Page 14 of Death Kiss

Bill’s face flashes with fear, but before he can react, Liam grabs him and drags him into the woods. We need to get him far enough from the path that people won’t see or hear anything amiss.

I grab the zip ties and follow them, watching Liam’s muscles cord through his top as he hauls Bill away. He’s cursing and thrashing, but he’s in his sixties, with a pot belly and not particularly fit. Not a match for Liam.

When we’re a good ways from the path, Liam slams Bill against a tree while I zip-tie his arms behind him, then his legs together. We picked the tree earlier, not too thick but still sturdy enough to trap a man against it. The tarp is beneath him and pinned halfway up the tree, ready to catch as much evidence as possible.

Bill notices the heavy plastic sheet, and that’s the moment panic truly starts to set in. This isn’t just a robbery. No, he knows it’s going to be his murder.

His eyes flare wide, and he tugs hard at the plastic ties that bind him.

‘Oh, Bill. You’re not going anywhere, darling,’ I say, standing next to Liam, looking down at our trussed pig.

‘Let me go!’ he demands, spittle flicking down over his chin.

‘This is your final stop,’ Liam says, crouching down as Bill flinches.

‘Who the fuck do you think you are?’ Bill says.

Slowly peeling his mask off, Liam glares at Bill. ‘I know who I am. And I know who, and what, you are.’

There’s no recognition in Bill’s face. What’s one boy among many? Bill probably forgets all about them as soon as their voices break. Moving on to the next. And the next. And the next.

My knife digs into my palm as rage streaks through me. Hot flashes that have me seeing fucking red. ‘His name is Liam, and you’re one of the men who tried to ruin his life. When he was much younger, and much more vulnerable.’

Bill eyes Liam’s scarred face, but shakes his head. ‘I don’t remember you. We’ve never met.’

‘Funny that, because I know you have a birthmark on your chest shaped like a horseshoe.’

He turns a sickly sallow colour at Liam’s admission.

‘I used to look at it and wonder why it was so unlucky for me, when it’s supposed to be lucky that way up.’ Liam’s voice is thick, the pain of the past etching itself into his words.

‘It’s not me.’ Bill’s voice is thin, and he looks like he’s seen a ghost.

Liam pulls his knife out and slashes Bill’s chest, splitting his shirt. His squeal echoes around the woods, but there’s no blood. Instead, Liam unleashes a swath of Bill’s skin, where a dark brown horseshoe is visible.

‘I didn’t expect you to come back,’ Bill whispers.

Liam leans close, watching Bill sweat. ‘I doubt you gave me a second thought after you used me. Why would you? As a kid, I was utterly disposable. Not anymore.’

Squirming, Bill tries to free himself more desperately. But there’s no escape. ‘You can’t do this.’

‘How many times did they say that to you?’ I ask, my voice rising as I step to the right of Bill and press my knife to his throat. ‘Did you ever give any of them clemency?’

‘They liked it.’

My hand is shaking, the knife biting into his skin, small drops beading and flowing into the carved ivy details.

‘Do you remember Sam? And Pete? Both dead. Sam because what you did to him drove him to the edge, and Pete because he deserved to die. Just like you do.’ Liam’s voice is harsh. Strained. It hurts me to hear it. Makes me livid.

‘We’re going to kill every single one of you,’ I whisper into Bill’s ear as he starts to scream. Great, blood-curdling ones that thrill me and scare me in equal measure. His terror satisfies me greatly, but attracting attention isn’t what we need.

Applying pressure, I try to bring myself to slash through his skin and flesh. It’s harder than I imagine. I can feel his pulse beating against my hand. His life force thrumming desperately as he tries to hold on to life. This is different from Sam and Liam’s dad. They were deaths born in the moment, us or them. We picked Bill. Hunted him. Tore him from his daily life.

Every rehearsed line I imagined saying has fled. My mask is hot and cloying, and I feel sick to the stomach. But I want Bill to die. I want them all to die.

Gripping the blade, I press harder, feeling skin split, but stopping when I hit a hardness I hadn’t expected.

‘I can’t…’ I whisper.