Page 32 of The Executioners Three

Ever so gently, Freddie reached up and touched Theo’s face. Exactly as she’d wanted to at the hospital. Exactly as she’d wanted to all morning. He didn’t pull away. He simply watched her, breath held and lips parted.

Outside, the car alarm kept blaring. The crickets hummed and crooned.

Freddie brushed her fingers above his stitches—careful not to caress them directly. Someone had punched him there.

Davis, she thought, recalling what Theo had said only a few minutes ago. Did Davis put you up to this? Theo had also said his life was a mess, meaning something must have happened to him since their kiss on Sunday.

Something awful. Something more than just his grandmother in the hospital. Something he thought was worth kissing her for.

Ever so slowly, Freddie moved her fingers away from his eyebrow and down the sides of his jaw. With each inch, Theo sucked in air—just a fraction of a breath, his lungs and ribs expanding each time. His pupils dilating.

Then her fingers reached his lips, and he went completely still.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she murmured, running her thumb near the cut over his upper lip. Even broken like it was, the skin was soft.

“You won’t.” His voice was a warm whisper against her fingertips.

She didn’t reply. She wanted to kiss him so badly that it hurt.

Like a python constricting around her chest. But now that she was standing here, now that she’d caressed his face and he hadn’t pulled away—now that she had placed her fingertips to his lips and gotten permission to take this further, she found she couldn’t move.

She was still so new to all of this. To boys kissing her and her wanting to kiss them back.

So Freddie simply stared up at Theo, and he simply stared down at her. Blue, blue, intense blue. And somewhere, a million miles away, crickets and car alarms still sang.

Theo was the first to finally move. With barely any shift at all, he twisted his head and kissed the tips of Freddie’s fingers.

It was like lighting another sparkler. The feel of his lips against the sensitive skin—it sent Freddie’s entire stomach rocketing into her eyeballs.

One kiss became two, Theo’s gaze never breaking from hers, and Freddie thought she might faint from that stare alone. Then his own fingers slid up and laced gently around her wrist.

He kissed the inside of her fingers. He kissed her palm. He kissed her pulse point. And if it hurt him to do so, he gave no indication. He just kept staring and kissing and, Freddie supposed, waiting for her to offer some kind of reaction.

But Freddie didn’t know what reaction to give. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. Everything had gone so blurry around the edges, and all she seemed capable of doing was standing there while her chest wound tighter and tighter.

Until at last, her ribs were so tight that her lungs snapped in two. A soft sigh rustled from her throat.

And that seemed to be what Theo had been waiting for. In a fluid, hungry movement, he pulled Freddie to him, knocked off her baseball cap, and kissed her.

But where she’d expected ferocity, she found only gentleness.

It was the softest kiss Freddie had ever received. Softer than she’d even known was possible. Just a slight brushing of Theo’s lips, while his eyes—still open—held hers.

Haunting, those eyes were.

For several frozen heartbeats, she held his gaze. It felt so intimate, lip to broken lip and eye to swollen eye. More intimate than their kissing or their touching or their flirting had ever been.

Then it was just too much. The wanting that swelled inside Freddie.

The need she felt around Theo—it was just too much, and she couldn’t hold back any longer.

Her eyes closed and she pressed into him, deepening the kiss.

Her tongue flicked out, ever so slightly, and oh, there was that soft sound in his throat, the one she remembered from the old mill. The one he’d made in her dream.

She couldn’t help but match it, and without realizing what she did, her fingers curled into his blazer, and she tugged him closer. Closer. Not close enough.

Today, he tasted like spearmint. Like toothpaste and mouthwash and clean, clean boy.

Theo’s hands moved to Freddie’s hips. To her back. And suddenly they were on her butt… below her butt and lifting her.

She had never straddled a boy before, and she’d certainly never been lifted by one.

But the next thing she knew, Theo was carrying her across the cellar.

It was easily the hottest thing she had ever experienced—and also mildly terrifying.

She was not a particularly small girl, but suddenly she felt Very Small Indeed.

Then her butt landed on the desk, and Theo was kissing her with all the ferocity of the mill.

Her fingers wove into his hair. She cupped his face. Dug into his back. She couldn’t seem to keep her hands in one place, and she couldn’t seem to grab enough of him. Especially when he moaned—like he was doing now—and pushed his whole perfect body against hers.

