Page 98 of I Will Break You

I can get Xero some help. Maybe Father Thomas?—

Change of plan. He’d call the police and where would that leave Xero?

Maybe I should go back with a shovel.

My mind is so frantic that it takes a second to notice a man strolling toward me on the walkway. I skid to a halt, swallowing a scream. He’s tall, with the same build as Sparrow.

I dart into a side path to sneak past. Heavy footsteps rush from behind. I whirl around and lock gazes with Wilder. Not wanting to wrestle with a potential ghost, I take a sharp turn.

Blood roars between my ears, muffling the sounds of our footfalls. Sweat prickles my skin, my lungs burn, and my muscles scream for mercy. They’re trying to wear me out, break my spirit. Stop me from claiming the man I love. I slow to conserve energy, but they herd me like sheepdogs away from my house.

Away from Xero.

Moonlight gleams off tombstones as another figure shimmers into existence—Mr. Lawson. Again. Even though I know it’s a hallucination, I avoid him by turning left.

Oh.

Up ahead is the memorial statue I ordered for Xero, paid for by the fan club. It’s a cloaked reaper standing beside a large scroll, holding a scythe. At his back are a pair of wings that stretch down to the monument’s base.

Memories rush back at once. This is where I dragged Jake’s body. At the time, I was blinded by shock, the near-death experience, and the ghost. It didn’t register that I used Xero’s grave. Part of me knew he’d be buried here after the execution, but I was running on pure instinct.

Shit.

“The president finally pays me a visit,” says a deep voice.

I whirl around, finding only the quartet of dead men who herded me to Xero’s grave.

“What do you want?” I ask.

The phantoms step aside, revealing Xero. Only this time, he’s the Grim Reaper from my nightmares. Imposing, as usual, wearing that infernal black cloak.

I blink over and over, wondering if this is another layer of hallucinations. Because how could he have escaped those men?

“You desecrated my grave,” he says.

My heart spasms, not knowing whether to clench out of relief or fear. Seeing him alive is overwhelming, even if his voice shakes with fury.

“But you weren’t even dead,” I reply through rapid breaths.

“That’s not the point,” he snarls.

I walk backward, over the dirt, until my ass hits the edge of the statue. Part of me wants to drop to my knees and beg for forgiveness. The other part wants to scream at him for letting me think he was dead.

He advances on me, the same grim specter that stalked me through the graveyard and nearly drove me insane.

“Amethyst Crowley,” he says in the same tone of voice he used to sentence Dick Johnson to death. “I find you guilty of treachery.”

“But you already punished me,” I reply, my voice trembling. “Please, Xero. I already explained why I wasn’t at the chaplain.”

“Where were you going tonight? I expected you to wait.”

My gaze darts to the rectory, which is barely a hundred feet away. If I scream, Reverend Tom?—

No. If I scream, Xero will kill him. He already warned me what would happen if I flirted with another man. Besides, I don’t want to fight. I want to make things right.

“Answer my question,” he growls.

“I was seeing things” I say, already knowing how stupid it sounds. “Sorry,” I rasp. “I wasn’t thinking. I panicked?—“