A Change of Worlds
Book 5 of the Killian Kendall Mysteries
By Josh Aterovis
Copyright 2026
Chapter 29
Several hours later, I was deeply regretting my resolve. I was feeling worse than ever and my lack of sleep was catching up to me with a vengeance. My eyes felt so heavy that it was a supreme battle to keep them open. I was definitely losing the fight.
I sat up straighter and drew in a deep breath, hoping the cool air would revive me, but I was beyond help. I stared into the darkness for a few minutes before my eyelids began to droop once again. The effort of keeping them open was becoming too much.
I was almost to the point of giving in and taking a short nap when I sensed a presence nearby.
My eyes snapped open, and my heart jumped into my throat.
At first, I didn't see anything. I was about to pass it off as a dream when a dark figure detached itself from a tree and moved towards me. I was half expecting it to be Jacy, so when he stepped out of the shadows and I recognized White Deer, I almost gasped. He looked more ghostly than ever in the silver moonlight. He held up a hand, warning me to stay silent.
He stopped in front of me, then crouched down and pressed his hand over my eyes. A kaleidoscope of images exploded in my mind — lightning striking a lone tree in a shower of sparks, a hawk dropping from the sky to snatch its prey, a fire blazing across a marsh — some of them flashing by too quickly for me to comprehend. None of them made sense, though they were all strangely exhilarating.
Then suddenly everything stopped, and I was left with the vision of an albino buck racing through a forest.
"Be vigilant," White Deer whispered into my ear as he removed his hand from my face. When I opened my eyes, I was alone — or at least, the shaman was nowhere to be seen.
The bizarre experience left me energized with a burst of adrenaline. Was it simply White Deer's way of keeping me awake, or was it something more? Was it a warning of some sort? If so, I wished he'd been clearer.
I heard someone else approaching the clearing. Was White Deer returning? Or had Jacy ignored my instructions and come out to keep me company?
A figure stepped into the moonlight, and for a moment I thought it was yet another spirit coalescing from the shadows. Then I realized it was in fact a flesh-and-bone person dressed all in black. He stood at the edge of the trees, looking around as if to see whether he was alone. After a minute, he began to pace.
I didn’t move for fear of making a noise and alerting him to my presence.
I wished I could see his face, but it was dark and he kept his head down. There was something about him that seemed familiar, though. It wasn't until some small night sound caused him to stop and glance up that I finally got a good look at him.
It was Ricky.
Of course. It all made sense. Ricky was stealing the artifacts and selling them to Joyner to support his gambling habit. Healy must have caught him in the act or become suspicious and confronted him. In the heat of the moment, Ricky had stabbed him to death. Then when Bridget caught him red-handed, he shot and killed her.
My first instinct was to jump up and tackle him, but I remembered our agreement was that I'd only observe.
Ricky resumed pacing, but he jumped at every noise. His edginess was catching. I found myself growing tense. What was he doing? Was he waiting for someone? There was a definite sense of anticipation in the air. We waited together for what seemed like an eternity.
Finally, I heard the sounds of someone else approaching. Ricky heard them too, and moved into the shadows to wait. Moments later, another figure stepped warily into the clearing, although he stopped just far enough back that I couldn’t make out his features.
"You here?" the second person called softly.
"Shh," Ricky hissed as he stepped forward. "Keep your damn voice down!"
"Sorry."
The sound carried easily to my hiding spot, even in their whispered tones, but they were speaking too low for me to recognize the second guy, if, in fact, I knew him.
"I didn't think you were going to show up," Ricky said accusingly.
"I got here as soon as I could. I don't even know why I had to come. This is crazy. What if we get caught? Why couldn't you just text me?"
"We can't do anything that could be traced back or incriminate us."
"What do you mean?"
"That Kendall kid is on to us."
"What?" Fear sharpened his voice, and for a second, I almost thought I recognized it.
"Calm down. I don't think they have any idea who was actually taking the stuff, but they've been sniffing around Joyner's. We're calling things off...for now."
"What do you mean 'for now'? I'm done, Ricky. I want out."
"You just don't get it, do you? It doesn't matter what you want. I own you. I have enough dirt on you to destroy you."
"Not without implicating yourself."
"Ever hear of an anonymous tip, dumbass?"
"Maybe I'll just go to the police myself, tell them everything that happened and how it was all your idea."
"That wouldn't be very smart. I was afraid you might do something stupid, so I've been keeping a few little mementos here and there for insurance purposes: things with your fingerprints on them, a tape of you sobbing about how you shot Bridget and left her out here in the woods to die, a surveillance video of you selling stolen artifacts to Joyner. I'll just tell them how you recruited me, how I had no idea anyone would ever get hurt, and how I was so afraid for my life after you killed Healy and Bridget that I couldn't come forward sooner."
