My Maddie (Hades Hangmen #8)(22)

“Die,” I hissed, my words slurred, even to my ears. But they kept coming. Next were the hoard of Mexicans Smiler and I had killed most recently, shuffling toward me, their insides bared, faces sunken and sallow, death eating at them like a greedy parasite.

And then I saw him. I fucking saw Slash, head wounded, blood spattering his face and body. His eyes never left mine. My fucking chest cracked at seeing my best friend like this. He moved to sit beside me, studying the men still coming my way. My hands were shaking feeling him so close. I tried to tell myself that none of these people were real, that Slash was buried, already across the River Styx with Hades. But I felt his ice-cold breath on my cheek. I heard him wheezing, struggling for the breath that would to bring him back to life. “Kill them,” he whispered into my ear. The world tilted to the side as he spoke. I was so fucking drunk. So, fucking over everything, I no longer cared.

I coughed hard. My lungs were blackened and fucked with the amount of smoke I was pushing inside them. Every day I drank and smoked. Every day I fucking lost another piece of my mind. I was convinced that by now there was little left to lose. I was quickly following Smiler into the abyss.

Nothing helped. Nothing blocked out the ghosts.

Suddenly, Saffie’s face flashed into my fucked up mind. To her sat near me under the bleachers at school. Next to her, the anger fell away like the ash from the end of my cigarette. Next to her, in her tight jeans and sweater, everything was fucking comfortably numb. But no sooner had her face filled my mind, than it disappeared.

“Kill them, Ash,” Slash’s graveled voice ordered, his bloodied index finger pointing at the men closing in. “Kill the fuckers that killed me.” He paused, inhaled a crackled, stuttering breath. He smiled; his teeth painted with stale red blood. “You need to avenge me, Ash. Never stop until all of them are dead. Kill them in my name… you owe me, Ash. This should have been you.”

I squeezed my eyes closed, feeling my throat choke on guilt and fucking regret. I would do it for him. I had to. It was the right thing to do. I needed to kill, blood for blood, for the life of my best friend. Reaching into my jacket, I took hold of my gun. It felt heavy in my hand. It always felt fucking heavy, like I wasn’t meant to have it in my hands.

I knew they weren’t real, these men. I knew Slash wasn’t there. Ghosts weren’t fucking real. Yet they never left me. Every time I closed my eyes they were there. They were there to remind me of a stark truth—Slash’s death should have been mine. The fucking Reaper on my back was guiding my shooting hand, making sure I paid the penance for my friend dying in my place.

“Kill,” Slash ordered, his voice hard in its command. His was voice was deeper now than when he was alive. Now, it was laced with venom. His bloodied hand pressed on my shoulder, burning through my clothes and scalding my skin underneath. Slash’s hand took hold of my elbow and lifted my gun. He helped me aim it at the first body I saw. Placing my finger on the trigger, I fired. The shot raced out into the quiet and still forest, echoing like thunder among the leaves. Sleeping birds and flying bats scattered, taking to the night sky like rockets. I kept firing. One by one the ghosts dropped to the ground, shot down for now. But they wouldn’t stay there. They’d come back. They always fucking came back.

I took down line after line of bloodied and dead-eyed men, until the last one had fallen just an inch from my feet. As he hit the ground, disappearing into the high grass and weeds that surrounded me, I felt Slash’s hand fall away. He’d be back though, haunting my fucking dreams, ordering me to make shit right in his name.

I didn’t know how to make anything right.

A noise from my left made me roll my head to that side. I was fucking tired, but I never slept. They all came back when I slept. What was I thinking? Awake or asleep, they were always there, building in numbers every week. They were a motherfucking army commanded by my guilt.

The sound of safeties being pulled thundered around me. “Fuck me, Ash!” I narrowed my eyes trying to work out who had spoken. I recognized the voice, but my slow and whiskey-fucked brain couldn’t think fast enough to remember. Three blurry figures came into view. AK was at the front. He always was, the famed sniper ready to rid the Hangmen of their enemies. But he hadn’t killed Diego, and Diego had killed Slash. It was dark and my eyesight was shit, but I knew Viking and Flame were behind him. The three of them were always together.

“Jacking off in the woods, mini Flame?” Viking said. When his face appeared from the darkness, he was smirking. Fucker was always smirking. AK dropped down beside me and yanked the gun from my hand.

“Give me that the fuck back!” I spat, and drunkenly fell on my side as I tried to grab it back.

“Fucked again, Ash?” AK asked tiredly and ran his hand down his face. “You get that some fuckers are messing with us, right? That we’re all keeping watch in case they’re more than pissants testing their luck against us?” I pushed myself into a sitting position and looked out into the trees. I wanted to tell AK and my brother about the men I’d shot in the grass, that Slash was somewhere close, fucking with my brain, but my mouth wouldn’t work. The darkness that was growing inside me smothered my lungs and brain like a fungus, fucking taking control of everything I was. It wasn’t letting go of me. It had me shackled, sinking its talons into my chest, poisoning me with uncontrollable rage.

“The bitches are losing their shit back in the cabins. Saffie is hiding in her room. She wasn’t great after coming home from school, and now she’s hunkered up under her desk believing people are coming for her.” My stomach coiled. She was the one person I never wanted to scare. The darkness began to dig into my bones, infecting the marrow. Everything inside me was becoming tinged with blackness. But I hung on to her face in my mind’s eye. I hung on to her with everything I had.