The Sinners of Saint Amos: The Full 3-book Boxset

by Logan Fox

  Zac

  I sit up in bed and stare at the shadow of the man who’s just stepped into my room.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  Rube doesn’t reply immediately. Instead, he moves about my room, hunting in the dark. Seconds later, a match flares and he lights the single candle on my desk.

  My apartment is one of the smaller ones on the fourth floor of the east wing.

  Reuben shouldn’t be in this wing. He has a single student room on the west.

  Light takes its time to seep into the shadows. Reuben sits on the corner of my bed, his profile cast in stark relief by the candle.

  I don’t need much more than a desk and a bed, so that’s all there is this room. I’m fortunate enough to have an en-suite bathroom, but it’s nothing more than a toilet and a shower.

  “She was with him tonight.”

  There’s no question who he’s talking about.

  Cass calls him Old Scratch, or Lucifer when he’s feeling snarky. Reuben never addresses him by name, except if he’s speaking to someone outside of our group. Then he uses the provost’s full honorifics.

  Apollo’s terms of endearment are multitudinous. I think he commits several hours a week to thinking up new ones, in fact.

  We’re all obsessed with the past. We all suffer the same sick compulsion—to exact our revenge. We all pretend we have some form of control over ourselves.

  Over each other.

  “He fucked her?”

  Rube snorts. “Dinner. And then confession.”

  “Confession?”

  “He knows her parents. She said he’s all she’s got left.”

  My bed creaks as Reuben rocks forward, then back. Forward, then back.

  “He kept touching her.”

  Shit.

  That’s why he came busting in here when he knows better than to expose our relationship like this. What he saw must have seriously unhinged him.

  “Tell me.”

  Rube puts his head in his hands. “Holding her like she was his motherfucking child,” he whispers.

  I slide my hands under the blankets. At night, when the temperature drops, the pain in my ankles worsens. I draw my legs into a cross-legged seat and rub at the tendons, willing away their wretched ache.

  “And she let him, Zac.” Rube’s whisper gains strength. “She let him put his sick, filthy hands on her like it meant nothing.”

  Christ, now my wrists are starting to ache too.

  I need to cut this short. Rube’s intensity gets to me sometimes. Makes it hard to stay focused. And I need to stay focused. My brothers depend on my stability. If it weren’t for me, they’d still be scattered to the winds.

  I brought us back together.

  I forged their white-hot hatred into malleable steel.

  I’ll be the one to lead the charge on that fateful day. The one Cassius accused me of wanting to postpone.

  Nothing could be further from the truth.

  But I know what life is like. It’s when you think you have everything under control that it all implodes.

  For the Lord watches over the path of the godly, but the path of the wicked leads to destruction.

  “We have to get rid of her,” Rube mutters sullenly. “Let’s do it tonight. Me and you. I know what room she’s in—I checked.”

  Fuck. I surge forward, going onto my knees on the bed, and grab hold of Rube’s shoulder. “Listen to me.”

  His muscles turn to stone under my hand.

  “Reuben, listen to me.”

  Eventually, he turns to face me. Slowly, reluctantly, but he turns.

  “We can’t kill her.”

  “Yes we can,” he states in a dead monotone. “It’ll be easy.”

  “It’ll draw attention to us.”

  “But she’ll be gone.”

  “Rube. You’re not listening.”

  “Better she’s gone than she’s with him.”

  Jesus, I’m losing him.

  I get up and go to stand in front of him. He tilts back his head. I’m casting deep shadows over his face. “We don’t know all the facts, Reuben. Remember the facts. They’re important. More important than feelings.” I press my hand to his chest. His flesh beneath his shirt is surprisingly warm, despite his cold heart.

  “She doesn’t know what he’s going to do,” Rube says. “Better she’s gone, before she finds out.”

  I let out a sigh, and sink down in front of him. “We’ll get rid of her, but without exposing ourselves. Without risking everything. Isn’t that better?”

