Hushed (16 page)

Friday, October 31
^st

“Trick or Treat!”

Archer stared out the front door at a ghost, goblin, and what he assumed was some kind of Pokémon. It wasn’t even dark outside yet, so why were there trick-or-treaters? “Sorry… You guys are early. I don’t have anything.” Because he hadn’t planned on being there for Halloween. He was supposed to be with Evan, not sitting at home, waiting for Vivian to get ready to go. The kids gave him reproachful looks but left without a word.

“We should’ve gotten candy,” Vivian said as she stepped out from the hall. She’d tied her hair back into a tight ponytail, dressed in black pants and a matching shirt just as he’d instructed. It was so unlike her usual bright reds and baby pinks, but the less attention they drew to themselves, the better.

His stomach still hadn’t stopped doing backflips.

“We’re not going to be here anyway.” He fetched his keys from the counter. His gun was tucked away safely into his coat—not that he had plans of using it, but they needed a way to scare Mickey into submission. He tossed a spare hoodie in Viv’s direction. “You’re sure you want to do this? You’re sure he’ll even
be
there?”

“He never goes out on Halloween.” Viv pulled the jacket on and zipped it up. It was several sizes too big for her but it would do. “I really doubt he’s going to change his plans this year.”

Archer didn’t think Mick was the sort to hang out at home on any holiday when parties with girls and alcohol were calling his name, but whatever. Either Mick wouldn’t be home, or he might’ve brought company over. Some of his idiot friends or something. Archer was counting on that; he could convince Vivian to leave, to forget about the whole thing…

So why couldn’t he relax?

§

Mick’s apartment building sat nestled amongst a hefty cover of trees along the side of the street. Archer instructed Viv to park behind the complex where the trees were thickest. She practically bounced on the balls of her feet as he yanked up her hood. She smiled at him and it made him sick to his stomach.

“You have to promise me,” he said shakily, “to listen to everything I say. If I say ‘leave,’ we leave. Got it?”

Vivian nodded and rolled her eyes. He yanked the drawstrings tight enough to make her jerk.

“
Got it?
”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it. Are you getting scared?” She tugged at the hood to loosen it. Archer ignored her. He slid the gun out of his jacket, double-checked to make sure the safety was on. It would be stupid to use it in an apartment complex, but they needed it. Just in case.

Scared? Maybe he was. He didn’t want to do this. Didn’t want to let Evan down. Didn’t want to let
himself
down.

I don’t want to be a monster anymore.

But did it matter? Evan didn’t want him, and his options were limited. He could stay with Vivian and do this one last thing for her, or he could be alone.
Alone
was the more terrifying of his options.

Vivian behaved herself and followed close and silent on his heels as they skirted around the complex. He’d been there only once, for Mick’s birthday party a couple months ago. Archer hadn’t stayed any longer than he’d been forced to, but he remembered where it was.

The apartments were clumped into groups of eight. Four on the first floor, four on the second. Unfortunately, Mick’s was on the second. Fortunately…the back balcony was hidden by more trees. They could jump down if necessary and circle around to the back of the complex. It was a longer route but it would ensure nobody saw them. He halted near the edge of the tree cover, looking at both Mick’s balcony and his downstairs neighbor’s porch. The lights were off. Hopefully, no one was home.

But what if they were? What if they were seen? What if Evan found out?

Vivian elbowed him. His feet remained rooted to the spot. Staring up at that balcony, imagining Mick lying in his filthy home… Dying. Dead. Out of Archer’s life forever. Out of Vivian’s life. Would anyone miss him?
Really
miss him?

Would anyone miss me if I were gone?

He was the monster. No one would miss him. Wasn’t he just as unworthy of life as the people whose lives he’d taken? It had nothing to do with Vivian or Evan. Absolutely nothing to do with Vivian’s wants, or Evan’s approval, he realized.

It all came down to one thing:

“I don’t want to do this.”

Vivian twisted around slowly. Her eyes bore into him.

“…What?”

He couldn’t move. Hell, he couldn’t even look at Vivian. His eyes were transfixed on Mickey’s window.

“I don’t want to do it. It’s not right.”

Vivian grabbed his arm, tight to the point of painful. “What’re you talking about? We came all this way, what the hell’s the point of going back now?”

Archer forced himself to look at her. “I tried going after Hector. I tried, and I…couldn’t. I don’t want to hurt anyone—”

She hissed. “A little late for that, isn’t it?”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone
else.
” He slid the gun from his pocket and stared down at it. “I don’t want to be a monster.”
Alone
had to be better than this. Terrifying, but better.

Vivian pushed her hood off, running her hands over her pulled-back hair. “Jesus Christ, Archer…”

For a second, he thought—he hoped—she would change her mind. She would agree with him, like the Vivian he’d always known and loved would have. They’d returned to the car and go home, spend their Halloween with stupid movies and too much candy.

Just for a second.

Then Vivian grabbed the gun out of his hands, shoved it into her jacket, and took off.

“
Vivian!
”

She ignored him and disappeared around the corner.

What should he do? He could stay there, wait for her to come back. But what if someone saw her? Waving a gun (his gun!) at Mickey while he laughed and called the cops? He couldn’t stand out there in the cold, and he couldn’t leave without her. Swearing under his breath, Archer made sure his hood was pulled up tight and followed.

Vivian still had a key to Mick’s apartment and she was unlocking the front door when Archer reached the stairs. He couldn’t do more than whisper her name. She barely spared him a glance before vanishing inside.

The scent of stale pizza and fresh Chinese food hit him as he crossed the threshold and shut the door quietly behind them. His heart jackhammered so loudly it was impossible for the entire complex not to have heard it. All the lights were off. A faint and gloomy glow flooded into the hall from one of the back rooms and Vivian stood, hood yanked back, silhouetted in the bedroom doorway.

