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

by Logan Fox

“Oh no, that was somewhere in town.” Langley waves a dismissive hand. “I mean, for such a gifted child to lose her parents. So young.”

  “Gifted?” I sound incredulous, and Langley doesn’t like that one bit.

  Her eyes are narrowed when she turns back to look at me. “Father Gabriel always said she was a gift from God. Her mother couldn’t conceive for many years.” Langley shakes her head, clucks like a mother hen. “But then Keith and Monica found God, and He blessed them with a child.”

  Seems everyone knows everyone in this place. Hell on earth.

  I don’t know how to react to what she said, so I don’t. Instead I finally take a small sip of lemonade and try not to think about how much sugar it has in it.

  “Such a wonderful family,” Langley says. She stares out the window again, a fond look on her face. “That child was always so sweet. A true blessing. Never once when I looked after her did she as much as make a fuss.”

  Looked after?

  “Now I remember,” I say, nodding and toying with another piece of cookie. “I was wondering where I’d heard your name. Trinity mentioned you.”

  “Oh, she did?” The old lady blinks rapidly. Dear God, is she fogging up? “How kind of her.”

  “Said you were her favorite babysitter.”

  Langley’s eyes start brimming. She hurriedly looks away, and then seems to come to. “Oh, uh, you’ll be needing that donation.” She stands before I have a chance to ask her what the hell she’s on about.

  She disappears down the hall, and I take my drink and pour it down the sink. When she comes back in, I’m in my seat again, just putting the glass back on the table. Her already wide smile grows when she spots my empty glass. “Would you like another?”

  “Oh no,” I tell her, patting my stomach like we’ve just finished Thanksgiving dinner together. “Folks around here are too kind.”

  She giggles a little at this and starts writing out a check.

  Like taking donations from the congregation.

  She hands it to me, but doesn’t let go. “Where is your little…the clipboard? With the—” she gestures vaguely “—with the place for me to sign?”

  I pat my pockets theatrically. “You know, Miss Langley, I think I left it next door.”

  Her eyes almost goggle out of their sockets. With surprising speed for such an aging gal, she’s on her feet, her head whipping to that same kitchen window as before. “Father Gabriel is back?”

  And then it’s as if her lemonade was spiked with fucking amphetamines. I’m standing a second later, ruthlessly suppressing the urge to run.

  “What do you mean?” My voice comes from far away.

  “Gabriel!” She turns to me, clasps her hands again. This time like she’s begging. “Oh, I thought… I thought you just came from him. I was hoping he’d come back.”

  I want to shake her until her teeth rattle. “Back where? I don’t—”

  “Didn’t Trinity tell you?”

  My heart bangs into my breastbone as if to try and get me moving. “Tell me what?” I’m grimacing at her through my teeth, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

  “Father Gabriel. He moved into their old house. I guess the estate put it up for sale, but I never saw a board outside. And I’d have noticed—they’re going up all over the place! Why, we had a young couple move in right across the road. Big house for just the two of them. You’d think they’re planning to fill it, but I don’t know. The woman looks closer to forty than thirty.” Langley shrugs, as if the fact that she’s rambling isn’t having any effect on me.

  It is.

  I’m about to have a heart attack if she doesn’t tell me what I need to know. “Gabriel is living next door?”

  “Yes, yes he is. But he’s hardly ever here. Still, so much better than living next door to a stranger, wouldn’t you say?”

  I don’t say anything.

  I turn and I run the fuck out of that house like the devil himself is breathing down my fucking neck.

  They’re here for Trinity, not Gabriel. Somehow, they got the address for her old house. That’s why they parked down the street.

  But if Gabriel bought the property, who the fuck knows what kind of traps he laid out for unwanted guests?

  I run, and I don’t stop.

  I plow right through Langley’s roses, ignoring the thorns that prick at my skin, and I race across the next-door neighbor’s lawn.

  But I’m too late.

  Cass is up front, about to try and open the door. Fuck, maybe he’s even going to try knocking first.

  Reuben and Apollo? They’re straggling behind, fuck knows why.

  I’m closer to Cass than they are, but I’m still too far away.

  All I can say is, thank God for Miss Langley’s lemonade.

  When I grit my teeth and push, I go a little faster. I clear the hedge separating me from Cass like an Olympic hurdler.