Then Theo was kissing Freddie’s neck, and she thought she might actually pass out from all the wanting.

Before she could tell him that, though—before she could tell Theo that he made everything inside her spin out of control—someone cleared their throat.

Someone who wasn’t Freddie or Theo.

“Alright,” the voice said. Decidedly male, decidedly older. “That is quite enough, you two.”

Freddie and Theo lurched apart.

It was like they’d suddenly caught fire.

They heard that voice; they sprang apart two feet.

Stop, drop, and roll. Except this fire wasn’t going out.

Freddie was dizzy like she’d inhaled too much smoke, and it took a solid two seconds for her brain to finally, finally process who was standing before her.

It was like being doused in flames all over again—but the bad kind. The mortified kind. Her jaw fell open. “Dr. Born?”

“Freddie?” He sounded even more shocked than she was. He also looked mildly appalled.

More heat charged over Freddie’s body. She smoothed at her shirt. Glanced at Theo—who was clearly as thrown off course as she was. He also looked excruciatingly handsome, with his ruffled hair, busted face, and bright pink lips and cheeks.

Do not look at him, Gellar. Theo was dangerous, dangerous, dangerous. Freddie forced her gaze back to the Unwelcome Counselor. “Why are you here, Dr. Born?”

“Theo was supposed to meet me thirty minutes ago.” He shot a stern frown at Theo. “And I was told he had come down here. But what are you doing here, Freddie?”

“Um… making out?”

Theo choked. Then covered his mouth with his hands, stifling a laugh.

“Yes, I can see that.” Dr. Born rubbed his temples. “And honestly, I don’t care what the two of you do— except when you do it during school hours. Freddie, this isn’t even your school. Are you skipping right now?”

“Define ‘skipping.’”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Dr. Born rubbed his temples twice as hard. Then he glared in the direction of another aisle. “By god, what is that sound?”

Uh-oh, the crickets . New shame swooped through Freddie. The insects were screeching in full force now, and honestly, it was a wonder she hadn’t noticed just how loud they were before.

She and Theo were too good at this whole distraction thing.

Of course, now that Freddie was paying attention, she also realized the car alarm had turned off. Oh, crap, crap, crap . How long had she and Theo been making out?

Freddie slipped Sabrina from her back pocket. Seven missed calls. Oh boy, she was in trouble. “I should probably go,” Freddie murmured, more to Theo than to Dr. Born. “Thanks for your help.”

“Wait.” Theo glanced briefly at Dr. Born before turning the full wattage of his blue eyes onto Freddie. “When can I see you again?”

Yargh. Freddie’s brain inverted, and she desperately wished he hadn’t asked that question—and also that the question wasn’t making her chest swell like a happy balloon. Not only had she broken her vow to Divya, but now she was going to make plans to do so again. She was a terrible best friend.

Despite her utter self-hatred, though, Freddie still couldn’t keep her mouth from saying, “Will you be at your aunt’s for dinner?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.” She smiled shyly. “I could meet you after.”

“Okay” was Theo’s reply, and he offered a tiny smile of his own. Then, before Freddie could turn to go, he added, “Enemies?”

And Freddie couldn’t keep from grinning wide. “In fair Verona.” She yanked her cap off the floor, and after scooping up the duffle bag—which instantly silenced the crickets—she scurried past the Unwelcome Counselor Who Had the Worst Timing Ever.

“Bye, Dr. Born,” she muttered, firmly avoiding eye contact and hoping he wouldn’t say anything.

But of course he did. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you at school yesterday,” he called after her. “We still have one more session, you know.”

“I know,” she trilled, kicking into a jog. “And there is nothing I look forward to more!”

Freddie floated euphorically on a euphoric cloud of euphoria.

She was a Criminal Mastermind, dumping crickets into empty bathrooms and making out with Romeos in dark corners.

And though she wasn’t happy that there was a murderer on the loose who had systematically stolen papers from every local archive, it was undeniably exhilarating for an inquiring mind like hers.

She felt like she was flying as she ran to meet Kyle and Cat. She reached the mausoleum—now lit by the warmth of full sunrise. She caught sight of the sign where Theo had tapped his glorious fingers. The lamppost he’d leaned against like a teen heartthrob.