"But that's not how it happened!" His voice was showing signs of panic, and as he became more and more frightened, it also rose in volume.
Suddenly, I knew who it was, but I didn't understand. If I was right, and it was Alexander out there talking to Ricky, then Alexander killed Bridget. Did that mean he'd also killed Healy? What role did Ricky play?
"You have no proof," Ricky continued relentlessly. "I've never even had a speeding ticket, so at worst they'll charge me as an accessory after the fact. Meanwhile, they'll put you away for life. It would be your word against mine. Who do you think they'd believe — me or a confessed murderer?"
"It was an accident!" Alexander's voice broke, and his breath became ragged.
Ricky was pushing him to the edge. What was he trying to accomplish? "An accident, huh?" he pressed on mockingly. "You shot someone and left her for dead. Do you really expect anyone to believe it was an accident?"
"I didn't mean to kill anyone. I was just scared after Professor Healy's murder and..."
"You probably killed him too."
"No! I didn't!"
"You killed Bridget, why not Healy?"
"I didn't mean for Bridget to die."
Alexander was crying softly now, his arms crossed tightly over his chest and his shoulders hunched. If Ricky was trying to break him, he'd succeeded — but to what end? He'd admitted to shooting Bridget, but denied killing Healy. He seemed too distressed to be lying, but maybe it was all an act.
"God, you're so pathetic," Ricky sneered, then paused. "But I'll tell you what. If you do one more thing for me, we'll call it even."
"What?" Alexander sniffled suspiciously.
Ricky started pacing again. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "Get rid of Killian Kendall."
A chill went down my spine. That was what Ricky had been angling for all along. He wanted me dead, and he wanted Alexander to pull the trigger. He was blackmailing Alexander to commit murder.
"What do you mean?" Alexander asked, but the dread in his voice showed he already knew what Ricky was telling him to do.
"Kill him," Ricky said as casually as if he were asking the guy to pick up his dry cleaning. "It shouldn't be that big a deal. They say the second time is easier."
Alexander uncrossed his arms and stood up straighter. "No."
"What?" Ricky stopped in his tracks. He clearly hadn’t expected that twist.
"I won't do it." Alexander's voice, still shaky, now held an edge that hadn't been there before.
"You don't understand. It wasn't a request. Kendall has to go."
"Why?"
"He's getting too close." For the first time, Ricky's voice lost some of its confidence.
"I don't care anymore. Let him figure it out. I just want this whole nightmare to be over. I didn't want any of this to happen..."
"Maybe you don't care, but I do. I'm not going to jail because you're too incompetent to do what you're told."
"If I'm so incompetent, then you do it. I'm done."
"Damn it! If you don't kill the goddamn bastard, I'll turn you in."
"Don't threaten me, Ricky."
"Or what? You'll shoot me like you did Bridget?"
"Maybe." He sounded uncertain, even to me.
Ricky laughed — an ugly, scornful sound. "You don't have the fucking balls. You've got two days to get rid of Kendall. I don't care how you do it; just make sure he's dead. If you fuck it up, you're going down." He turned and started walking away.
"Ricky, stop!"
Ricky kept walking.
"Please. Don’t make me do this."
There was still no acknowledgment from Ricky. Alexander suddenly started after him while pulling something from his jacket pocket. Moonlight glinted off metal, and I realized it was a gun.
Before I could call out a warning, Alexander pulled the trigger. The shot was deafening. I watched in horror as Ricky stumbled a few steps, then pitched forward.
Without thinking, I leapt to my feet and bolted into the clearing. "Stop!" I yelled with as much authority as I could muster.
Alexander swung around and pointed the gun right at my chest, his face a mask of horrified terror. "Oh God!" he whimpered. "Oh fuck! Oh shit!"
Considering the state he was in, he was more than likely to shoot first and think later. I had to calm him down.
"Alexander, it's okay. Just relax."
"Where—? What—?"
I'd reacted with no plan, and now I needed to think fast. "I, uh, I was on my way out here and heard a gunshot. Are you okay?"
He darted a glance towards Ricky's crumpled form on the ground, but I pretended not to notice.
"How much did you hear?" he asked.
"I heard a gunshot—"
"You're lying!"
"Alexander, listen to me—"
"You had to be somewhere close. You must have heard everything."
I needed to keep him talking. Obviously, denying that I'd heard his conversation with Ricky wasn't working. I'd have to try a different approach. Feeling a little lightheaded, I admitted, "Okay, yes, I heard you talking to Ricky."
