ Disciples closing in on me, a wall of bodies. And then the fence springs open and I shout out, “No, don’t!” But it’s too late, and Alexander has already hurled himself through. He’s off school grounds now, too.

His blade arcs out, sinking into the nearest hunter’s side. There are too many, though. Even for him. I struggle futilely against the powerful arms around me, screaming at Wolfman Savage, “You swore he’d be safe! You swore it!”

My voice is lost in the cacophony of shouts, threats. I glimpse Alexander now as I’m dragged away from him. There’s a twine of wire around his throat. Two people have his arms, but he’s putting up a fight. He sinks a kick into someone else’s stomach, catches someone else across the face.

“No!” The shout rips from my throat. “No, let him go! Let him go”

Then Alexander is down, lost beneath the swarm of attackers. I see the large man with earrings raise a sword. I scream in horror—but then Wolfman Savage leans forward and swipes the man’s blade aside with his own.

“Stop,” Wolfman Savage orders.

The man rears back, red-faced, furious.

I stop fighting whoever’s holding me, watching with my heart in my throat as I’m dragged step by step from the scene. My urgent gaze is fixed on what’s happening, on the hunters gathered over Alexander. Wolfman Savage looks down at Alexander where he’s still trying to rise. He gives a laugh, and then with a brutal kick, knocks Alexander back inside the fence.

“Stay in there for your own good, boy,” Wolfman Savage says. “Count yourself lucky.” He shuts the fence himself, then whips around. His hands are upraised in his leather jacket, and he ignores the objections of the rest of Death’s Disciples, saying cheerfully, “A deal’s a deal. We have our girl.”

My legs give out. It worked. It worked. I didn’t give up my life for nothing. Wolfman Savage’s grinning face swivels towards me and he makes a move-along gesture with his hand, signaling the person holding me.

A sharp pain jabs my arm. I look down in time to see a needle compressing, and suddenly I’m on the ground, blackness teetering around me. Laughter fills my ears, and then darkness pulls me under.

Someone is groaning in pain. There’s a dull stabbing moving down my side. I try to raise my eyelids, but they seem to weigh a thousand pounds.

“Easy there. Easy does it.”

A familiar voice. One that sends knots coiling in my stomach. I don’t recognize it.

A glass presses against my lips. My throat is like sandpaper. I swallow the water down. A hand cups the back of my head.

“That’s right. Drink up.”

My eyes finally open, unfocused, the world a blur. And then Wolfman Savage’s gleaming white grin registers. Adrenaline jolts me upright.

 
I scream out in shocked pain at the stabbing sensation down my side. Sitting next to me at the edge of my sickbed, Wolfman Savage smiles and shakes his head. “Careful there. One of our hunters is a surgeon, he says your ribs have a hairline fracture. Not my choice. I told my boys not to bust you up too early. We haven’t even had a chance to talk yet.”

I stare at Wolfman Savage, appalled, remembering what happened.

“What… where…” I’ve pressed back as far from him as I can get, my heart fluttering wildly in my chest. There’s a tight bandage around my torso. Why hasn’t he just killed me yet? Why is he drawing this out?

“We had to knock you out a few hours, get setup. It’s time to play now.”

“Where is this place?” I demand looking around.

“Cozy little beachside house. We rented it out for the killing part.”

“Um. Oh.” I can hear the waves pounding the shore. Killing.
Killing.
That’s right. My death is right before me.

My gaze flies towards the window, the pitch black night outside. I don’t know how long I’ve been unconscious. For all I know, we’re right near my house and I have no idea. My parents might hear me from the house if I scream loud enough.

“It gets boring for our eleven million YouTube subscribers if we just kill anathemas the same way every time,” Wolfman Savage tells me. “We try to spice things up. Make the hunts look more interesting. We even build sets, obstacle courses, that sort of thing. Today we’ve got a sand maze. It took a lot of work. You better appreciate it!” Then he laughs at his own joke.

I find myself thinking of his videos again. The first ones, the early ones before Death’s Disciples gained fame, were all similar to Savage Death on Courthouse Steps. The guild always attacked as one, tore their victims apart as Wolfman Savage howled.

Now that I think about it, though, the later ones did become more elaborate. Chases through boggy marshes, across rocky countryside, always ending in the brutal destruction of the anathema. Apparently even blood thirsty audiences needed more than gore to keep them entertained.

“First thing’s first. I have this hunch one little schoolgirl didn’t massacre all those
Showdown
folks. Who did it?”

“Why should I tell you anything?” I say, my teeth gritted. “You kill me no matter what.”

His smile is malevolent. It brings out the thin white scar over his eyebrow. “You know these people in my crew? Some of them are real sick freaks.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Hey, I’m a businessman. I have a public image.”

“You eat people’s hearts!”

He rolls his eyes. “Someone cuts open the chest, and yanks it out, then sure, I’ll make a big show for the cameras of holding it up, parading around with it. That’s not blood on my lips, though. Ketchup, cranberry sauce, I just smear it like this.” He rubs his hand over his mouth. “If it was blood, who knows what diseases I could get. You’d be surprised what I can do to convince people I’m as crazy my boys are. Nah, they’re sick puppies who kill for fun. I just do it for the money, the endorsements.”

“Then you’re worse than they are.” My voice shakes. The wall presses into my back. “They’re seriously mentally ill. You’re just a greedy sociopath.”

He just seems amused. “Let’s say you’re right, and I am a bad guy. Here’s why you should tell me if there any other anathemas worth hunting down while I’m here.” He leans back, twisting his wedding ring back and forth on his ring finger. “See, one of my guys, Bowman, he just likes to sever the carotid artery, see girls bleed out. But my wife out there, Savannah? She likes to tape up mouths and noses, let them thrash until they’re about to suffocate, then pull the tape off. And do it over and over and over again.”

My stomach turns.

“I’ve got this crew around me because we make good money together, and because they’re all sick freaks. They all get a turn at a kill, their way, their method.” He bares his teeth in a smile. “I decide which of them kills you tonight. That means I decide how awful it’s gonna be. So this is your chance to buy an easy exit. Give me names. Who killed the
Showdown
folks? I need some new anathemas to hunt.”

I swallow hard. I’m dead anyway. Whatever happens, it’s going to be awful. All I can decide now is who to bring with me. I’m tempted to name Liam, but I’m worried that if the Wasters get in Wolfman Savage’s crosshairs, they’ll have nothing left to lose. They’ll have no reason not to kill Alexander and Noelle, anyway.

“I didn’t know their names. They were just passing through town and I made a deal with them to bring them the
Showdown
people. I think… I think they were anathemas like me. But I’m not sure. It really was me. I was the mastermind.”

“You sure about that?”

“I’m positive,” I say firmly.

I expect him to be upset. But Wolfman Savage just breaks into a ferocious smile. “Good girl. That’s all I needed you to say.”

He strides over to a side table, and turns off a camera. It occurs to me dully that he just filmed that. That when he uploads his vide of my murder to YouTube, my confession will be there with it. Just for audience entertainment.

He rubs his hands together and turns to me. “You know, I think I’ll give you to McNeely and his chainsaw.”