Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
There are monitors everywhere. Some scroll through data in incomprehensible languages. Others show images of the street outside, more show images of the apartment down below. There are dozens of them scattered all over. A few are running what look like bot farms, but I can’t figure out what they’re doing.
It’s a fascinating glimpse into Dermot’s world. The place is a mess. Cables are tangled all over the place. But I’m drawn to the back wall, toward the largest of the desks with the most elaborate bank of screens, like something from a movie.
Dermot’s slumped in front of the keyboard. Blood’s everywhere, staining the mouse, the keys, the screens. He must’ve booted his system up at some point. His body is leaning sideways in the chair like he wants to surf the web, but can’t bring himself to do it. I approach, slowly, and Finn tries to hold me back, but I shake myself loose. He’s not happy, but I am.
I slowly turn Dermot’s chair.
My brother stares at me in alarm. He flinches back, lifting one arm. His sudden motion scares the crap out of me. I leap backward and scream. I slam into Finn’s chest and he grabs me, turning his shoulder so he’s protecting me, the gun jammed forward against Dermot’s face.
Dermot lets out a soft, pathetic whimper. “Don’t shoot. Please, don’t do it.”
“Fuck,” I say, shuffling away from Finn’s grip. “Dermot? You’re alive?”
He groans and looks down at himself. “Yeah, I’m alive. I think… I think I’m going to be okay. For a while I was bleeding… but it slowed. Malachy tried to kill me, but I had on Kevlar. That mostly stopped the knife.” He laughs, his expression wild. “Still got me though. Hurt like crazy. I’ve never been stabbed before.”
“I have,” Finn murmurs, still pointing the gun at him.
“What happened?” I kneel down in front of Dermot and take his hand. He looks confused, but he doesn’t pull away. I think he’s grateful that there’s someone here to help him. The poor guy. He’s never been good at taking care of himself.
“Mal went berserk. You should’ve seen it. He just lost his mind.”
“Tell me from the start.”
“Shit, Caroline. I need a doctor. I need stitches probably.” He grimaces as he shows me the wound. It’s a jagged slice down his side and it’s slowly oozing, but not too bad. “How’d you know I was here?”
“We found Mom.”
Dermot’s skin pales more. “Oh. You did?”
“She’s dead.”
He doesn’t look surprised, which confirms it for me. If I wasn’t sure, I am now.
“Malachy. He totally went nuts. Seriously, Caroline, the guy’s a nutjob. He broke into my place and started screaming about guns, about me stockpiling weapons to move against him. Which is crazy! I don’t even want to run our stupid family! I only hired those security guys because someone’s trying to kill us!” He stares at me and glances at Finn. The gun’s still aimed at his face. “Would you, uh, lower that? And maybe call an ambulance?”
Finn doesn’t move. He barely even reacts.
“Dermot, why would Mom get hurt? You and Mal were fighting, right?”
He looks back at me. “Uh, right, but she tried to get in the middle, and Mal was, like, being a total psycho. Just stabbing everything. And I guess he, uh, stabbed Mom by accident… and you know, just kept going… he couldn’t control himself. He didn’t mean to kill her. I think.”
He licks his lips and glances to the side. I follow his gaze and lean across him, but he grabs at me.
Finn whips forward. Dermot grunts in alarm and pain as the butt of Finn’s gun cracks across his jaw. My brother releases me and I nearly fall into a tangle of wires, my hand grabbing down on something hard and sticky.
My heart throbs crazily. I push more wires aside. Finn wheels Dermot back, the gun pressed against my brother’s skull, as I dig into the mess. It’s sticky and gross…
And there, buried, is a knife, drenched in blood. I grab it by the handle and slowly lift it out. The blade gleams with red as I turn.
Dermot’s watching with terror in his eyes.
“What is this?” I ask him gently.
“Mal left it! Mal did it, I swear!” He’s looking around like he’s trying to find an escape, but there are only piles of computer junk and broken hardware scattered all over his cluttered lair.
“Why would Mal leave his own knife here? Why would he bury it under a bunch of cables and crap on your desk?”
“He was… he was… trying to frame me!”
It’s a funny idea, considering that’s exactly what we were trying to do to him.
I lower the blade so it’s aimed at his chest. “Mal knew I’d come here and find it. And you just left it there?”
Dermot’s mouth opens, but nothing comes out. He looks at me for a long moment, panic bouncing across his expression, before he finally breaks down.