Page 215 of Shadowman

“Holy shit…” Byron whispers, sitting up slowly. My eyes widen.

It’s Dr. Love and Felix Darcey.

“What are they doing out here…?” I mumble, reaching for my clothes as Byron does the same.

“Well, looks like I made it just in time.”

No bloody way…

My stomach twists as a different form steps out of the shadows. Tattered and torn, a deranged teddy bear with a mask and two swords…Aliveand smirking at me.

I swallow, and he waves.

He’s back.

Leo is back.

The first one was messy.

We’d never done it before and were much moreenthusiasticthan we were prepared. Wrath clouded our ability to think rationally and play it smart.

We ambushed him in the parking garage at his office and stabbed him twelve times, leaving behind a plethora of evidence.

It’s fine.I didn’t care much about getting caught. Neither did Trevel.

So long as we had enough time to do the other three.

Number One only wet my whistle.Got my motor running.Trevel was still hurt. He wasscared. But I was there for him—as I always have been—making sure he understood that he had no choice.Wedidn’t.

They all had to go. It was imperative.

Number Two kicked me into second gear. We’d snuck into his birthday party, where I slipped cyanide into his Macallan while Trevel stayed nearby and inconspicuous.It was important that he not be seen this time around.

Two died painfully; choking and convulsing, his organs failing as he threw up blood in front of his friends and family. It was brutal.

Fuckingbrilliant.

Oh, please. Stow your judgements. He deserved every second of it and then some after leaving my best friend in the state he had.

Trevel still had the stitches to prove it.

The high was exquisite, for us both. Despite Trevel’s prior uncertainty, he was drunk on the revenge, an intoxication stronger than the cocktail of drugs in his veins.

Poor thing…He’s always beensobroken. Used and manipulated by somanypeople who deserved to be slaughtered, painfully and publicly.

He needed this. Needed to know that he was strong—still is.Thatno onewould ever take from him again without being taken from in return.

And it worked. My nightly pep talks. Mysupport.

He likes to think I’m not supportive of him. That I sometimesdisappearwhen he needs me the most. That I don’tcareenough to save him from such acts of depraved savagery he’s unfortunately suffered at the hands of many awful humans.

Still, deep down, we both know it doesn’t work that way. I’m no more capable of stopping terrible things from happening to him than he is, and he knows that. Often times, he’s just looking for someone to blame, and I don’t mind. I’ll gladly be a martyr for him if that’s what he needs. He’s always been infinitely smarter than most people, even at that age—the first two had proven as much.

Fifteen years old, and he had the remaining two cowering and shitting themselves.

Unfortunately, our lack of finesse meant that our time to complete the final two was limited. As much as I wanted him to savor it, we had to work quickly.

Only two days later, we came for Number Three in his office. Trevel pretended to be his private masseuse—he wore a wig and everything. It was fantastic.