I find myself shooting to my feet, still squeezing the phone in my right hand.
“I don’t want you to do it either,” I blurt out as he collects the small, furry creature in gentle hands and holds it against his chest. Maxx strokes his right hand over the rabbit’s ears, flattening them against its delicate skull. It’d be quick, and easy, to end the bunny’s life. In the scheme of things, it wouldn’t exactly stop the world from spinning.
But it would change my world entirely. It would end the bunny’s. It would cause a seismic shift in someone as kind as Maxx.
“What do you want to do then?” he asks me, carefully stroking the rabbit’s head as he watches me. I start to pace, lifting the phone to my lips and tapping it against my mouth.
If it came down to it, between Parrish and the rabbit, of course I’d choose him.
But I really, really don’t want to have to do that. If I give up everything about myself in the pursuit of Parrish, then there won’t be anything of Dakota Banks left to give him when he comes back. I’ll have sacrificed myself in exchange for him.
That isn’t the Slayer’s goal though, is it? He’s mentioned more than once that I need to ask for the things I want, that I think too much about others and not enough about myself.
“The text is worded in just such a way to put distance myself and the actual act of killing.”
Maxx raises his brows as I continue to pace, mulling the words over in my head.
“Until a bunny lies dead at the bottom of that cage,” I breathe, looking up at Maxx again. “So we just need a dead bunny to put inside the cage, right?”
“Without you ever having left the cabin,” X clarifies, thinking on the subject for a minute. “But how do we get a dead bunny without killing one? Isn’t the result the same either way?”
“Not really,” I argue, shooting a quick text over to Chasm. “There are certain lines that should never be crossed; this is one of them.” I look back up at X, but he doesn’t seem convinced. “Pet stores sell frozen rabbits for captive snakes. If Chas can bring us one of those, we’re golden. There’s a bunny lying dead in the bottom of the cage, just as I was instructed. It isn’t my fault if the Slayer isn’t more careful with his words.”
“And if you’re wrong?” Maxx queries, staring down at the bunny. I can see it in his face, that strange, twisted morality that Chasm mentioned. If I don’t convince him right here and now, he will snap that rabbit’s neck to save Parrish. I’m not sure how I feel about that. “Parrish dies because of a bunny.”
“Parrish will not die over this,” I confirm, feeling some of my self-confidence and control come back. These last few weeks have been … gods, they’ve been awful, but I can’t let myself get lost in the minutiae. I have to remember why I’m doing this. A response comes from Chasm almost immediately.
I’ll be there in thirty or less.
“Let’s check out the rest of the house; I’d never forgive myself if I found out we were walking on top of Parrish this whole time.” I take the bunny from Maxx’s arms and cuddle it close while he watches me. I can see that he’s torn on this. He wants to trust me, but he doesn’t know if it’s worth the risk.
To be fair, if he’s right and I’m wrong, the consequences are unimaginable.
“Okay, Kota,” he says finally, and I heave a sigh of relief. He reaches up a hand, like he’s about to tuck some lime-green hair behind my ear and then redirects his course at the last minute, giving the rabbit a scratch behind the ears instead.
The bunny’s presence in this house gives us a much-needed clue.
The Slayer—or his minion, Amin Volli—was here.
So is the Slayer the houseguest that Chasm’s father mentioned? I look around the carefully made-up room as chills creep up my spine like a ghost’s wicked cold fingers. Was he in here, my bio dad? Did he sleep in this bed? Did he walk these halls?
With a shake of my head, I push away the thought and put the bunny back in its cage. Maxx is already at the closet, tearing things out and throwing them on the floor. I give him a look.
“Clearly, the guest that was staying here is gone or else the Slayer is the guest,” he tells me, almost apologetically. “He can clean up the fucking mess.” X doesn’t alter his course, tearing apart the room. But he has a good point.
I move into the next room and do the same, checking under the bed, in the closet, opening the attic access in the hallway and climbing up to peer inside.
