Chapter 80: The List

Chapter 80: The List

Day Nine. Kyle sat in the chair with the door locked. Three knives pressed against his lower back in a row—the two originals and the short blade he'd taken, their metal edges digging into his spine through his shirt. He hadn't slept. His hands lay flat on his knees. His phone lit up on the coffee table.

A message from Seer. [He's coming tonight. Alone. He has the list.]

[What time.]

[He didn't say. He said you don't need to wait up. He'll come find you.]

Kyle set the phone down. He stood and walked to the kitchen, poured a glass of water, and drank it standing by the window. Outside, darkness. The streetlights illuminated an empty Maple Street. He set the glass down and walked to the mantel. The key, the birth certificate, the crayon box, the textbook—all arranged in a row. He stared at them for a moment without touching anything, then returned to his seat.

Ten o'clock. Headlights turned the corner, their beam sweeping across the steps. The sound of brakes. A car door opened and closed. Footsteps came from the corner, dress shoes on asphalt, each step slow and deliberate. They stopped at the door. Three heavy knocks.

Kyle stood and walked to the door, his hand on the knob. Cold. He opened it. Klaus stood at the bottom of the steps in a gray suit and blue tie, his hair neatly combed. In his right hand, a manila envelope. His left hung at his side, empty. The streetlight caught half his face; the other half remained in shadow.

"Raven. I'm here."

Kyle said nothing.

Klaus raised the envelope. "The list. The original. Your daughter's name is on it."

"What do you want?"

"A trade. The list for your key. I'm done gambling."

Kyle's hand moved to the knife at his back. Klaus took a step forward. Kyle drew the blade, tip pointing down. Klaus took another step. The tip pressed against his stomach, piercing the suit, stopping at his belt. Klaus glanced down, then looked up and took another step. The tip penetrated skin. Blood welled up, spreading red across his white shirt. Kyle could feel the blade meeting resistance—the wall of the abdominal cavity. Sweat broke out on Klaus's forehead. A vein pulsed at his temple. But he didn't retreat.

"You stab me, the list is void. Your daughter is safe."

Kyle gripped the handle, his knuckles white, but he didn't push further.

"You won't dare." Klaus's breathing was uneven, but his voice held steady. "Because you don't know if the list will be mailed out if I die. You can't afford that gamble."

He stepped back deliberately. The blade withdrew from his stomach, bringing blood with it. He pressed his hand to the wound. Blood leaked between his fingers, dripping to the ground. He looked down at it, then wiped the blood on his suit.

"I surrender. The list is yours. The key is mine. We're even."

Kyle turned and walked to the mantel, picked up the key, and closed his fist around it. As he turned back, his gaze caught Klaus's left hand reaching behind his back. Kyle's knife was already out, the tip pressed against Klaus's wrist.

"Don't move."

Klaus's hand froze mid-air. Kyle shoved the key into his palm and took the envelope. The blade's tip traced a line across Klaus's wrist. Blood beaded up. Klaus didn't wipe it. He stuffed the key into his pocket.

Kyle stepped back and tore open the envelope. The printed page listed A1 through A17. A7 was followed by Irene's name. The last line bore Amy's name. He stared at it for several seconds, folded the paper, and tucked it into his pocket against his heart.

"We're even."

Klaus held his stomach and watched him for a long moment. "You won." He turned and descended the steps, stumbled slightly, braced himself against the car door while catching his breath, then got in. The engine started. The headlights turned the corner and disappeared. A pool of blood remained on the ground, dripping from the steps to the middle of the street. Dark red.

Kyle slid the knife back behind his waist. He crouched down and touched the blood with his fingertip. Still warm. He stood, went inside, closed the door, and locked it. He returned to his seat. His hands rested on his knees, Klaus's blood staining the web between his thumb and forefinger. It had dried, settling into the lines of his palm.

Irene came down from upstairs wearing a gray sweater. She walked to the table. Kyle pulled out the list and placed it on the surface. She picked it up and studied it for a long time.

"The list. Amy's name is on it."

"Yes."

She set the list down. Kyle took it back, folded it, and returned it to his pocket.

"Kyle. Was he hurt?"

"He walked into it himself. He surrendered."

She nodded. Kyle stared at the door. Closed. Locked. Klaus had taken the key and left the list. He'd won. Three knives pressed against his lower back, hard and cold. The blood on his hand wouldn't wipe off. He glanced down at it, then turned his palm face-up. Empty. He'd won. Sitting. Door closed. The night stretched ahead.