Page 48 of The Executioners Three
Snow-crusted leaves crunched beneath Freddie’s feet. Frozen leaves too, while branches snapped and cracked and tore. Each breath was a harsh boom in her skull, a harsh burn inside her lungs.
There was no one outside the archives hut—one small win, Freddie supposed. Divya and the Prank Squad must have gotten away, and maybe by now they were at the Village placing another phone call.
Luis was the fastest on the cross-country team, right?
Since Freddie’s hands were free and her body warmer, it made ascending the streambed toward the Village easier. Although hardly easy . Nothing looked quite right at this hour. The snow hid dips and rises, and she was pretty sure she’d lost one of her contact lenses.
Or maybe she had a concussion.
Or maybe this was just what happened when the body got slugged with hit after hit of adrenaline.
Either way, the left half of the world was blurry and Freddie deeply regretted ever returning Lance Bass to Divya.
None of this would have happened if she’d only kept that freaking keychain a few days longer.
Four times, she almost tripped. And once, she did trip, landing on her shoulder with a woof of bright pain and slash of frozen cold.
Then Freddie got back up again and continued on. She had to. She couldn’t stop. She couldn’t slow. All she could do was pretend she didn’t notice the stink gathering in the air. That she didn’t see flames in her periphery…
Her footsteps faltered. That was Sheriff Bowman on the left. Freddie didn’t need both contacts to recognize the shape of her hero. Nor to see a rope of fire dragging behind as Bowman took incomprehensibly large steps.
At the exact same distance on Freddie’s right was Laina, a burning axe in hand. Because why not? That was totally normal stuff. Definitely not supernatural.
Seriously? said a small Fox Mulder on Freddie’s left shoulder. How much proof do you need, Gellar? We have left the confines of science!
No, no, no, insisted a miniature Dana Scully. There’s always a reason rooted in nature. You just haven’t found the reason yet.
Or, came the lizard part of Freddie’s brain, maybe it doesn’t matter what’s actually happening and you just should really focus on staying alive?
Heat radiated through the forest in waves—and with it was the rotting air. It grated against Freddie’s neck like a tightening rope. It shoved down her throat like blades. And it gave Freddie no choice but to keep on running.
She reached the path into the Village. The same path Luis had jogged down only five days ago before giving Freddie an unexpected greeting. There was the blacksmith’s hut ahead, modeled after Original Fabre’s smithy.
Which wow, Freddie had never hated the old blacksmith more—and honestly, she was glad there was still bird poop on his sign. After all, it was his stupid diary that had gotten Edgar Senior all riled up enough to publish “the truth,” and that failure had in turn gotten Junior all riled up.
She thundered past. Here was the old schoolhouse, no fairy lights twinkling in the cupola. Only the broken replica bell to creak, creak, creak on the wind.
Freddie lost sight of Laina. Only Bowman remained in view, stalking through with ghostly, intangible flames that melted nothing and sparked no trees.
Bowman was speaking now too, her voice as loud and clear as if she stood right next to Freddie. She murmured: Libérez-nous. Libérez-nous.
That was when Freddie noticed light shining ahead. A stage light, as if the Lumberjack Pageant were about to begin, and soon a bunch of teens in 1600s garb would start talking about Allard Fortin and his generosity.
Freddie rounded the school into the Village Square—where yes, a stage light was indeed turned on. And fixed right onto Theo.
Because of course it was Theo. It really was just like Freddie’s dreams.
Dreams came again, she thought, remembering what her dad had written. Always the same. The Village Historique. Ghosts hunting.
Why had Dad had those dreams? Why had Freddie? Was it their instincts interpreting data faster than their logical minds could keep up? Or was there truly a supernatural force at work here?
WHO CARES? Freddie’s lizard brain screamed. STOP TRYING TO LOGIC THIS OUT, GELLAR! GET TO THE PHONE.
Freddie did not get to the phone. Instead, she pumped her legs faster and aimed right for the stage.
Right for Theo. Her feet felt like wheels beneath her.
Like she wasn’t attached to them at all and they were just rolling her ever onward.
The steps onto the stage were so close. The same steps she and Theo had skipped up while Fortin students had teased.
While Mr. Binder had barked orders about where to stand and what to say…
Freddie wished she had a script now. She wished she weren’t relying on some completely insane dream in total contradiction to nature, filled with starlight and flames and Theo.
