by Logan Fox
You’d think it couldn’t get more awkward than this, but then Perry enters the picture.
Jasper stops short. I glance at him and immediately turn to see what he’s looking at with a face that suddenly turned to stone.
Not what. Who.
Perry’s standing under one of the trees dotting the lawn between Saint Amos and the chapel. He was heading our way, but as I watch he slows down. A second later he stops, watching us with owlish eyes as Jasper heads for the chapel again.
“Aren’t you going to—?”
“Don’t be an idiot,” he mutters, tugging me after him. I give Perry a timid wave, but he either doesn’t see me or decides not to draw any more attention to himself because he doesn’t wave back.
I couldn’t be happier when we step inside the chapel’s cool shadows. I aim for the pew closest to the door but Jasper tightens his grip and hauls me down the aisle like this is our own shotgun wedding.
I guess morning prayers aren’t compulsory for staff but Sunday mass is because today the pews are crammed full.
I spot all four members of the Brotherhood as Jasper hauls me down the aisle. Apollo is on the other side of the church in the second row, nestled between a bunch of men I assume all work in the kitchen. Cass and Rube are sitting with the students.
Judging from the way they’re staring at me, the fact that my roommate is holding my hand doesn’t sit well.
I should probably mention to Jasper that holding my hand isn’t going to make anyone believe he’s suddenly into girls. What it will do is get him into a ton of shit for dragging me around like he just bought me at a slave auction.
We sit in the second row behind the teachers with Zachary less than a yard to the left. It feels like he’s the only one in the entire church who hasn’t been watching me since I walked in.
Somehow, that makes me more nervous than if he’d been staring like his brothers.
The bruise on his jaw is barely noticeable now. I’m sure if it was still visible, he wouldn’t have dared to show his face this morning.
I wince when my ass hits the pew. Although Zachary’s spanking didn’t bruise my skin as much as I’d thought it would, it still hurts like hell. Especially on these hard seats.
Jasper must be in agony.
I glance aside at him and then hurriedly look straight ahead. He’s glaring so hard at Zachary I’m surprised my Psych teacher’s hair hasn’t caught on fire.
Although it seems Zachary isn’t paying him any mind, I know for a fact he’s aware of us.
Both of us.
Thanks, Jasper. All I wanted this morning was to remain invisible.
I was exhausted when I got back to my room last night. My ass hurt, my head hurt...my heart hurt.
Yes, I’d been digging for answers, but I hadn’t expected to unearth a rotting corpse.
A few more kids rush in and hurriedly find seats. A reverential hush fills the chapel’s vaulted ceilings. Timing his entrance perfectly, Father Gabriel walks in a mere second after the first bored whisper reaches me from the students seated behind us.
My lungs turn to concrete.
Gabriel looks just like he always does, but now that familiar smile gracing his wide mouth seems fake as margarine. His eyes aren’t keen and inquisitive anymore—they’re cunning and shifty.
It’s like that optical illusion. Once you see the rabbit, you can’t see the duck anymore.
As soon as he catches sight of me, Gabriel’s gaze strips me bare.
It’s just your imagination.
There’s no reason for him to suspect anything is different about Trinity Malone, daughter of Keith and Monica—devoted parishioners of the Redford Missions of Love church.
I’m starting to sweat.
Gabriel’s eyes release me when he takes in the rest of the crowd, and I sag in my seat.
“Good morning, children.”
There’s still no proof to Brotherhood’s claims, but logic doesn’t reign in my mind anymore.
Is it because you want them to fuck you? Is that why you don’t need proof anymore, you blasphemous little slut?
My mouth turns sour.
Father Gabriel starts on a sermon that sounds like so many others I’ve heard over the years. I find myself studying the side of Zachary’s face until I catch Gabriel looking at me.
Adrenaline spikes through me, leaving me tingling and panicked as it recedes. For the rest of the sermon, I keep my eyes locked on Gabriel, but he never once looks in my direction again.
His sermon feels like it lasts for hours. Hours I spend debating my position in this invisible battle raging between the Brotherhood and Father Gabriel.
Finally, we end in the Father’s Prayer and begin communion. In Redford, only a handful of people would go up—those that wanted to partake.
I guess they do things differently here. Here, everyone partakes. And as more and more people file out of their pews, I get the feeling it’s compulsory.
Gabriel and Zachary make just the right amount of eye contact. Their exchange seems as normal as the one before and after. Gabriel glances up from his paten of bread and locks eyes with me.
He says nothing as he holds out the body of Christ. I lean forward, open my mouth, and let him place the bread on my tongue.
“It’s good to see you again, my child.”
I stay silent, too scared my voice will shake if I return the greeting.
It could be the play of light on his face, but I swear he frowns at me before smoothing his expression.
The sip of wine he gives me from the chalice tastes like ash.
“You coming?” Jasper asks when I don’t take his hand.
“Not yet.”
He scowls at me, sends a withering look Zachary’s way, and stalks out of the chapel like Satan is nipping at his heels.
I stay in my seat, watching Gabriel through my lashes. Instead of immediately exiting the stage like he does after morning prayers, he weaves through the loitering students and staff clasping a hand here, patting a shoulder here, murmuring, “Child this, child that.”
