CHAPTER THIRTY SIXHe Has a NameThe murderer was thrilled to see Bryony back on the trail. It had been a few days, not so long, as he was beginning to despair of ever seeing her again, but long enough that he had killed twice more in her absence. Nobody spectacular or even very special; just some random people he deemed suitable. But now she was back and ready to play.Only . . . only there was something different about her, and he couldn’t quite figure it out. Something about the way she held herself, something about the shape of her mouth.Ah, yes. Grief.How unusual. She was a woman born of grief, and yet somehow she was breaking under the weight of it. It was a lovely thing to see, actually, like the branches of a tree snapping under an ice storm, a sort of beauty in the pale horror of the event, but at the same time, he didn’t enjoy seeing her suffer. She moved him in a way he hadn’t often been moved. It was like watching a ghost fade away after you had just grown accustomed
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVENIn Which the Murderer Becomes a HeroThis is what Peter the Murderer thought:“Wow, what horrible, painful screams. It reminds me of the good old days. That is certainly a woman who wants to survive. Mmm, how lovely.”He thought, “How unusual for somebody else to be on my turf. I certainly don’t like it. I just might need to hunt this other person down and have a frank, yet gentlemanly discussion, on what one does and doesn’t do when an active serial killer has laid claim to a specific area.”He thought, “The girl.”And once that brief thought ghosted over his mind, he could think no more. “The girl.” The girl he hunted, the girl he had gifted, the lonely girl from the stars whose very countenance had been frosted over by death before he even met her, and now?And now somebody was beating him to her.That galvanized him. That got his legs moving. He burst out of the blackberry bushes, heedless of the scratches, and pelted down the trail as fast as his legs
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHTSorrow and Stars and LightEddie Warshouski was getting tired of Detective Bridger.“So your old girlfriend and your mother were both murdered, and now your new wife is attacked, as well? You’re sort of the Typhoid Mary of killers, aren’t you?”Well, ouch, Eddie thought. This man pulls no punches.“I told you I wasn’t in town for my mother’s murder. I was getting married. And a man in my girlfriend’s building killed her. He was a whack job. And this guy that attacked Bryony—”He couldn’t finish. He was furious. The idea that some sadistic killer would step out on a popular running trail and try to drag his wife off to do who knows what was beyond him. What a horrible and distasteful affair. How absolutely hurtful and unforgivable, whatever he had planned.Well, he knew what. He knew exactly what this creep had planned to do, and he could hardly think straight. Bryony was still in the hospital, cut and bruised and shaken, but otherwise whole, although they wo
CHAPTER THIRTY NINEStunning in its HorrorThey finally released Bryony from the hospital, and Eddie couldn’t help himself: He scooped her up and carried her to the car like an invalid.“Eddie, I’m all right, I’m all right!” she exclaimed, but she was happy, and kissed Eddie on the cheek, and patted his shoulders, head, and arms with her bandaged hands.“I invited the man who saved you over for dinner this weekend. His name is Peter Culpert, and he seems nice. I’m happy he was there, Bryony.”“I’m happy, too,” she said, and they held hands and climbed the rickety stairs up to Eddie’s old apartment, which was now Bryony’s new apartment. As soon as they stepped inside Eddie knew something was wrong. His eyes darted around the room as he took everything in.Jasmine the Guitar was lying two inches farther to the right than he had left her. He knew this because he always lined her up exactly with the vertical stripes on the awful wallpaper. He was a bit obsessive in this way.The gla
CHAPTER FORTYStitches“Mr. Culpert, would you mind passing the rolls?”“Please, call me Peter.”So it was the weekend, and the cozy and sparse apartment was suddenly full of guests. There were Bryony and Eddie, and they had invited Syrina and Rikki-Tikki over, as well, and Peter Culpert—the man who wanted more than anything to murder Bryony—was their guest of honor.“Thank you so much for saving her life,” Syrina said, clasping both of Peter’s hands with her own. “I can’t imagine what would have happened if you hadn’t been there.”Yes, thank goodness I was stalking her from the bushes, Peter thought.“Yes, thank goodness I was jogging just then,” he said aloud. “What a remarkable coincidence.”Rikki-Tikki snorted. “Nah, it wasn’t a coincidence. Death sort of has a thing for Bryony, if you know what I mean, and we’re all set up like chess players to thwart it sometimes.”Peter tilted his head to the side and looked at Rikki-Tikki. “Death has a thing for her? Whatever do you me
