by Logan Fox
But then I realize it’s the heroin wearing off.
Can’t let him know, though. I have to take whatever advantage I can get, even a tiny one. So I make sure not to move. I try and keep my breathing at the same steady pace. And I continue talking.
“Apollo.”
Gabriel’s lips part suddenly, as if he’s about to object. But he says nothing. Just sits there on the edge of the bath, gripping the porcelain with white-knuckled hands.
“He’s the one that broke your nose.”
His eyes flinch. He shakes his head. “I don’t know what—”
“Cassius.”
Gabriel’s chest moves as he takes a deep breath. He suddenly seems to break out of whatever spell he’d been under. Standing, he steps closer, towering over me.
His expression is neutral as he slides his hand under my armpits and lifts me onto my feet.
And I let him.
Because if I try to fight him now, there’s no way I’ll win. And then he’ll know I tried to trick him. I can’t take a chance like that—I don’t know how many I’ll get. Right now, he’s preoccupied. I’ve pushed him off course.
“I guess they probably changed their names or something,” I say.
I expect him to deny it again. But this time he’s silent. I guess he’s trying to ignore me, but I can tell from the aggression in his movements that what I’m saying is hitting home.
The way he tugs at my dress to get it off. How his face contorts when I do nothing to help or hinder him. The way he draws back, as if startled by the fact that I’m not wearing underwear.
I have to use everything I can.
“They cut my panties off with a knife,” I tell him. Lying is so easy. Maybe it’s something to do with the residue of the drug floating around in my brain. I have no idea how they work, but it’s as if it’s annihilated every single filter I’ve ever had.
“Trinity.” His voice is unsteady. He steps back, watches me. “Stop.”
“Why?” I tilt my head to the side. “I thought you like this kind of thing.”
His eyes go wide again. “You don’t know anything,” he whispers furiously. “You’re a child playing with—”
“I thought you liked children,” I say. It’s becoming more difficult to keep my voice neutral. Emotions are coming back. Shame. I don’t want to be standing naked in front of a priest. In front of a man I once thought of as my only friend.
But I also don’t want to stay here, with him. I don’t want to find out what he planned to do with me here, alone in my old house. The fact that he keeps comparing me with my mother, a woman he claims to have loved, when I can see only hate in his eyes.
“What are you insinuating?” He takes another step back. He’s almost at the closed door now. Can I drive him out completely?
I put my head straight again, fight every cell in my body not to cover my chest or twist my legs. “I’m saying I know about the children you kept in the basement. The ones you hired out to those men.”
I step forward.
His back hits the closed door. His eyes go even wider, and they start searching my face, frantic. What are you looking for, Gabriel? A sign that this is a nightmare, and not real life?
Trust me, that wish never comes true.
“I don’t know what you’re—” he says hoarsely.
“And they know about you.” I stop walking because I can’t bear to be closer right now. My skin feels like it’s crawling with insects. Hundreds of them. The kind with little hooks all over their legs. And those legs, those hooks, they keep snagging on the fine hairs all over my naked body.
“No,” he whispers, giving his head one shake. “No, you’re wrong. You’ve got it all wrong.”
And that’s when the cold hits me.
I don’t know how those boys kept the cold out, because I can’t. I’ve never been able to. It’s like I was wearing a blanket, and some invisible hand snatched it away.
A shudder ripples through me so hard that my teeth clench.
Gabriel looks at me. At my trembling body. And I guess he realizes what’s happening. Something switches on in his head. Or off.
Because where I was convinced—convinced—he was about to tell me everything, perhaps even break down in a fit of conscience—
Gabriel throws back his head and laughs. Just once.
He grabs me.
On instinct, I struggle.
But I guess he’s had a lot of practice dealing with unruly kids, because he kicks my legs out from under me and tips me to the side in one smooth motion.
My shin slams into the side of the bath, but that barely slows me.
One minute I’m standing, the next I’m under a sea of hot water and bubbles. My gasp of shock has me choking, my throat burning as water goes where it shouldn’t.
I fucked up.
I pushed too hard.
I thought I was ready, but I clearly wasn’t. My struggles are weak and pathetically ineffectual against Gabriel’s strong arms.
He easily holds me under the water. When I reach up and try to gauge out his eyes, all I’m really doing is brushing his face with my fingers.
I manage to close my mouth. Hold my breath. It hurts like nothing I’ve ever felt, because my lungs still want to expel the water that went down my windpipe. And I’m trying to suppress those convulsions best I can.
Pain flickers red hot inside me. Building. Building.
My eyes are open, and they burn too because the water’s too hot.
I don’t know how long I can hold my breath, but it already feels like it’s been too long.
My limbs are so heavy. My body weighs a fucking ton.
I can’t even reach Gabriel’s face anymore. So I try and grab onto his shirt.
Can’t hold on.
Hands slap into the water.
My body convulses on its own, this time I can’t stop it, and my lungs empty themselves. It takes forever, but then it’s over in a heartbeat.
Only pain and emptiness left now.
