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

by Logan Fox

  “Yeah. Like that,” Cassius says before jogging across the grounds.

  I follow after a beat.

  Reuben is only a few yards from the crypt entrance when we arrive. When he throws open the door, there’s nothing but pitch black beyond. Apollo hurries forward and holds open the door for me, giving me a mock salute when I step through.

  He doesn’t follow us inside.

  His job is to make sure we aren’t disturbed.

  Reuben’s already halfway down the library’s easternmost aisle when I reach the basement level of the crypt. Cassius trails him, toying with Trinity’s hair as they walk. People come down here so rarely there’s a layer of dust over everything. That’s why we make sure to tread where we least suspect someone will notice our footprints.

  Over the months and years we’ve been enrolled at Saint Amos—and especially after I got my first set of keys as a teacher— we’ve managed to carve out a space of our own. Back here, far out of sight, we’ve arranged a few of the bookshelves so it looks as if the library ends a few yards short.

  The ground floor of the crypt is for short meetings. This place, on the other hand…it’s our nest. A sacred space no one knows exists. The only way in is through a gap hidden by a drape.

  Reuben stands there now, holding Trinity’s upper arm.

  Now that she’s back on her feet, Trinity seems to be a touch calmer than before. Or it could be the books. They have a calming effect on us too. The same hush seems to fill every library in the world fills this one too.

  “Go ahead,” I tell Reuben as I grasp Trinity’s other arm. “We’re right behind you.”

  He shrugs his shoulders, pushes aside the thick drape, and miraculously makes himself disappear into that dark sliver.

  Cassius follows, and then sticks out a hand for Trinity. She resists a little at first, and then throws me a furious look when I make the kind of soothing sounds you use to calm a skittish horse. With a chuckle, I feed her through the gap, Cassius pulling her from the other side.

  Unlike us, she goes through easily.

  Too easily.

  If we don’t pay attention, she could escape.

  Good thing Apollo’s keeping watch upstairs then.

  Reuben turns on the lamp as I slide through the gap. Warm orange light suffuses the nest. From Trinity’s wide eyes and stiff form, I’m guessing she didn’t expect anything like this.

  The space is as large as the library is wide, which is about ten yards, give or take. We’ve split our nest into two areas—a pseudo living area with sofas, chairs, and tables, and a makeshift bedroom.

  Thankfully, since we all have private rooms in the dormitory, no one notices if we don’t sleep in that wretched building, especially if we make sure we’re back inside before first light.

  The bedroom area is separated by another stolen drape. At the moment, it’s tucked off to one side, baring the layers of mattresses and blankets and pillows that make up that side of the room.

  A true nest.

  And I guess Trinity’s mind comes to the worst possible conclusion when she sees it.

  She shrieks through her gag and races straight for the gap in the bookshelves. I catch the first thing I can, and yank her back by a handful of wet curls.

  Reuben takes off his shirt, staring at the damp spot she made with no expression. He grabs a fresh shirt from the pile neatly stacked on one of the numerous bookshelves we used to create this space.

  We moved out most of the books from this side of the wall and replaced them with bottles of sacramental wine and hard booze, cartons of cigarettes, porn magazines, and whatever else we felt we couldn’t keep in the dorm.

  I haven’t been down here in close to a week. I’m not sure when last one of my brothers was either. We’ve been avoiding this space, and each other, so we wouldn’t risk exposing ourselves.

  We were so close, too.

  I tighten the fist in Trinity’s hair.

  So fucking close.

  I turn her to face me, and then wrench open the belt keeping her gag in place. For once, she doesn’t spit out her panties immediately. Instead, she watches me with wide, bright eyes as her lips tremble an inch apart.

  “The next time you run, I’m taking you over my knee. Do you understand?”

  She hesitates, and then nods.

  Cassius is close—I can feel his body heat. From the sounds of things, Reuben is pouring us shots.

  I could use one.

  I could use a blunt even more, but that’s Cass’s department. “Roll us one,” I tell him. He moves away, taking his warmth with him.

