I Don't Want To Kill You by Dan Wells Page A

interests, I had no life but the one I could never share with anyone. The only thing I ever thought about. ‘I think Forman was a demon.’
     
    ‘A what?’
     
    ‘I know he was,’ I said, taking another step forward. ‘So was the Clayton Killer.’ No one knew it was Mr Crowley. ‘And I think the new one is too.’
     
    ‘A demon?’ said Brooke. ‘Like, a literal demon, like with horns and a tail and all that?’
     
    ‘I think that’s a devil,’ I said. ‘I think demons just look like us.’
     
    ‘What are you talking about?’
     
    ‘That’s not the point – I mean, it’s not a real demon, not technically, but it’s some kind of . . . like a monster, like a real monster. Like in a movie or something.’
     
    She was staring at me, her jaw wide open and her brow furrowed in concern. ‘John, are you okay?’
     
    I shouldn’t have said anything – I was usually so much smarter, so much more careful. Why did I think she would have any idea what I was talking about?
     
    ‘Did you see anything when we were in the house with Forman?’ I asked. ‘Did you notice anything weird about him?’ Why did I keep talking?
     
    ‘Monsters aren’t real, John,’ she said. She looked worried. ‘Do you need to sit down?’
     
    ‘No, I’m fine. Listen, I’m fine, just forget it, okay?’ I felt like I was drowning. ‘That was just a crazy story, you know? Just a . . . just a joke.’ I took a step back. ‘I’ll see you around.’ I turned and walked quickly towards my house.
     
    ‘John, wait.’
     
    I ignored her, never turning or slowing or breathing until I made it home and got inside and locked the door behind me.
     

Chapter 6
     
    The Mayor’s body arrived in the mortuary on the first day of school, early in the morning as I was getting ready to leave. Dead bodies keep to their own schedule: a body decays at the same rate every time, no matter who it is, no matter how important it is, no matter how long the FBI studies it for evidence. The Mayor had been dead for a week now, and there wasn’t much time left to embalm it if the family wanted a viewing. When the body showed up early in the morning like this it meant that the Coroners had stayed up all night finishing their autopsy – running final checks, performing a final cleaning, and dotting all the i’s on their paperwork. The funeral was only one day away. We had very little time to work with.
     
    I stayed in the kitchen, wolfing down my breakfast until finally the Coroner left, and then I ran downstairs like a shot. Mom was getting washed up, and I walked over casually to join her.
     
    ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she asked.
     
    ‘Helping.’
     
    ‘Not during school hours,’ she said. ‘You’ve got to leave in just a few minutes.’
     
    ‘Then I have a few minutes,’ I said. ‘Let me help get you started.’
     
    Mom paused, watching me, then sighed. ‘Did you eat your cereal?’
     
    ‘Yes.’
     
    ‘And you washed your bowl?’
     
    ‘Yes,’ I lied. I hadn’t really, but she wouldn’t know that until it was too late.
     
    ‘Wash your hands, then,’ she said, turning back to the sink. ‘The last thing Mayor Robinson needs is raisin bran in his chest cavity.’
     
    I crowded up next to her and washed eagerly, then pulled on an apron, a mask and a pair of sterile rubber gloves. We unzipped the body bag and pulled it off, catching a powerful whiff of cleansers and disinfectants from the autopsied corpse.
     
    ‘Let’s hope the fan doesn’t give out,’ I said.
     
    ‘Margaret’s on her way,’ said Mom.
     
    ‘I can stay until she gets here,’ I offered, but Mom shook her head and looked at the clock.
     
    ‘You can stay for four more minutes, then it’s off to school.’
     
    ‘Smelling like a corpse.’
     
    Mom sniffed the air and laughed. ‘You’ll smell like detergent, and most people don’t connect that smell to corpses. Just tell everyone you cleaned the bathroom this