  Rube’s humph sounds doubtful. I need to call in reinforcements. We can’t risk Reuben going rogue.

  “Let’s meet with the guys. We’ll figure this out together.”

  When he doesn’t respond, I grab his wrists and start massaging them. A second later, he catches hold of me and does the same. I grimace in pain before I can control my features. His hands are strong, and he knows exactly where it hurts.

  “What’s to figure out?” Rube says. “If we can’t kill her, then we’ll make her life unbearable. She won’t have a choice. She’ll have to leave.”

  His black eyes catch the light as he finally makes eyes contact with me again. If anyone saw him right now, they’d be convinced he was possessed by the Devil.

  They’d piss themselves if they knew how right they were.

  “No one comes to Saint Amos out of choice, Rube.”

  He studies me for a moment before his lips turn up into a cold smile.

  “We did.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Trinity

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  I don’t bother answering Jasper, just like I didn’t bother getting undressed for bed last night, or showering, or even washing my face.

  What’s the point anyway?

  “Hey, are you sick or something?”

  “Sure,” I mumble back. “Let’s go with that.”

  Jasper mutters something under his breath before stomping out of the room. Thankfully, he closes the door behind him—I don’t know if I have the energy to go after him and close it.

  Minutes later, the prayer bell sounds.

  I don’t regret anything I said last night. I should…but I don’t.

  I can’t remember how long I spent in Father Gabriel’s room, in his arms. I know at some stage he lit a cigarette. That smell drove me out of myself just long enough to get to my feet and finally make it out of his room.

  I walked the halls for a while. Half lost and panicking, half not giving a fuck if I ever found my way again.

  But I eventually arrived back here in this little cubbyhole of a room. I climbed onto my bed, rolled myself in my blankets, and fell into a dreamless sleep.

  That was a century ago. Or mere minutes.

  Time is something that happens to other people.

  The bedroom door opens, thumping against the wall.

  I don’t even flinch.

  “You’re sick?” Sister Miriam says from the doorway.

  I consider the consequences of being as rude to her as I was to Jasper.

  Not worth it.

  “Yes,” I mumble.

  “Do you have a fever?”

  “Yes.”

  Shoes clomp over the tiles. An icy hand clamps over my forehead. This time I do flinch, and I even manage to scramble up and move away from that hand.

  Sister Miriam studies me for a moment. “You’ve been crying.”

  No fucking duh. Did my swollen eyes give it away?

  “Come. Get up.”

  I shake my head. “Please, I’ll go to class. I just…I just need to sleep for a little longer.”

  “You will get up now. You will wash. You will eat breakfast with the others.”

  I wish I could spontaneously burst into tears right now. I’m not sure if it would help, but I’ve got to believe even someone as cold-hearted as Sister Miriam might be moved by the sight of tears.

  Fuck, who am I kidding? Anyone who works in a place lik
e this has got to be immune to shit like that by now.

  I’m sure that’s the only way people stay sane around here.

  I obviously took too long to answer her. Her mouth twisting into a sour grimace, Miriam darts forward, catches hold of the shoulder of my dress, and drags me out of bed.

  “That wasn’t a request, Miss Malone.”

  Miss Malone.

  She hauls open my closet and takes down one of the hangers. The next moment, I’m clutching a brown dress to my chest.

  It’s not as thick as the one I’m wearing. This is normal fabric. Still stiff, but in a way that suggests it hasn’t been through the wash enough times to be soft.

  A new dress, made just for me.

  It should make me happy, even superficially, but instead all I can think about is how ashamed I was last night. Sitting there in a heap on Gabriel’s floor.

  Did Reuben tell anyone?

  Does someone like him even have friends to gossip with?

  Miriam draws back the sleeve of her habit to check a dainty wristwatch. On her, it looks like the string on a roll of salami.