When it becomes obvious he’s ignoring me, I stand up and make my way to the aisle. I’m dimly aware of Zachary from my peripheral view. He’s still seated, head bowed over a standard-issue bible as if he’s contemplating the word of God before heading off to breakfast.
Gabriel is talking with Sister Miriam when I come up behind him. Miriam sees me and frowns, but I stand my ground. Gabriel turns with a small frown between his thick, dark eyebrows. When he spots me, his face lights up.
Then he turns back to Miriam. “If you’ll excuse us, Sister.”
Miriam nods, but from the way she adjusts her habit as she leaves, it’s clear what she thinks about me interrupting their conversation.
“Are you well?” Gabriel asks, reaching for me.
I sidestep his hand before I can catch myself, and instantly regret it when his smile fades and his frown returns deeper than before.
“Is something wrong, child?”
“Of course not, no,” I blurt out. I can’t seem to stop wringing my hands. “But, if you’re not busy, I’d like to, I mean, could we talk?”
“Certainly.” He reaches for my elbow as if to steer me somewhere private, but I step back again.
“Dinner. Um…could we have dinner again?”
His frown deepens. “Are you sure everything is okay?”
I’m itching to get away from his x-ray eyes. I’ve never been able to lie to him, and I don’t think that will ever change. “Tonight?”
“I’m afraid I already have plans with—” He waves away whatever he’d been going to say. A broad smile replaces his frown, and I hate the fact that it makes me feel warm inside.
“I would love nothing more.”
“Thank you, Father.”
He watches me with that same enigmatic smile as I strut away on stiff legs.
I don’t dare look up until sunlight hits my face. The relief I was expecting doesn’t arrive. I could be looking over the sid
e of a cliff.
Why does it feel like I’ve just set a date with the Devil?
Chapter Twenty
Zach
Fabric whisks. Cass slips into the lair, his eyebrows twitching when he sees me on my chair, smoking a cigarette. I guess he expected me to be sulking in the dark, fighting my demons.
“Didn’t get enough of me yesterday?” he asks, face pinched tight as he walks past and sticks his head into the bedroom. Making sure we’re alone? “And here I thought we were trying to be circumspect.”
“We set up this place for a reason. No one would think to look—”
“Might as well install a fucking revolving door at this rate.” He comes back in my direction and snatches the cigarette from my lips before I can take another drag.
Ash scatters onto his jeans as he collapses on the couch, draping himself over the cushions like he’s desperate to show me just how few fucks he gives.
I click my fingers, demanding he returns my cigarette. He whips his head around to study me as he drags hard at it, and then hands it back.
Just before I take it, he pulls away his hand. “This about the girl?”
I retract my hand, lean back in my seat, and shake loose a fresh cigarette for myself. “You got to make things right.”
He turns around to face me and lies back with his head propped up on the arm. “The fuck I do.” He hikes up his leg and then crosses an ankle over his knee so he can toy with the hem of his skinny jeans with the same hand holding the cigarette.
I stopped buying them new clothes months ago. But it doesn’t matter what Cass puts on, it always looks good. Even old shit like those jeans.
Who knew…maybe when this shit was over, he’d grow out his hair and get a few headshots. He’d easily make it as a model, and preening in front of a camera would be the perfect fodder for his ravenous narcissism.
As long as they never asked him to take off his shirt, of course.
“You scared the shit out of her,” I state, deadpan as I tug at my cigarette.
Puffs of smoke spout from Cass’s mouth as he laughs. “Thought that was the plan.”
I slam my fist into the arm of my chair. “You fucking idiot.”
Cass flinches, but recovers in a flash. He considers me for a second before leaning over to flick his cigarette into the cup on the floor by the arm of his couch. “I’m the idiot?”
“Who do you think she trusts more? A bunch of strangers on the far side of borderline, or the family friend who’s been in her life since she was in diapers?”
Cass’s face hardens at this. He despises it when I bring up the fact that the four of us are more than a little broken. He opens his mouth, but I cut him off without waiting to hear what he comes up with this time.
“We’re not trying to get her to leave anymore, or have you forgotten? We need her on our side.”
“We don’t need her,” he says. “We don’t need any—”
“You’re right. We don’t.”
Cass glares at me suspiciously.
“We don’t need her,” I repeat as I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees. “We could go back to the original plan.” I flick my wrist and purse my lips. “Wait for this place to clear out. Hope we can grab Gabriel before he gets the fuck out, and then hope we can break him.” I spread my hands. “Sure a lot of wishful thinking in that plan, but it’s the best we could come up with, remember?”
Spots of anger spring up on Cass’s pale face. “She’s going to fuck this up.”
“She will.” I nod.
He shakes his head, laughing through another exhale. “Unless I grovel for her forgiveness, right?”
His bitter words send a rush of heat through me, but I don’t call him out for them. It’s how I know I’m getting through to him. The harder he fights, the closer he is to giving in.
Like a cornered rat.