  I stick a finger in Trinity’s mouth, hook her underwear and yank it out. She licks her lips and grimaces, but then smooths her face.

  “You’re hurting me,” she says.

  “What’s your point?”

  Something flickers in her eyes. Fear? Panic? It’s gone too fast for me to make out.

  I can’t imagine what she’s thinking. Luckily for her, she’s not going to be wondering about anything for much longer.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Trinity

  This place looks like a psycho’s version of a man cave with all the dirty magazines and alcohol lying around. The sofas have seen better years—most have been duct-taped to stop the stuffing from coming out.

  Then again, it is clean, if untidy. No rat droppings or cockroaches anywhere.

  And not a single mote of dust.

  A stark contrast with the library I walked through to get here. I can’t believe this place was here the whole time I’d been teaching Jasper. I didn’t have a clue. Which I suppose is exactly what they made sure of.

  Zachary still has a hand in my hair. His tight grip stings, but the ties around my wrists hurt more.

  There’s no way in hell I’m giving up on running out of here because he threatened to smack my bottom. Draw me over his knee? He’ll have to fucking catch me first, won’t he? Do they honestly think I didn’t notice how difficult it was for them to get inside this place?

  Especially Reuben.

  I’ll be out the door before they make it to the stairs.

  Except for Apollo, who’s obviously guarding the door upstairs.

  But everyone’s on edge right now. It shows in their eyes. I need them to let down their guard. I do my best not to let Zachary in on the fact I’m watching Reuben pouring alcohol into some mismatched tumblers and glasses.

  Let them drink and be fucking merry.

  Soon as they’re not paying attention, I’m out of here.

  Zachary inhales a huge breath. His eyes haven’t left me once since I tried to run out. And that was my first mistake. I should have waited for the right time. But I’d seen this place, and I’d panicked.

  Do they sleep in that mess behind the curtain?

  Like…together?

  It looks more like the kind of playpen you’d have rowdy sex in than somewhere to sleep. And while there aren’t any rats out here, I wouldn’t be surprised if there were fucking snakes in there.

  Zachary tugs at the plastic ties around my wrists, and my eyes dart to him.

  Was I staring? I’ve got to keep myself in check. I can’t give them even a hint about what I’m thinking.

  “What do you want from me?” I ask, hoping to distract him. Hoping to get some actual answers. They owe me that much after what had nearly happened up there. After what they’d nearly done.

  Zachary holds out a hand. Cassius—who’d been busy rolling a weed cigarette on a nearby coffee table—looks up like they’d legit had some kind of telepathic conversation. He moves to the bookshelf separating their man cave from the library and opens a tin.

  I almost don’t hold my ground when the lamp’s orange glow bounces off the switchblade he hands Zachary.

  This is it.

  This is why they brought me here.

  They’re a bunch of serial killers, aren’t they? They hide out here and carve their way through whatever student they decide no one will miss.

&n
bsp; Holy mother of God.

  Is that what happened to all those students who Father Gabriel had told me disappeared in the woods?

  I’m shivering. My skin is hot and cold at the same time. Zachary is staring at me, but I can’t take my eyes off the switchblade. He drops his hand and flicks it open like a fucking professional.

  My stomach drops straight into hell.

  His hand darts out. I can already feel the blade sinking into my stomach. My eyes squeeze shut on instinct, and then flutter open a second later when there’s no immediate pain.

  He flicks the blade through my ties, releasing me.

  My fingers tremble as I massage life back into my wrist.

  Thank the Lord.

  This will make it so much easier to escape.

  He clicks his fingers as he points at the sofa furthest from the exit. “Sit.”

  “I’m not a dog.”

  He tilts his head. The orange light plays havoc with his eyes, turning them into surreal, gleaming orbs.

  “Then don’t make us tie you up like one,” Cass says through a sneer.

  I turn to frown at him.

  In a flash, his fingers are around my throat. “Although you’d look real pretty in a collar.”