“What the hell, Viv?!”

Mickey’s voice. Archer skidded to a halt behind Vivian, looking over her. Mick scrambled back in bed, naked, barely kept modest by a blanket. Vivian aimed the gun at him, sure and steady, like she might actually shoot.

Archer’s confidence that she wouldn’t wavered.

“What the hell are you doing?” Mickey snarled. He held the blanket haphazardly around his waist as he crawled out of bed. Something was wrong. Clothes on the floor that didn’t look like Mick’s.

The bathroom door opened and a pretty redhead stepped out, no more clothed than Mick. She froze, opened her mouth, closed it again, like she didn’t know whether to be confused or terrified. In the reflection behind Mickey’s head, Archer could see Vivian’s expression shifting.

Confusion.

Shock.

Unbridled fury
.

“Trick or treat, Mick.” In a voice, so deceptively calm and dark.

She pulled the trigger.

The bullet took Mick square in the chest. The redhead screamed. She screamed even after Vivian shot her in the stomach. Viv cleared the room, practically vaulting over the bed. The gun pressed directly to the girl’s pretty red hair and fired again. The screaming stopped. It echoed inside his skull like warning bells. Fear. Pain.

From the bed, Mick let out a long, gurgling groan and tried to sit up. Vivian popped off two more shots, and he went still.

Archer was a ghost. Watching. Helpless, unable to stop the chain of events unfolding in front of his eyes. Just like before, except this time he needed to protect Vivian from herself.

None of this could be real. None of it was right. Blood speckled the mirror, appearing black on Mick’s bare skin under the eerie flicker of the television.

Vivian’s head swiveled from the girl to Mick and back again, seeming to realize what she’d done. She abandoned the girl on the ground, crawling onto the bed to Mickey’s side to check for a pulse.
At least she did one thing right.
But without gloves. God
dammit.

Archer moved without thinking, wound his arms around her waist and dragged her back off the bed while trying not to step in the blood on the carpet. Viv squirmed in his grasp. Was the sound she made a laugh or a sob? He couldn’t see her face to tell. He had half a mind to leave her there. Never would he have killed a complete stranger. She hadn’t deserved to die. Maybe Mickey hadn’t, either.

“Vivian, we need to
go.
”

When she stopped struggling, he dragged her out of the room. They headed for the front door, Vivian’s hand still in a death-grip as he reached for the handle. Someone pounded on it, shouting from the other side. Archer reared back. He cut through the kitchen and threw open the sliding glass door. Only then did he let her go, slinging a leg over the balcony, letting himself drop to the ground below.

He winced on impact, barely remembering to roll with it at the last second to avoid a snapped ankle. When he got to his feet and looked up, Vivian was staring over her shoulder.

“
Move it!”

She whipped around and wasted no time sliding over the ledge. Archer halfway caught her as she dropped to soften the landing. Her hand was in his again, and they stumbled off into the darkness while the world behind them came alive with shouts and cries from Mickey’s apartment.

He ran until he thought he couldn’t run anymore. Lungs burning, throat cracked, pulse thrumming in his ears. Couldn’t stop to think about where they were heading; if he did, his legs would give out. Vivian became harder to drag along behind him. Just when he thought their dash through the woods would never end, the car came into view. Archer nearly slammed into it in his desperation to get inside, shoving Vivian unceremoniously into the passenger seat. He grabbed the keys when she fumbled them out of her pocket.

They drove off at no more than two miles over the speed limit, with Vivian pleading with him every step of the way. “Speed up,
speed up
.” It would’ve drawn attention. No. Archer kept going until they were two, five, ten blocks from the complex. When they were a safe distance, he floored it. The more space between them and the apartment, the further he relaxed.

If Vivian hadn’t been a girl, he would’ve slapped her in the mouth. If he couldn’t hit her, he could sure as hell yell at her.

“What the fuck were you thinking?!”

Vivian turned to him, stunned. The air in the car practically hummed with her adrenaline. Blood was drying on her hands and face and the front of her coat. “
You
weren’t going to do it.”

“So instead you decide to take matters into your own hands, huh?” He pressed the pedal down harder, speeding onto the onramp. “Let everyone in the building hear you. Got your fingerprints
all over
Mick, footprints in the blood on the floor so they’ll even know you wore your pretty new shoes to murder your boyfriend in a jealous rage. Real smooth, Vivian.” When he spared a glance, he knew he’d succeeded in scaring her out of her mind. Her eyes were saucer-sized, glassy with tears. “Did anyone see you before you jumped?”

Vivian looked away. Archer slammed the gas down to the floorboard and she sucked in a breath, gripping the door handle tightly.

“Archer—”

“
Did anyone see you,
Vivian?”

“I don’t…” Her voice lodged in her throat. He slowed down until she exhaled, shaking in her seat. “If they did, it was just the back of my head.”

“So when they ask people who Mickey knew with long blonde hair, they’ll never know it was you.” How stupid could she be? How stupid was
he
to have agreed to this in the first place? Why couldn’t she have left with him in the beginning before things veered out of control?

Vivian huddled in her seat, sniffing quietly.

Archer didn’t comfort her. She was a monster now, too.

§

While Vivian cleaned up in the bathroom, Archer shoved anything and everything of hers he could find into her bag. It was waiting by the front door when she emerged.

“What’s that…?”

“You aren’t staying here.” He grabbed one of her coats—the baby pink one—out of his closet and tossed it to her. “You’re going to drive out of town. Go somewhere and hope you can make an alibi for yourself if they trace this back to you.”