His gun hand shook slightly. "What did you hear?"
"I heard him accuse you of killing Bridget and Healy."
"I didn't kill Professor Healy!"
"Okay, I believe you."
"Bridget was an accident."
"What happened? Maybe I can help."
He shook his head but started talking. "You can't help me now. I wanted to tell you. I even tried calling you a few times, but then I just couldn't get the words to come out. Now everything is fucked up. It's too late."
"It's never too late, Alexander. Just tell me what happened. I know people. I really can help." I could tell he was vacillating. He wanted to believe I could help him, but he was afraid. "Talk to me, Alexander."
His desire to explain himself won out, at least for the moment. "She...she caught me. I was out here digging. It wasn't even dark yet. I shouldn't have been here. It was stupid, but I needed the money."
"You were selling the artifacts you found to Joyner?"
He nodded. "It wasn't my idea. Ricky came to me and asked if I wanted to make some quick cash. He knew I needed money. He knew all kinds of stuff about me: how my mom is an alcoholic and that I take care of her, how I was on a scholarship, even that I needed more credits to keep my scholarship. He told me I should take this class. He said it would be easy, and he'd tell me what to do later." As he talked, Alexander kept the gun centered on my chest.
"You never asked what you'd have to do for the money?"
"No. I was afraid to ask. I just did what he told me. After the excavation started, he told me not to report all the things I found. He said if I found something good, to keep it buried and come back later that night to get it. I was supposed to take it to him, then he'd sell it and give me my cut. At first, I just found a few arrowheads. They didn't bring enough to even justify the risks. Then Ricky told me there was something good in his pit and I should dig there that night. It was an ax, and it brought a little more money.
"After that, he'd tell me whenever he found something good. Then he told me to swipe a few things from the tent after they'd been found but before they'd been catalogued. That was the first mistake. It made people suspicious. When I found out you were investigating the thefts, I got really scared and wanted to quit.
"When we found that stupid skeleton, Ricky freaked out. He said I had to go dig there. I refused. I said I was done. The next thing I know, Professor Healy is dead and the police have shut down the excavation. I was so relieved, because I thought it meant the whole thing was over."
"But it wasn't?"
"Not even close. Ricky called me and said with Healy out of the way and the excavation shut down, I could dig up the grave without any danger of getting caught. I didn't want to, but he threatened to call the police and tell them I was the thief. I thought maybe if I did this one last thing, he'd leave me alone. And...I was afraid if they knew I'd been stealing the artifacts, they'd also think I'd killed the professor. So I went, but I took a gun with me for safety. I didn't know who had killed Professor Healy. What if they came back?"
"And that's when Bridget caught you in the act?"
"I was so scared. I was so busy digging that I didn't hear her coming until she was right there. I...I panicked. I just shot her and ran." He broke down and started to cry again. "I didn’t mean to kill her. I didn't even know who it was at first. I thought it might be the murderer coming back. And now she's dead, and I shot Ricky, and now you—"
His gun hand drooped a little, and I saw my opening. I took a small step forward. If I could just get close enough, maybe I could use some of my defense training to disarm him. I spoke as calmly as possible. "Alexander, it’s okay. I think I can help you. I know the detective in charge of the investigation."
"No police!"
The gun snapped back up, and I froze.
"Listen to me! You didn’t mean to kill Bridget. They'll understand that."
"No police," he repeated shakily.
"You can't just keep killing people, Alexander."
"I won't have to kill anyone else after you."
"The police will keep investigating. Eventually, they'll figure everything out. Then it will be even worse. Just let me help you."
"You're trying to trick me."
"You have to trust me."
"Oh God," he moaned. "I can't trust anybody. I have to kill you."
"Alexander—"
He moved toward me, stepping onto the edge of one of the tarps. There must have been something under it, because his foot slipped, causing him to stumble. In that moment of distraction, I lunged forward and tackled him.
We tumbled to the ground and slid into the shallow pit, all the time wrestling for control of the gun. He was stronger than he looked. Normally, I would have been easily outmatched, but desperation gives you strength, and I was fighting for my life.
One of his arms was trapped under our bodies, and I had his other wrist pinned down with both of my hands. It took all my strength to hold him as he twisted and bucked under me in an attempt to throw me off.
I wrenched his wrist, and the gun slipped from his grasp.
As soon as I released his arm to reach for the weapon, however, he clawed at my face, his finger ripping into my nostrils. I felt blood spurt, but I ignored the pain and concentrated solely on the gun. I had to reach it before he did.
Just as he was about to overpower me, my fingertips brushed the barrel. I had to get the gun out of his reach. Grabbing what I could of it, I threw it out of the pit and away from both of us.