It’s how he copes. Unlike the three of us, Cass never could switch off his mind. He’s too intelligent for that. It would be like trying to dam the Amazon river with a handful of matchsticks.
So he fought.
Tooth and fucking nail.
He fought so hard that his Ghosts would be injured trying to get to him. And that made us happy. We started cheering him on—silently, of course. Even back then we knew we had to keep our Brotherhood a secret. Even as kids we understood that secret would keep us safe.
So Cass fought. Sometimes he’d win, sometimes they’d overpower him. It went on for weeks, until one of them stuck a syringe filled with heroin into his arm.
“She will fuck this up,” I say again. “But only if she’s not a hundred percent on our side.”
“That’ll take more than a half-assed apology to—”
“Which is why you’re going to make it count.”
Cass’s scowl pins me. “She won’t let me near her, you know that.”
“I also know how persuasive you can be.”
I’d meant it as a compliment, but for some reason it just makes more angry spots flare up on his cheeks.
We sit for a few seconds smoking our cigarettes, silent, brooding, waiting each other out.
“What’s so fucking special about her anyway?” he asks.
Did I hear that right?
I get up and crouch beside him to kill my cigarette in the cup by his couch. When I look up, his iridescent blue eyes glue me to the spot.
I wasn’t just blowing hot air up his ass. When he wants something—really, really wants something—it’s as if the Universe aligns to give it to him.
Even if it’s just an answer to a question I’d rather not give.
“I never said she was.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“You’re delusional.” I start to stand, but Cass grabs my arm, and not gently either. His fingernails bite into my flesh as he tugs me closer.
“What happens when you have to choose between her or us?”
A hard frown creases my brow. “That’s never going to happen.”
Cass’s expression clears. He releases me. “Yeah, let’s hope it doesn’t,” he says as he gets to his feet. I stand too, and he pushes past me to get to the door. “Because it looks like you’ve already made your choice.”
“Cass.”
He slips out the curtain.
“Cass!”
I could have gone after him, but then I’d seem desperate. Falling onto the couch, I sit stroking a thumb over the marks his fingernails left in my arm as I let the latent warmth from his body soak into mine.
He’s full of shit, but that’s nothing new. Of the three of us, his walls are the tallest and the strongest. No one’s ever broken through them. He doesn’t let his guard down for anyone, not even his brothers. But that wasn’t a requirement for joining this war. Every war needs soldiers, and those soldiers need ammunition.
Rage.
Hate.
Vengeance.
In this case, we each had to bring our own. But me and Rube and Apollo? We’re weak, flickering candles compared to Cass.
He’s the motherfucking sun.
Chapter Twenty-One
Trinity
After breakfast, I spend a few hours at the tiny desk in our room catching up on my homework. Jasper is there for a while, reading a book, and then he disappears without a word. I decide to close the bedroom door behind him, just in case someone—Cass—decides to pop in for an unannounced visit.
I wish more and more every day that I had a damn key.
A few minutes before the lunch bell gongs, I hear a soft sound by the door. I whip my head around to stare at the folded paper someone pushed under the door.
The hair on the back of my neck stands up as I wait, but thankfully the door stays closed.
When my heartbeat goes back to normal, I stand and fetch the note.
SHOWER?
The words all are in capitals, stiff and boxy.
Reuben.
He’s letting me use his bathroom again. Which is so sweet, especially with
tonight’s dinner in mind. I guess now would be the perfect time to go—everyone else would be in the dining hall, eating. If I hurried, I might still make lunch once I was done, but I’d happily trade a meal for a private shower.
Plus, I’d get to see Reuben again.
The prospect does strange things to my tummy and I have to push away the thought so I can figure out what I’ll be wearing to dinner tonight.
I knock quietly on Reuben’s door. Why does no one except Father Gabriel answer their doors in this place? After a third knock I try the handle, eager to get out of the hall before someone spots me.
The handle turns.
The door opens.
I let out a relieved sigh when it opens and quickly slip inside. The apartment isn’t massive, but the minimalistic decor makes it seem pretty spacious. How do students get apartments like these? What does Cass’s room look like? Zachary’s? Apollo’s?
“Hello?”
No answer.
I head for the bathroom and then hesitate. Is it weird that Reuben’s not here? Maybe he’s sleeping. Or studying with headphones on.
“Hello?” I push open his bedroom door and step inside, biting the inside of my lip. I should be in the shower already but damn it I’m too fucking nosy. I know so little about Reuben that I can’t bear to pass up a chance to poke around.
After all, it’s obvious the Brotherhood doesn’t keep anything in their lair.
I go through Reuben’s closet and find nothing but clothes. Only some books and a lamp on his desk. Notepads inside the drawers, all filled with school work. Something starts nagging at me, but I’m too busy snooping to give it any thought. He could be back at any minute. For all I know, he just stepped outside to make a call or smoke a cigarette.
My eyes move around the room until they settle on the bible on Reuben’s nightstand. When it falls open in my hands a hard shiver courses through me.
Phrases in every sentence of every verse on every page have been highlighted.
I flip through, going faster and faster until I can’t make out anything but an orange blur, but still the odd phrase leaps out at me.