  Zachary lays a hand on Cass’s arm, and he instantly releases me. Afraid he’ll touch me again, I hurry over and take a seat where Zachary pointed.

  “You didn’t answer me,” I say, making sure to use a neutral tone of voice.

  Zachary drags a wooden chair to the space in front of my sofa. He seats himself at leisure, as if he’s got all the time in the world.

  “What makes you think you’re in a position to ask questions?”

  Reuben walks up to Zachary and holds out a short, thick tumbler. Amber liquid swirls around in it as it exchanges hands. Zachary throws it down his gullet and hands the glass back to Reuben.

  I can’t believe this is my psych teacher. Granted, I’d only had a handful of lessons with him, but I’d never thought he’d so much as touch a glass of alcohol, never mind sling it back like that.

  Dad would have a nightcap before going to bed. I can still see him now, seated at his small desk in the corner of the dining room, a shot of brandy in one hand, the other slowly turning the page of his favorite bible. He would only ever have one glass.

  Except when he returned from his missionary work with Father Gabriel. Then he’d drink like Zachary—tossing back shot after shot like he’d kept count of every nightcap he’d missed and was balancing the scales. Then he’d stumble off to bed and sleep for a day.

  Mom said it was jet lag, and made her bed on the couch.

  Then everything went back to normal.

  Kind of, anyway.

  “Answer him, honey tits,” Cassius says. I flinch as he collapses onto the seat next to me. He has a glass too, but his still has alcohol in it.

  “You want from me,” I say.

  Cassius sniggers.

  “Information,” I add hurriedly, willing my cheeks to cool down. “Else you’d have gotten rid of me already.”

  A bold claim. They could literally have brought me down here to finish what they started. But I know it’s not that. Doing all sorts of dirty things to me in the shower hadn’t been their intent when they’d trapped me inside there.

  “We’re just passing the time,” Zachary says.

  It can’t be true, but there’s nothing on his face to suggest otherwise.

  How do they do it?

  “I don’t think so.” I shake my head, and wrap my arms around my chest. It’s not exactly warm down here, and I’m still only wearing my undies and a vest. The leather under my ass is deliciously cool on my tender rump, but it’s freezing against the back of my thighs. I make a point of looking around their man cave. “You’ve got much better ways to spend your time.”

  Keep them talking. Learn something. And wait for your chance to run the hell out of here.

  It’s not the best plan, but it’s a plan. A plan I can hold onto with dear life until something better comes along.

  Cassius laughs and takes a sip of his drink. Then he produces a weed cigarette from his cupped palm and holds it out to me. I glance down at it, frown, and shake my head as I suppress a shiver.

  “Here.”

  I look up. Reuben’s holding out a big-bottomed wine glass with about an inch of alcohol inside. “This will warm you up.”

  He’s definitely the member of this group I’m most uncertain about. While he gives off the kind of vibe that makes me want to climb over a wall to get away from him, he’s the only one who hasn’t hurt me or even threatened to yet.

  Him and Apollo.

  I take the glass from him and attempt a smile that probably comes out more like a grimace. “Thank you,” I murmur as I take it from him.

  He nods and disappears into the bedroom.

  Cassius offers the cigarette to Zachary, who lights it and takes a deep drag before turning his attention back to me.

  “How did you become friends with Father Gabriel?”

  That’s what they want to know? I shrug and bring the glass up to my nose. Whatever’s in here is strong enough to make my eyes want to start watering. Maybe I should have taken that weed cigarette from Cassius instead. At least I wouldn’t be hurting.

  “He’s my priest.” I glance away, happen to spot a very dirty magazine, and hastily look back at Zachary. “Was, anyway.”

  “That’s it?” Zachary takes another drag before passing the weed back to Cassius. “You said he was your best friend.”

  “He was, for a while.” It’s strange as fuck telling these near-strangers about my life. “Why are you so interested in him, anyway?”

