Duncan was laughing. Screeching and bellowing as if he’d finally lost his fucking mind.
I dropped to my knees beside Calvin and reached over his chest. His right side was wet and warm, and he made another pained sound at my touch.
“Oh God,” I whispered when my hands came up covered in blood. I was shaking so badly, I could barely control my limbs. “Cal? Oh God, oh God.” I yanked my jacket off and pressed it down against the bullet wound.
Stop the bleeding. Put as much pressure on it as you could.
“That’s what you deserve, you son of a bitch, disgustingpig!” Duncan was screaming. “Sebastian! Don’t touch Sebastian! Don’t touchTamerlane! It’s mine, mine, mine!” He waved his gun at us.
I looked down at Calvin. “Please,” I whispered. I needed to call for help. He wasn’t going to make it. I reached down and gripped his hand tight.
“Sebastian!” Duncan shouted.
I looked up.
“Get away from him!”
“Duncan, put the fucking gun down!” I cried. “You shot him—aren’t you happy now? Put it down!”
“Get away from him!” he shouted again. “BringTamerlane!”
I glanced at my coat, which was soaking up Calvin’s blood, before digging inside to remove the pamphlet. It was covered in blood. Priceless to worthless. “Is this what you fucking want?” I raised it up and tore it in two.
“No!” Duncan screamed. “No, no, no! Sebastian!What have you done!”
He was going to kill us both.
When Duncan raised his gun again, I dropped the book and grabbed Calvin’s fallen pistol. I’d never touched a gun before, and the weight was cold and deadly. All I knew was aim and pull the trigger.
So I did.
The kickback was strong, and I dropped the pistol out of fright. The crack was so loud, like thunder had struck my brain. While my ears hummed and buzzed, I watched Duncan drop to the ground.
I had no idea where I’d struck him. Didn’t even realize I would be able to hit him. But what if he were okay? He still had his gun.
I stumbled to my feet, tripping over myself as my legs refused to function. I moved closer to Duncan and looked at him warily. He had blood running from his mouth, but his lips were still moving, saying something I didn’t care to hear.
I picked up his gun and ran back to Calvin.
“Cal! Cal! Don’t you fucking die, do you hear me?” I begged when I got back on my knees beside him. “Cal?” I shook him hard. “Calvin!”
I reached into his coat, took out his cell, and called 911. I told the dispatcher a policeman had been shot and gave the cross streets.
The wait for the ambulance was the longest five minutes of my life.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to end.
Chapter Fifteen
MY KNOWLEDGEthat Duncan Andrews was the killer was based on nothing but circumstantial evidence at best. It was my gut that told me, like when he mentioned loving Poe when we first met. His adoration of literature, and the roses he’d brought me at the diner, which were identical to the ones left in my shop. Especially the comment about my eyes, which I learned was from Poe’s poem, “A Valentine.” Nothing but circumstantial evidence.
Thank God I was right.
Not that it fucking mattered.
I needed to see Calvin, but no one would let me. When the ambulance came to pick him up, I wasn’t allowed to go with him. When I went to the hospital myself, I was turned away. I wasn’t a cop. I wasn’t family.
So scram.