The stage light flickered the closer she got. Then tore off in a brutal whoomp right as Freddie hit the first step. Freddie didn’t stop her approach. Not when the stink of rotten organs was thick enough to crawl down into her belly. Nor when she saw Laina and Bowman swerving closer on either side.
She just hauled up the steps. “Theo,” she rasped. “Theo, look at me.”
He didn’t look at her. He stood there, completely still and cast in shadow. The sets around him made dark shapes—a tree, a hut, that stupid pole for “chopping down.” Or, Freddie realized, for disemboweling.
Wind slid over Theo, pulling at the hair Freddie had run her fingers through only hours ago. He looked the same—unhurt, thank god. But empty. There was no consciousness in his eyes. No reaction when she slung to a stop and clutched at his arms.
He was colder than Freddie. Colder than the snow.
“Theo,” she said again, her words coiling with steam. “Please, answer me.” She reached for his face, still broken. Still beautiful.
But he offered no response. This was not the Theo Porter of her dreams. He didn’t acknowledge her or say, Take it. Only you know how to break it.
Instead, Laina and Bowman were stalking in closer. Closer. To the stage now. On the stage. Libérez-nous. Libérez-nous. Their voices rushed out, layered like a hundred souls whispering at once. Bouncing and sliding around Freddie, probing beneath her skin and into her spine.
“Theo,” Freddie said once more, and this time, she rose onto her toes and kissed him. Exactly like the dream. Exactly like their pageant practice when everything had changed between them.
But Theo didn’t lean in; he didn’t make a small sigh.
A screech split the night: “You give counselors a bad name!”
Freddie whipped around, adrenaline surging into her bloodstream all over again… only to immediately run dry. Because there was Dr. Born, and walking before him with her hands held high was Divya. Her eyes were huge and white in the shadows. She didn’t look scared, so much as pissed .
“I hope my dad didn’t pay you much,” she seethed as Born pushed her toward the stage. “And I definitely expect you to give him a refund.”
Dr. Born looked just as pissed as Divya with foam all over his puffer jacket and face. It blended his beard into his skin into his hair. Only his eyes were clear, that dark, piercing brown that Freddie had first noticed in the principal’s office.
He didn’t look like Ross from Friends anymore.
“Let her go.” Freddie lurched for the end of the stage. “You don’t need her, Dr. Born.”
“No,” Dr. Born agreed with a glimmer of a smile. “I don’t.”
“What do you want from her, then?”
Divya was at the stage steps. Up, up, up. Now she was on the stage and tottering toward Freddie. “I’m sorry.” Her fury was giving way to horror. “I stayed back to help you, but I’ve only made it worse.”
“Let her go,” Freddie repeated as she tugged Divya behind her—and forced Dr. Born to train his weapon on Freddie instead.
Which she could see now, very clearly, was a handgun. A familiar one, actually, that she was almost certain had come from Sheriff Bowman’s holster.
Freddie suspected Dr. Born wouldn’t appreciate being told he needed a license for that.
“Please, let Divya go, Dr. Born. You can have me . Just like you originally planned.”
“No, no.” Dr. Born ambled closer, his own fury settling into something more like amusement. Freddie could see every streak from the fire extinguisher’s foam. Every blister, where the chemical had wrecked his skin. His eyes were bloodshot too, as if spiderwebs spindled across the sockets.
“I’ve gotten really skilled at making deaths look like accidents, so no, Freddie. I won’t let Divya go, because I don’t need to.”
“Accidents?” Freddie blinked. “You mean… you didn’t want people to notice the murders?” There went Freddie’s entire theory, then.
“I didn’t.” Dr. Born gave a crooked, almost rueful smile.
“At least, not right away. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a hanging, a beheading, and a disemboweling all lined up in a row without getting arrested?
You have to find the perfect victims that no one will miss.
You have to kill them here, where the original Executioners were buried.
And then it all has to happen in the right order within a matter of days; otherwise, you have to start all over again.
“I learned that the hard way many years ago. Trial and error.” He laughed now, a bright, happy sound. “I couldn’t let a pesky little police investigation disrupt my plans. But now, here I am. So close to finally finishing.”
“Finishing what?” Think, Gellar. Think. Stall for time. Maybe if she could get Divya to move all the way to the back edge of the stage, then Divya could duck behind the curtain and run.
It was at least worth trying.
“You only need one more victim, right?” Freddie continued. “So take me and let Divya go. Then let Theo go too. Please.” As Freddie made this plea yet again, she nudged at her best friend, shoving her in the general direction of backward and away .