Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“How about you? Do you live with your brother?”
I’m surprised that he’d care, but I pour myself some water from the bottle in the middle of the table and take a sip. “Technically. He divides most of his time between New York, Austin, and LA. But he visits me almost every month,” I say, stumbling over the last word when Nico folds his sleeves, once again revealing the thick forearms. They look as strong as they felt.
He carves the turkey for us with the proficiency I’d expect from someone who claims to cook it once a month. I’m reminded of the saw cutting through my abductor’s neck and strangely enough, now that I’m removed from the situation, the memory doesn’t even make me lose my appetite. What if something’s wrong with me too? I’ve always kept the extent of my interest in true-crime from my brother, because I know it’s a bit morbid, and I don’t want him to worry for no good reason, but I think my tolerance for seeing violence is higher than most people’s.
“Oh, so you’re not close?” Nico asks and puts a generous pile of mashed potatoes on both plates. “Are you out to him? Or did he not know what club you went to?”
I stick my finger in the hot potatoes and bring some to my mouth. They’re creamy, soft, and so heavenly I find myself grunting. “Um… no no, we are close! We often send each other memes and stuff. And he knows I’m gay. Other people aren’t lucky to have such accepting families, but he was actually the one to help me get the fake ID. Said it would be better if I got to meet other gay men in real life rather than online.”
Nico places a feast-on-a-plate in front of us both, takes off the apron and lights a few candles on the table.
I think my hormones are messing with me after the ordeal I’ve been through so far, because my chest gets all warm and fuzzy. Who would have thought the Christmas Killer could treat me to a better dinner than my own family?
“So first he won’t let you go to a regular high school, and then he sets you loose at a gay nightclub?” Nico raises his eyebrows but clinks his own glass of water with mine.
I stall. “I mean, I’m eighteen now. I know better. He thinks I’m ready,” I say and dig in, humming in pleasure as I try the juicy meat. Nico is an excellent cook, I’ll give him that.
“Do you know better?” he asks with a devilish glint in his eyes, reminding me that he’s a predator. And yet the atmosphere around us is so cozy I’m relaxed. Maybe too relaxed.
Maybe this is a trap, and he’s trying to fatten me up a bit for next year’s Christmas?
Still, when I see the spark in his eye, heat flashes down my body, and I shrug. “Probably not, considering I accepted a drink from a perfect stranger. What do you think?”
“I think we need to find out who is trying to kill you so you can enjoy the life you deserve, and I hope I’ll be a part of that life.”
Uh-oh. That’s crazy, passes through my head, but I force my features to remain unchanged as I listen. He focuses on the plate in front of him and flushes as if he were getting to spend time with his favorite celebrity.
With no input from me, Nico goes on, “You… you’ve been with me for a while now. As in, your podcast. I really love how much attention you pay to detail and how much you dig into a killer’s psyche. I might have discovered a few things about myself that way. When you recounted some of my kills, the ones of known criminals, I got a bit of a thrill from how much you seemed to enjoy the righteous justice.”
A shiver runs down my spine, because he’s right. I never say it openly, because I don’t want to deal with haters claiming I’m a bad person like a certain colleague of mine, but I’m not entirely against someone taking out people who are evil to the bone.
Many would say it’s not up to me to decide who deserves death and who does not, but the way I see it, someone who tortures, kills, or hurts others for some kind of self-gratification should not be treated as a person. They’re beasts that deserve being put down. So yes, I might not outright say that, but Nico must have read that between the lines and understood, because it’s an opinion he shares.
Knowing that every single person he killed was an evil creature without a shred of humanity deep in their heart offers me a new perspective on the Christmas Killer, and I almost want to reveal it to the world. “Why don’t you make it clear why they died? Your victims, I mean.”