CHAPTER FORTY ONEDeath Like a CrownDetective Bridger woke up thrashing.He gasped and waited for his heart to slow down, which took longer and longer to do.“Dreaming about that girl again, sweetheart?” asked his wife. Her lovely face was full of sympathy, and traces of apprehension lined her forehead. Her husband had a tender soul and she was beginning to fear for him, because it seemed harder for him to shrug out of the coat of grime and murder he wore home each evening. He was growing distraught and driven and she knew the impending death of this lovely girl was behind it. Although she hadn’t seen the woman herself, she believed in her darling Ian, and she believed him when he said this girl wore death like a crown, and the crown was growing heavier and more difficult to endure, and one day her frail bones would snap entirely under the weight of it.“I have to go over the files again,” he said, and then he was gone. She knew he would be locked in the home office for the rest
CHAPTER FORTY TWOFalling into Fish and FlowersEddie no longer spent his days playing Jasmine the Guitar at Pike Place Market.“Where’s your husband?” Chad the Fish Guy asked Bryony one day. He was trying hard not to look at the noticeable stitches on her hands and face, but it was difficult. Bryony helpfully held her hands out for him to inspect. He touched them gingerly.“He’s busy,” she said. “He’s recording.”Chad the Fish Guy was impressed. “Wow. When things started to take off for him, they really took off.” He ran his finger over one of her new scars with some trepidation, but she grinned at him.“They don’t hurt, not really. You don’t have to be so gentle. Yes, I’m very happy for Eddie, but I’m sad because I miss him. I’m lonely without him. Are you ever lonely, Chad?”Chad was always lonely, but he would never say. He was constantly surrounded by people, and especially by women, but he was always lonely. He often curled up in his cold apartment and wished he had somebo
CHAPTER FORTY THREEA Broken HeartThis is what Chad thought:He thought, “Oh, rats, that guy is going to go after Bryony. I have to help her!”He thought, “Why aren’t my legs working? I can’t seem to make them move.”He thought, “Just when I figured out how to really love someone . . . ”The sad irony is Chad had finally discovered his heart after many years of denying it. He discovered he loved the girl at the flower shop and, yes, even Eddie for his grouchy protective ways, and with this new knowledge he could have gone on to live a beautiful and productive life.It could have been a life full of a witty wife and five children and a family dog whose name would have changed bi-weekly due to the whim of the family, although he would have been called ‘Buckley” more often than not. Chad could have purchased a home his wife would convince him to paint a whimsical dark purple with white trim, thereby being both creative and tidy, and he would have mowed the lawn every Saturday morn
CHAPTER SIXTY ONEThere Is No EndLightning did not hit our sweet Bryony. The same time it flashed, a car came spinning out of nowhere, and its headlights were stark and bright and almost blinded our dear girl. Her heart shivered and stopped momentarily, quite knocked out of sorts by the extreme overload, but soon came back to itself and began to beat resolutely.Car doors slammed and feet hurried over to her.“Bryony!” cried out a voice, a familiar voice, a dear and good voice. Bryony raised her head and looked through the veil of water to see death had been kind enough to send her an angel who looked, sounded, and, oh my, felt just like her Eddie.“Bryony, I will never leave you again, I swear it. Never, never,” he said, and buried his face into her wet hair, and kissed her cold face and lips and cheeks and fingers. He gently caressed her burst stitches and tried not to cry.A man walked up from behind him and held out a blanket. Eddie helped Bryony to her feet and she was soon
CHAPTER SIXTYThe EndOh, what a terrible story!How could it be that we followed Bryony’s journey from the time she was a little girl, ignorant of all that would befall her, through her first kiss and college and meeting friends and Eddie and her tormented killer and her fight to the death, and then she dies in the end?She dies. Bryony falls to the ground like a flower, and we are left to mourn her. More than that, we feel betrayed. We invested time and interest. We cheered her on and we shouted: “No, don’t let that man in your home!” and “Eddie, what are you doing, you must go with Bryony!” and “Hooray, Teddy Baker, you had decency inside of you all along, and we are so very proud of you for your choices!” Perhaps there were even a few thoughts of, “I wonder what a jonquil looks like. I shall certainly run to look one up and educate myself so I may better relate to the tale of Bryony and her Eddie.”Perhaps you are angry, dear reader. Perhaps you hoped better for our girl, beca
CHAPTER FIFTY NINEBlood and Wind and RainThere comes a time in everyone’s life when a decision must be made.There are always decisions being made, every second of every day, and sometimes that decision is simply not to decide. However, it needs be said that one day every living thing on this earth will make The Utmost Decision, the decision that will change the rest of their existence one way or the other. What is this decision, you ask? It is different for everybody, and you will not know what yours will be until the time comes, and perhaps even then you will not realize the importance of your choice.But as for our dear Bryony, when the time came and she was faced with her Utmost Decision, she realized the ramification of that instant with serene clarity. In fact, as she stood there in the blood and wind and rain with a killer and his brightly shining knife, the terror subsided for a perfect moment and she had amazing presence of mind.She thought, “He has found me, and I am
CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHTFight“Bryony,” Peter huffed. “I wish you were feeling better, that you were whole. You have no idea how much I wish this for you. Alas, it is not meant to be, because it is time. You and I have a dance to finish, don’t we?”The wind picked up, blowing the storm their way, blowing Bryony’s hair around her white face like a flag signaling for help. But no help was to be had, and she was stuck fast while Peter pressed behind her, his hand fisted in her hair.Bryony’s head was pulled sharply back, and the wind caressed her vulnerable throat in a way that unnerved her.She tried to keep her voice calm when she said: “I wish that you wouldn’t kill me, Peter. It would disappoint Eddie. It would disappoint my father.”Peter shrugged. “We can’t change who we are, can we? No, we cannot. I was born to live and you were born to die, my beautiful Bryony.” He coughed. “This wind, it’s blowing sand in my face. However do you get used to it? I can’t breathe.”“Just give you
CHAPTER FIFTY SEVENThe ChaseThe first drop of rain hit Bryony beside her eye, and ran down her face like tears.No, she thought. No!She knew Peter was behind her, and her mind went cottony with despair and panic. More time! She needed more time.Bryony picked up her pace. It would deplete her energy faster, but if she didn’t outrun him, her reserve of energy certainly wouldn’t do her any good.She scrapped her earlier plan of hiding in the library and phoning for help. Plan B consisted of running to the closest house and screaming hysterically for help. Unfortunately for her, that was still a good four miles. Loneliness consumed her, biting at her cheeks like the stormy air. It was all catching up with her. It was catching up.It was catching up. Already Peter could see her pale hair gathering and reflecting the weak light that somehow managed to filter through the harsh clouds. She was glowing, an ethereal will-o-wisp, and thoughts of the old tales flitted through his mind.
CHAPTER FIFTY SIXThe KnifeThe thing that must be remembered about Peter is that he, too, is a runner. Whereas Bryony planned to keep a little extra energy in her tank so as to make it the entire five miles, Peter had no such plans. He was sprinting, because he did not need to make it to the edge of town: he only needed to make it to the girl.His feet hit the ground like pistons, cold and mechanical, and he held the knife tightly in his grip, blade down.Oh, oh, how tragically this shall unfold.
CHAPTER FIFTY FIVECloudsThe car wouldn’t start, and Bryony knew this was unusual. Didn’t it start perfectly only today? Hadn’t it been a good and serviceable vehicle? Now, suddenly when she needed it most, it chose to let its internal parts rust and die and spew fluid hither and yon?She didn’t think so.Bryony peeked up and saw a man in the window of her father’s room. At first her heart skidded to a stop—Daddy!—but then she remembered her father was dead, and the man silhouetted there was Peter, and she had been warned against him within the last few hours by two people who cared for her.And she was a kind girl, a tender girl, but she was also a smart girl when her eyes were opened, and her father and Teddy succeeded in opening her eyes. Peter didn’t move from the window, and his body language told Bryony he was most likely off in a world of his own, so she used this to her advantage. She opened the car door as quietly as she could, slid out, and hit the ground doing what she
CHAPTER FIFTY FOURIdeallyPeter woke up with a start. Something was wrong. What was it? What was it?He was somewhere unfamiliar, and this realization had him on his feet beside the bed in no time. Had he been caught? Had he been taken? He would rather die before being taken, and he didn’t remember a struggle of any sort whatsoever.A quick scan of the room jogged his memory. Ah, yes. This was Stop’s house, the home where Bryony grew up, and he was sleeping in the bed of a dead man, but being who he was meant this didn’t bother him any. Stop had seemed like a good and decent man, and heaven knows his daughter adored him, and the fact that he had disliked Peter on sight, well, it only said good things about him, too.Downstairs Bryony would be sleeping, curled up on her side with, he imagined, her fingers close to her mouth like a child. She had fallen asleep in her clothes, but if she had the time to choose whatever she wanted to wear, would she be wearing a white nightgown to co
CHAPTER FIFTY THREEPlease LiveBryony nodded, and clutched the shoes to her chest like a talisman.“Thank you so much, Teddy. It can’t be easy to come here and say this to me. In my heart I think I always knew Peter was what you say, but I don’t want to believe that, you see. It means I have been foolish, which I have, and that Eddie has been blind, which he has. It means I should have run a long time ago, and I didn’t, and now I am sorry. It means when he saved me, he didn’t do it because he’s a good person, and I so dearly want him to be a good person. Please thank your wife for me, and kiss your beautiful girl, and take care of my father for me. Place him in the desert, and let him tamp it down and hold it back. I fear I shall never return here. Never again. I have nothing to come back for.”Teddy leaned through the window, kissed Bryony on her cheek and ran his hand over the stitches on her face.“I wish I could help more than this, but I can’t. Please live, sweet girl. You g