  “You have half an hour. Plenty of time to wash up and get down to breakfast.” Her eyes narrow. “I’ll know if you don’t show. I’ll know if you don’t eat. Don’t test me, Miss Malone. You’ll regret it.”

  I scowl after her as she leaves. I believe her—after all, she knew I was playing sick.

  Jasper.

  He must have said something to her.

  I’m going to kill him.

  Fuck his grades. I don’t care if he fails. In fact, I hope he has to repeat the entire year. Maybe then he’ll think twice about snitching on someone.

  I head for the showers, but I don’t make it all the way. A few yards from the door, I can already hear the commotion inside. I don’t know how many boys are in there, but even one would have been too many. Is night the only time I stand a chance to shower alone?

  This is such bullshit.

  I go back to my room and flop down on my bed. When the bell rings for breakfast, I lay there for a few seconds before my brain wills my body into action.

  Self-preservation in action.

  I drag off my old dress and slip into the new one. I really need a shower, but I’ll wait until tonight. In the meantime, the smell of washing powder on this dress smells will have to do.

  The fabric is baggy around my boobs and too tight around my hips. It’s so uncomfortable that I stand for a good minute seriously considering wearing the old, scratchy dress. At least it was baggy all over.

  When I get down to the dining hall, everyone’s already seated. Sister Miriam is stalking down the aisles, head poking forward like she’s making sure no one’s thinking dirty thoughts.

  Or is she looking for me?

  I hurry over to the tray table and grab the lone tray sitting there. As soon as I turn around, I spot Jasper.

  Because he was watching me with a concerned look on his face.

  Holy crap, was I that rude to him? Or does he know I got into a heap of trouble with Miriam? That latter seems more likely, especially since he moves aside and beckons me over with a flick of his wrist.

  “Thanks,” I mumble as I slide onto the bench beside him.

  He studies me for a moment and then shrugs. “Nice dress.”

  “Fuck off.”

  His eyebrows go to his hairline, but he doesn’t reply. Perry’s sitting opposite us on the bench, but he doesn’t even look up from his tray.

  I hear Sister Miriam approach from the other side of the room.

  Clomp, clomp.

  Grimacing faintly, I peel the plastic wrap off the tray. “Ew,” I murmur, using my spoon to poke at the beige gruel slopped in my tray.

  Normally, there’s something different in each of the little hollows—a piece of toast, scrambled eggs, oatmeal.

  Not today.

  Today it’s all oatmeal. And it looks gross enough to be from last week’s batch.

  “Running low on donations or something?” I mutter, glancing over at Jasper’s plate.

  My spoon sags.

  Jasper’s tray is full of the usual—in fact, it looks like he even got a fucking breakfast sausage.

  What the hell?

  “Maybe they ran out?” Jasper whispers.

  Clomp, clomp.

  I heap some of the disgusting oatmeal onto my spoon and toy with it for effect as Miriam comes up behind me. There’s a tug on the back of my dress, and suddenly my boobs fill the bodice.

  “We’ll need to take more measurements,” Miriam says, as if I’m not surrounded by a table full of boys. “Come see me this afternoon.”

  I’m blushing so hard I don’t even hear her walking away.

  “Here,” Jasper says.

  I glance at him. He’s holding out his sausage on the end of his fork.

  When I look up at him, he drops his eyes.

  “Not hungry,” I say, pushing away my plate.

  I stand and go over to the far side of the room, ignoring the eyes surreptitiously following me. I pour myself a cup of coffee, hesitate, and then double the amount of sugar I normally do.

  I’m sure I’m going to need the energy today.

  On the way back to my seat, I spot movement across the room.

  Of course.

  My day wouldn’t be complete without someone filming me for no apparent reason. It’s blatantly obvious he’s got the lens focused on me—it tracks me as I cross the room.

  I thump down into my seat and point at him, leaning sideways to Jasper. I keep my voice low even though Sister Miriam left the hall minutes ago.

  “Who is that?”

  Jasper frowns as he looks up. “Think his name’s Apollo.”