  I crash into him just as the door opens.

  Just in time to see Trinity’s shocked face.

  Just in time to see the shadow deeper in the house.

  A man, lifting a gun.

  Because of course he has a fucking gun. Why wouldn’t he?

  Cass and I go over another rose bush. He’s yelling. I scramble up, dart back to the door.

  Trinity is still standing there, blocking me. She doesn’t seem to realize she’s about to die.

  It’s better, not knowing.

  As soon as I shove her out of the way, that gun is on me. Pointing at me. I know I’m already dead.

  And the knowledge sits there like heartburn in my brain. It tries to overwhelm me, to render me useless through fear, but I shove it away even harder than I shoved her away.

  I sprint down the passage. Three steps, and I’m there. Staring into a pair of brown eyes that should recognize me, but don’t.

  When I slam into Gabriel, the gun goes off.

  But it’s fine, because it doesn’t hurt. I’m still moving, still fighting.

  I herd him backward through momentum and rage. Pushing, pushing.

  We end up in the living room a second later. His teeth are bared like a wild animal’s. I’m snarling like a beast. We tackle each other, end up on the carpet. I get a blow to his head. He gets a knee to my groin.

  And then the gun goes off again.

  And this time…

  This time there is pain.

  It’s vast and it’s endless and fucking magnificent in its abundance.

  But that’s not fine, because now I can’t fight anymore. And Gabriel…he’s on his feet. He’s running.

  Thank you Jesus.

  He’s not running toward the front door. Toward Trinity or my brothers.

  The cowardly fuck is running away.

  Thank Christ.

  I try to cross myself, but my body just lies there.

  Body and mind. Two different things entirely.

  I’m still here. I’m still conscious. But all I can do is watch and observe—paralyzed as, all around me, the world dissolves into chaos.

  Chapter Twenty

  Rube

  I’ve never felt so torn in my life. My body is being sent in two different directions by a mind suddenly unable to prioritize. But I’m rooted to the spot because this is where Zachary is lying.

  We’re in Trinity’s living room, judging from the couches and the dusty television set. But Trinity’s not here. She’s still in the passage by the front door.

  That’s where I want to be.

  I caught a glimpse of Gabriel a second before he turned a corner and disappeared toward the back of the house. No doubt escaping through the back door we would have been covering if Cass hadn’t been so fucking impulsive.

  That’s where I want to be too.

  Instead I’m standing here, watching Zachary’s blood soak into the carpet.

  And then Trinity screams, and it’s as if everyone’s minds come back from wherever they’d wandered off to.

  “He’s getting away!” Cass says, but he’s ru
nning toward Trinity, not Gabriel.

  Apollo falls to his knees beside me, inadvertently soaking his jeans in blood. “Is he dead?”

  I don’t know.

  I just don’t fucking know.

  “Call an ambulance,” I tell Apollo.

  But now his hands are full of blood because he was trying to stop it running out of the two holes in Zachary’s torso, and that’s freaking him out and he’s gone and frozen up.

  “Apollo!”

  Brown eyes snap to me. “Yes?”

  He can’t be here. Not around all this blood. Like a fucking candle in a snow storm.

  And I can’t let Gabriel get away either.

  It shouldn’t be this easy to make crucial decisions, but it’s as if there’s no choice to make at all.

  “Don’t let him get away!” My voice is too loud—it booms back to us—but maybe that’s what gets Apollo on his feet. I stab a finger down the passage. “Follow him!”

  Apollo turns and runs.

  “Just follow him!” I yell after Apollo’s retreating back, with no clue if he heard me or not.

  Then it’s back to Zach because a glance behind me shows Cass is examining Trinity like he just got his Ph.D.

  Guess neither of them is phoning the ambulance.

  I fish my phone out of my pocket. There’s a part of me that’s sitting back and watching me operate, and it’s gobsmacked that I’m still functioning. That I’m lucid. That my voice is legible when the 911 operator on the other end of the line answers my call.

  But that’s because they need me right now. My brothers. Trinity. They need me to be strong. I can freak out later, or not at all. I don’t need to add fuel to this fucking inferno.

  “I need an ambulance.”

  And then I go blank, because I guess a part of me isn’t all that focused right now.

  “2192 Maude Street,” comes Trinity’s voice. It’s faint, but it’s steady.