  Without warning, Cassius leans over and tweaks my nipple through my vest. I jerk to my feet in surprise.

  He says, “We’re the ones asking the questions,” before I can get a word out.

  Zachary clicks his fingers and points back at the sofa.

  I want to throw my glass in his face. Not just the contents, the actual fucking glass.

  “What changed?” Zachary asks in the same tone of voice he used a minute ago.

  “He left our parish.”

  “Why?”

  “He didn’t say.”

  Zachary’s jaw ticks, tensing like he’s about to pounce on me. I crowd back into my seat, wishing I had something to protect myself with. I glance at Cassius, but he’s staring down at the tip of the cigarette as if he’s never been so fascinated by coiling smoke in his life. Zachary sits forward so quickly that I flinch. The contents of my glass swirl, almost spilling. His eyes go to the glass, and then back to me lightning fast.

  “Drink it.”

  I hold it out. “I don’t want—”

  “Drink it!” His booming voice fills the room.

  My hand shakes as I bring the glass to my lips and reluctantly pour everything in my mouth.

  Cassius laughs when I start coughing around that fiery liquid as it sears its way down my throat. Then he snatches the glass from my hand and sets it down on the floor beside his arm of the sofa.

  I wipe my chin with my fingers, and stare down at my thighs. My veins show up like tiny blue rivers under my skin.

  Not sure how this is possible, but I keep forgetting I’m surrounded by crazy people.

  That plan I had? A crock of shit.

  I’m not getting out of here alive.

  They’re just toying with me.

  The worst part is I’m starting to hope they’ll at least take their time.

  No one wants to die.

  Chapter Thirty

  Zac

  Thump.

  Thump.

  Thump.

  I try to ignore my pounding heart, but it fills every inch of my awareness.

  Calm down.

  Thump.

  Thump.

  Thump.

  At best, I’d considered Trinity just another poor soul who’d somehow managed to get a ticket on the worst ride boarding schools in West Virgi
nia offered. At worst, she was one of those crazy-eyed lackeys who follow Gabriel around like they couldn’t wait for their cup of blue Kool Aid.

  It had never crossed my mind that she knew him.

  Not as the provost of Saint Amos, or the ex-bishop of Redmond.

  That she knew him.

  The horrific twisted demon possessing his corrupted body. A sinister entity we’d finally tracked down after years of searching.

  She knew the Guardian.

  Reuben brought her a blanket. He even tucked her in while I finished the blunt. Cassius immediately started rolling another joint. I had another shot of whiskey. That, with the weed, pushed my savage fury down to a level where I could communicate again.

  “Why did you come to Saint Amos?” I ask.

  Trinity glances up at me, eyes widening. “I didn’t have anywhere else to—“

  “Why?”

  “My parents. They’re—they were killed in a car accident.”

  “When?”

  “About a month ago.” Her eyes are bright, but no tears. Is she lying? Wouldn’t make any sense if she was.

  Rube takes the seat beside her. Framed between him and Cassius, her feet not touching the ground and her hair drying into wild curls, she looks like a little doll.

  Cassius lights the blunt this time, takes a pull, and holds it out for her. She glances across at him and then down at the hands in her lap. The cuffs left bright red welts on her fair skin. I try not to look at them.

  “This isn’t me being polite,” Cassius says.

  “I don’t want any.”

  “I could give a shit,” he says, turning to her and leaning in. “Smoke it.”

  We know how this works. We’ve done it many times before.

  It makes me sick to think of the things we’ve done to get to this point. Trinity should be on her knees thanking God we’ve already figured out torture isn’t as effective as the more subtle means of interrogation.

  The weed will make her chatty. The alcohol will make it more difficult for her to lie. Plus, it reduces her flight risk. Trinity takes the blunt from him and hesitantly takes a drag. Then another. She coughs, hard, and tries to give the blunt back. Cassius grabs her wrist and forces the filter against her mouth. “One more.” When she complies, he murmurs, “Such a good little girl,” into her ear.