  Perry turns in his seat and comes back with a nod. “Yeah. That’s Apollo. Why?”

  “Because I’m sick of him filming me.” I stand and dust my hands. “And I’m sure Sister Miriam won’t like it when I tell her what he’s been doing.”

  “You’re gonna tell?” Jasper frowns up at me.

  I put my hands on my waist and glare down at him. “You’re lecturing me about snitching?”

  The hall goes silent.

  My cheeks instantly turn red.

  But I hold my ground, even when Jasper frowns in confusion. “I didn’t say anything. Father Gabriel asked us where you were before he started prayers this morning.” Jasper throws out a hand to encompass every student in the school.

  Even Apollo and his damned video camera.

  “He asked the whole school, and when no one said they’d seen you, then he asked me specifically.” Jasper snorts and leans back, scooping up a heap of scrambled eggs with his fork. “I ain’t gonna lie for you.”

  I deflate a little at that. I guess I should have realized Jasper wouldn’t snitch, but I hadn’t thought Gabriel would ask after me either.

  I sink back into my seat and mutter out a low, “Sorry.”

  “Yeah, well, fuck you,” Jasper says. He stabs his fork toward me again. “Now eat the fucking sausage.”

  I stare at the oily sausage, and then up at him.

  You know what? Thank fuck my tray was the last one and all I got was prison gruel. I’m glad I couldn’t go shower this morning because the place was infested with boys.

  We’ve been through this little dance, the Universe and I. It seems to forget that even if it knocks me down, I’ll pop right back up again. A little like punching fog, and a lot like punching a balloon.

  I slide the sausage off his fork and bite carefully into it. It’s not great, but anything’s better than the gruel.

  “And if you don’t want to eat crap, get here sooner,” he mutters.

  “Yes, Mom.”

  My skin goes cold when I hear what I said, but it gets a chuckle from Jasper and a snicker from Perry, and I don’t want to ruin that.

  How long will it take before a single phrase like that doesn’t stab icicles through my heart?

  Another month? A year?

  Maybe neve
r.

  However long it’ll take I can handle.

  Because, honestly…how much worse can this possibly get?

  Chapter Seventeen

  Trinity

  Despite its awful start, my day seems to take a good turn. I made progress with Jasper today. Heck, we might even be able to get along after all.

  I’m still buzzing on that high when I get to my first class. English—taught by the very severe and very dry Sister Sharon. I never knew someone who could suck the fun out of literature as much as she could. But I’m determined to get through the lesson with a smile on my face.

  Until I see who’s sitting in my chair.

  “Cassius, please return to your usual seat,” Sharon says.

  I’m pretty sure I would have remembered if the handsome sociopath of a hallway monitor was in my class.

  Nope. Definitely a first.

  “I don’t think she’ll be able to see over my head,” Cassius says. He sounds one-hundred percent genuine in his concern, but there’s a gleam in his eyes that makes me wonder what the hell he’s up to.

  Surely he should have graduated last year already? He looks at least a year too old to be in my grade.

  I stand at the front of the class, gripping my books like a lifeline as I wait for the situation to resolve itself.

  “I suppose you’re right,” Sister Sharon says. She turns to me and then points to the seat in front of Cassius. “Take a seat Trinity. You’re holding up the class.”

  Me?

  I narrow my eyes at Cassius, and in response he slides an inch lower in his seat, props his elbow on the table, and leers at me like I’m a pork chop he’s been salivating over since his last meal. Feeling overly exposed in my ill-fitting dress, never mind every eye in the class watching me again, I make my way to the seat in front of Cassius and sit down.

  Try to sit down.

  At the last moment, there’s a flash of movement under Cassius’s desk. The chair isn’t there anymore.

  Of course Sister Sharon had turned her back on the class to write something on the board.

  Of course I lose my balance and land on my ass with a very comedic ‘oomph’ while my books and notepad go flying.