So lost was Freddie on her cloud nine that she totally forgot about Theo’s earlier warning about a loose brick. Her toes hit it. The paver jiggled. And the next thing she knew, she was flying face-first toward the ground.

Her hands thrust out to catch her, her palms connected with rough stone—and her knees cracked a split second later.

“Owwwwwwww,” she howled, flopping sideways onto the freezing ground.

Her wrists had snapped too hard; the left one in particular was displeased. Also, there was now blood on her palms.

“Awesome, awesome,” she gritted out. “Way to stick that landing, Gellar.” With her right hand, she pushed to sitting.

The stolen uniform was streaked in dirt, and the cap had flown right over the fence and landed on the steps to the mausoleum.

But at least the heavy-duty safety pin had done its job.

No single-boob art would be on display today.

“Sorry,” she offered the nearest bust of Allard Fortin. “I swear it was an accident.”

His glare, unchanged from an hour ago, continued steadily on.

Freddie heaved herself to standing. The duffle bag, now empty, had landed by the sign. She snagged that first, then hopped the low fence and scurried toward the mausoleum. The cap was like a bright red police light. Criminal! it cried. Hoodlum!

As she tipped down to grab it, her eyes caught on the edge of the step before the mausoleum’s door. It was tucked in a shadow, and given that the crypt faced north, that meant it was always tucked in shadow. Which was, no doubt, why Freddie hadn’t spotted this sooner…

There were candles before the door. Three of them. Just squat things made from white wax. Two on the left were melted. One almost all the way to the stone; the other halfway down; meanwhile, the third candle hadn’t been lit at all.

Freddie’s right fingers eased around the red cap.

Her left wrist throbbed. Both of her palms too.

But that was a distant, meaningless signal from a body she was no longer quite attached to.

Her attention had firmly target-locked onto those candles.

Anyone could have put them there. Maybe someone at Fortin Prep was just a little too obsessed with The Craft.

Or maybe it was part of a Halloween display Freddie didn’t know about…

But she also couldn’t help but think of Edgar Fabre and the unhinged ramblings of his probably-lead-poisoned, certainly-unpaid blacksmith ancestor.

Original Fabre had mentioned candles—and how the original settlers of Berme always knew when the Executioners were hunting because three candles would burn near the tolling bell in the Village Square.

Freddie inched forward, her gaze running along the rest of the shadowy door. But there were no other candles, no signs of wax or flame or any marks at all to disrupt the plain stone.

Freddie wet her lips. She really, really wished she had Xena here right now, because what if someone hadn’t thought Original Fabre was insane? What if someone wasn’t just inspired by and copying the alleged methods of execution… but was actually convinced it might be real?

Or, pinged another idea in Freddie’s brain. What if someone wants to make it look like it’s real? The hunting spirits and blood oath? It was a very Scooby-Doo theory but still a thousand times more likely than an actual supernatural ritual happening.

She tipped backward until she could see the belfry atop the crypt.

The bell that Original Fabre had made had gone missing in 1975—and according to the prank book, that act of vandalism had not been Berm High’s doing.

Inexplicably, that bell had wound up in the schoolhouse at the Village Historique, and now here it was again, restored to its original home by Freddie’s mother, and with a replica clapper hanging inside.

This bell could ring.

But this bell hadn’t been what Freddie had heard on Wednesday or Friday—or at least, she didn’t think it could have been.

For one, it was too far for its tolling to have reached her in the forest through all that fog on Wednesday.

For two, on Friday night, the sound had come from the west, not the north.

What am I missing? she thought as she inhaled deep and full. (And as her too-small shirt strained against the safety pin.) Something fully logical had to explain a ringing bell in the county park.

Doodle-loo doo, doodle-loo doo, sang Sabrina. Doodle-loo doo doo!

Freddie flinched. Dropped her red cap again as she wedged the phone to her ear. “Yeah, yeah, hey, Cat. Sorry. I promise I’m on my way. I just fell and busted my wrist—no, I’m fine. I’m just slow. But I’ll be there, okay? Just wait another two minutes, please.”

Freddie hung up. Her eyes lingered one last time on the three candles. Then on the original bell with its replica clapper. Her Answer Finder instincts were going to have to wait; now was the time for escape.

And this time as Freddie jogged away, she made sure to avoid the loose paver.