And the faint sensation of his hands on my shoulders, holding me down.
Chapter Nine
Rube
“Anything?” Apollo asks quietly as soon as he spots me. I’m sitting on the couch, Trinity’s big white bible on my lap. I was reading it, but not with enthusiasm like I usually do. More just paging through, hoping for a sign that she’d read it too. A dog-eared corner. Some notes in pencil.
But there’s no trace of her on here.
Maybe she never even opened it.
Which means I have nothing to remember her by.
“I’d have told you,” I say, closing the bible and letting out a sigh.
It’s been hours since I watched that car drive away. I’ve been waiting for a contact of mine who has an in at the Bureau to run Gabriel’s plates and see if he comes up anywhere. But it’s as if they disappeared off the face of the planet. For all I know, they switched cars as soon as they hit Redwater.
I rub my eyelids.
Zachary’s been MIA. I saw him last at the front entrance of Saint Amos, a fact I reluctantly laid out to my brothers as we began piecing together what had happened this morning.
None of them reacted like I’d expected when I told them what Zach had done. Cass just stared, and Apollo let out a rueful snort like I’d told him he lost a bet he hadn’t been expecting to win anyway.
I don’t even know if he’s still here at Saint Amos. We’d know when we go to the garage. And that’ll be soon, because we have to leave.
That much we’ve decided on at least.
But where do we go? Anywhere past Redwater could be taking us further away from Trinity, from Gabriel. And we’d have no way of knowing.
We tried everything. Searched every record of Gabriel and Trinity’s in the admin office. All we found were dead ends. Gabriel had cleaned house.
I don’t blame Zach for hiding. I would too if I got a message like the one I sent him earlier.
WE WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU
/> I didn’t have to ask the others. I know they feel the same. Apollo’s chewed his nails to the quick. I’m surprised Cass hasn’t passed out from oxygen deprivation from chain-smoking.
They’re fucked.
We’re fucked.
And Zach did nothing. He just stood there and watched. For all we know, he helped Gabriel carry Trinity to his damn car. Maybe even wished him well as Gabriel sped off.
“Might as well head to Redwater,” I say, standing. “Nothing more we can do here.”
“I’ll get Cass,” Apollo says, turning.
I go to put Trinity’s bible on the coffee table, but then hesitate.
I should take it with.
If we find her, I want to give it back to her.
Not if. When.
When.
When.
“What were you reading?” Apollo asks.
I frown at him. “Nothing specific.”
“I mean…” Apollo rolls his eyes. “Read it to me.” He lifts his shoulders.
“You want me to read to you from the bible?” I know my frown is deep, but Apollo looks hurt at my expression.
“Well, yeah.” He flicks his hand. “Wanna know what it says.”
I turn my head a little to the side. “It’s the bible,” I repeat. “It says a lot.”
He crosses his arms over his chest. “Never mind then,” he mutters and heads for the door. Apollo’s never once shown an interest in religion. Spirituality, maybe, when he’s high. But that’s always been a more Universal Mind thing.
I didn’t even stop for a moment to think what he and Cass are going through right now. How losing Trinity, then Gabriel, then Zach, affected them.
I clear my throat, and Apollo pauses by the door. Quickly scanning the page, I pick the first verse that stands on its own.
“Moreover, brethren, I would not that ye should be ignorant, how that all our fathers were under the cloud, and all passed through the sea. And were all baptized unto Moses in the cloud and—”
Apollo cuts me off with a wave of his hand. “Stop, stop. What use is that?”
“What were you expecting?” I ask, sitting back, closing the book, and putting it down on the cushion beside me. “A map?”
“Something inspiring,” he says. “Not random—” He waves his hand again. “Forget it. I’ll go find Cass and meet you at the garage.”
I shake my head, letting out a long sigh as he closes the door behind him. Something inspiring?
I should have flipped to Revelations instead, read him chapter twenty verse ten.
And the devil that deceived them was cast into the lake of fire and brimstone, where the beast and the false prophet are, and shall be tormented day and night for ever and ever.
Maybe knowing that God had special plans for our Ghosts once they passed over would have inspired him.
My apartment door bursts open.
Apollo stands there in the doorway, hair disheveled, eyes wide.
I’m already on my feet, ready to attack whoever’s behind him. But he just grins at me, claps his hands.
“I love that fucking book!” he yells, pointing at Trinity’s gold-trimmed bible.
“What—”
He waves away the question, beckoning me to follow him. “We have to get to town, now!”
“Apollo, what—”
“I know how to find her, Rube!” His grin is infectious, especially paired with the exact words I’ve been waiting to hear all day.
I know how to find her.
Chapter Ten
Apollo
“Wifi password,” I bark out at the first waitress I see.
Her head moves back as she gives me a filthy stare, then she clicks her tongue. “All right,” she says. “Settle down.” Still frowning, she points with her chin. “Where you sitting?”
I’m about to frisk her for the damn password when someone’s shoulder brushes mine. The waitress turns from me, and her frown dissolves instantly.