He stared at me in disbelief for a second, then heaved me aside with a grunt. He clambered out of the pit in search of the gun as I scrambled up the other side. If I could manage to take cover in the forest, maybe I could find my way to Fletcher's house and safety.
I had barely reached the trees, however, when Alexander fired a shot from behind me. I waited to feel the impact, but it never came. He'd missed. I kept running, but now I could hear him chasing me. Another shot rang out, and this time the bullet whizzed through the leaves nearby.
I ran like I'd never run before, blindly racing through the trees. I felt as if the very forest conspired against me. Branches clawed at my face. Brambles grabbed greedily at my clothes. I tripped and stumbled over roots seemingly thrust between my feet.
Each time I fell, I doggedly bounced back up and continued running. I could feel the warmth of blood trickling down my face, mixing with the cold sweat of panic, but I felt no pain. I had no room for anything but fear and the will to survive.
When the sounds of pursuit faltered behind me, I took the opportunity to duck behind a particularly broad tree. I pressed myself against its trunk and tried to control my gasping breath, knowing that the slightest sound could give me away and lead to my death.
After a few seconds, the footsteps started again. Alexander was hunting me, and we both knew he wouldn’t stop until I was dead. I could stay still and hope he passed me by, or I could make a run for it and try to escape. As he drew nearer, fear won out over reason, and I launched myself away from the dubious security of the tree.
I heard Alexander shout as I ran. He must have spotted me and was once again hot on my trail. I ran even harder, but I'd lost all sense of direction by that point. I had no idea what I was running towards. I caught a glimpse of white out of the corner of my eyes and turned my head to see the albino deer coursing through the trees to my left. We exploded into the clearing at the same time. Somehow, I'd gotten turned around in the woods.
I barely had time for my mind to register that I was heading towards one of the pits. I tried to jump to the side, but my foot landed on the edge, and I could feel the earth under the tarp crumble from beneath me.
I fell, twisting my ankle painfully in the process. When I tried to push myself up, the pain was excruciating. I choked back a yelp just as Alexander burst into sight. He pulled up short next to the pit and stared down at me triumphantly, his chest heaving with exertion.
Defeated, I dropped to the ground, feeling a strong sense of déjà vu. I'd been there before in a dream.
I'd foreseen my own death.
As I stared up at the pistol Alexander was pointing directly at me, one thought kept running through my mind: I wish I had a gun.
At that moment, my dislike of firearms was the furthest thing from my mind. With someone pointing a deadly weapon at me, I wanted equal force to protect myself. Unfortunately, I didn't have it. I had only my wits, so I took one last stab at talking Alexander out of killing me.
"You don't have to do this—"
He cut me off quickly. "Yes. I do."
When I heard the resolve in his voice, I knew I was as good as dead. In his own mind, at least, he'd already pulled the trigger. To him, I no longer existed.
That knowledge allowed me to disconnect while I waited for the bullet that would finish my life. Since the moment I'd first confronted Alexander, survival had been my sole focus, and in the end, it seemed I hadn't made it.
I'd heard your life flashes in front of your eyes in the seconds before you die. In a way, I suppose mine did — although it wasn't like a movie playing out on some mental screen.
I simply saw the faces of those I loved: Adam, Steve, Mom, Kane, Asher, Jake, Micah — even Novak. There was no blinding moment of clarity, no overwhelming regret about unfinished business — just an empty, aching feeling of loss.
As often happened at critical moments in my life, time seemed to slow down as I stared up at Alexander past the gun in his hand. His eyes narrowed, his finger tightened on the trigger, a muscle twitched in his face. I waited for the blast and wondered which thought would be my last.
Just then, I noticed a sense of swirling energies gathering around us. Apparently, Alexander felt it too, because he suddenly looked up. His eyes grew wide, and I twisted to see what was happening.
The next several things happened in a blur. The enormous form of an albino deer charged toward us, head down, antlers forward. Alexander raised the gun and fired just as White Deer launched himself into the air, leaping over me in a graceful arc. He rammed into Alexander with a sickening crunch, sending Alexander flying through the air before he slammed into a tree.
The buck turned and locked eyes with me, his nostrils flaring. I blinked, and suddenly White Deer was once more in his human form. He approached me and knelt by my side, quickly running his hands over the ankle I'd twisted when I fell. I felt a tingling sensation where he touched me.
His eyes found mine once more. "You faced death with bravery, but it is not your time."
"Thank you," I said, my voice barely more than a whisper.
He nodded, then glanced back to where Alexander lay crumpled on the ground. "Remember, the dead are not powerless."
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