Should’ve listened to Rube. He told me to let Cass go in first. Nothing loosens lips like Cass’s face.
“Hey, darlin’,” Cass says, slipping in front of me. “We’re outside, table twelve. Can’t pass up a chance to watch that glorious sunset, now can we?”
I don’t even know what accent he’s putting on. But it doesn’t matter, because it works. He’s barely done speaking before the waitress is fumbling in her apron. “We got these paper thingies now,” she’s saying, her eyes glued on Cass as she rummages around. “They’re changing it like every day.”
“I hear you,” Cass says. He sticks his arm around his back and pushes me away with his fingertips.
I guess he can’t work his magic when I’m glaring at his conquest from behind his shoulder and willing them to get on with it. I grit my teeth, but I back off and go back outside.
Rube looks up as I thump down on the wrought iron chair. We chose a spot a little away from the rest, although this time of day, the town is pretty quiet. Everyone looks a little tired, like the drove of students they must have had in this place earlier today exhausted them.
Redwater’s only diner is a nice enough place, but I’m itching to be on the road and headed toward wherever Trinity is. And that waitress back there has my hands tied.
Rube had to hot-wire Sister Miriam’s old Ford to get us here. No idea why she left it behind—maybe she went on the bus—but it saved us because Zach’s SUV wasn’t in the garage. We’ll have to switch cars before we leave here, of course. Rube’s been eyeing an old truck parked next to the liquor store that has dust on the windscreen. If we can get it to start, then hopefully it won’t be missed before we’re far enough along to where we need to go.
Soon as I figure out where the hell that is.
“Coffee?” Rube asks.
“Yeah. Can we get something to eat?”
He frowns, and then nods. “But no lobster.”
With Zachary gone, we only have a handful of cash between the three of us. We never figured a day would come when Zach wouldn’t be there, swiping a card for whatever we needed.
How naive.
I still can’t get over what he did, even though I kinda expected something like that to happen eventually. He’s never been on board with Trinity. He’s been treating her like the enemy from day one. And we went right along, because he laid it out so logically that it only seemed right.
I guess we’ve trusted him for too long.
Cass saunters back a minute later with a piece of paper dangling from his fingertips. I snatch it from him before he even has a chance to sit down.
I snort when I see what’s written on the back. “She gave you her number?”
Cass shrugs, lounging in his chair like he was born without a spine. “Told her I wouldn’t call.”
Reuben rolls his eyes and then watches me type in the password.
It’s one of those generated ones that are supposedly so secure. But the more random a password is, the easier a hacking program can crack it. It’s passwords made out of words or phrases that are the hardest to crack. That’s why Bitcoin wallets are usually protected with a seed phrase—a string of twelve random words that are easy enough to remember, but near impossible to crack without the use of a supercomputer.
That’s why I know for a fact that the password to Gabriel’s secret archive is some kind of phrase. My program’s still trying to crack it, but I doubt it’ll happen any time this century.
Soon as my laptop connects to the diner’s wi-fi, I start looking for Trinity.
The world dissolves as I hunt through every database I can access.
Baptism.
Reuben laughed when I told him. We all laughed. Because it was so damn basic, we should have thought of it hours ago.
Trinity was baptized. Had to have been. Catholic parents and a priest as a family friend? No way around it.
And parishes keep baptism records. They have all kinds of useful shit on them like parent information, addresses, stuff like that.
I have Trinity’s date of birth from the admin file. Her parent’s first and last names too. But the rest of the file was empty. There were a few notes sent to Social Services requesting more info, but I guess their turnaround time is longer than she’s been at Saint Amos.
All I need to know is which parish keeps her records.
I hop around the Internet, finding bits of information to add to my search.
Someone shoves a cup of coffee my way. I drink it down without tasting it, but fully appreciating the jolt of caffeine. A plate of food arrives, and it smells damn tempting, but I’m already down the rabbit hole so it grows cold beside me.
The light changes. Hues shift. Streetlights come on. The temperature drops.
And then I have it.
An address.
I look up. Cass and Rube are staring at me. “Well?” Cass says. “Tell us.”
“It’s not much.” I grab a fry off my plate, swallow it down despite how cold it is. “But it’s a start.”
Chapter Eleven
Zach
I’m driving down the I-44—going too fast and giving way too few fucks. The joint I’m smoking helps. The bottle of whiskey in the glove compartment I sip at every now then, that helps most of all.
I never thought it would be this hard walking away from them. Or, in my case, driving away. Never thought I’d feel compelled to go back to them. To her.
But I am. And it is.
I hit the joint again. Tasteless. But I guess that happens if you keep smoking the same shit over and over.
No it doesn’t.
I could have stopped Gabriel. If I didn’t want to get my hands dirty, I could have called my brothers, warned them. They could have stopped him.
But I didn’t.
They said they’ll never forgive me for that.
Fuck—I’ll never forgive myself for that.
A part of me was grateful he was leaving. And that part of me managed to take control long enough to sit back and let him walk away. But the rest of me? Numb, because it felt like I was losing something more important than my charred and blackened soul.