  That’s my girl.

  The operator starts talking me through emergency procedures. Applying pressure to Zachary’s wounds to stop the bleeding. And I try. Fuck, I try. But his blood keeps seeping through my fingers. And it’s eating into the carpet and heading for my knees.

  I shift back like it’s contagious.

  Cass appears on the other side of Zach’s limp body. He moves away one of my hands, using both of his to stop the flow of blood from the wound.

  I mimic him.

  And slowly the blood stops trickling through my fingers. I like to think I did that. That I somehow stemmed the flow.

  But it could be that Zach’s heart has stopped pumping.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Apollo

  Leaves and low-hanging branches whip against my face. Holy shit, did Gabriel run track or something? I’m struggling to keep up. He had less than a minute head start on me.

  We’re weaving our way through the dividing line sandwiched between properties. Not all of the houses have fences, but most of them do have trees and shrubs for privacy.

  Gabriel obviously knows this area very well. He’s pulling all the moves—throwing trash cans between us, rousing dogs who must have been distant offspring of Cujo.

  All I can do is try and keep him in sight. Lucky for me, he’s leaving behind a path of devastation. Broken branches, rustling shrubs, gates thrown open.

  I chase him over a road, and then down a cement embankment.

  And then I lose him.

  I’m panting, bloody hands on my bloody knees as I scan left and right. The embankment led down to a storm drain, but there’s no fucking way I’m going into that black hole.

  I’m not an idiot.

  I know he’s waiting in there for me.

  Shit!

  I could go over the top. But if he’s watching then he’ll know what I’m trying to do. So should I stay, or should I—

  Something slams into the back of my head.

  I land on hands and knees, fire scraping over my palms as I skid over the cement floor.

  Before I can scramble up, a foot hits me square in the stomach.

  God! Again? Fuck!

  I kick out, manage to catch Gabriel’s shin. Not that it fucking helps—I could have been kicking a tree stump.

  He takes a step back, and then surges forward again. Grabs the back of my neck. Hauls me to my feet.

  I catch the crook of his arm when he goes to punch me, and that he wasn’t expecting. But he recovers so fast, I don’t even have time for some kind of counter strike.

  He rips his arm free and shoves me like we’re a pair of bullies marking turf in the schoolyard.

  I slam into the side of the storm drain’s massive mouth, banging my head.

  There go the last of my fond childhood memories.

  And that’s when Gabriel whips out his gun. Which is round about the same time I put my hands up.

  Oh God, the blood. I squeeze my eyes closed and try my best to remain fixed to the earth.

  “Okay! I yield!”

  And he laughs. The fucker actually laughs. There’s a click from the gun, which I assume is him taking off the safety.

  I’m supposed to know about these things, but I was so high when Zach took us for practice shooting. I can’t remember a damn thing.

  Instead of yielding, like I asked him so damn nicely, Gabriel grabs my shirt and rams me into the concrete wall again. Then he drags me around the corner. It’s an overcast day, so there’s no sharp line in the limbo between shadow and light. Just a dark haze.

  All the better to rape you in, my dear.

  Jesus, fuck, no.

  I tilt forward to try and push him out of the way. The icy nozzle of a gun burrows into my forehead, urging my head back and back and back until it presses against the uneven wall behind me.

  Christ.

  I lift my hands, close my eyes. “Just make it quick, okay? And if it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer it if you rape me after I’m dead.”

  There’s another click, and that confuses the fuck out of me, because I know some guns have a hammer, but this one doesn’t.

  I open one eye, then the other.

  Gabriel’s lowering the gun.

  But the moment I open my mouth to thank him, it’s up again.

  “Stay where you are,” he says.

  He wasn’t going to kill me? Fuck me? Why? I mean, I’m grateful obviously, but confused. But there’s no way in hell I’m going to antagonize him into shooting me. What good would that do anyone?

  “Sure, yeah. I’ll stay right here.”

  My hands are still up, and it’s taking quite a lot of my concentration to ignore the smell of copper in the air. I should be fine, long as I don’t dwell. Long as I don’t look at my hands.

  Gabriel trains the gun on me as he steps back.

  Follow him.

  Aw, fuck, Rube. I wanna, but he’s going to kill me if I try.

  Follow him.

  “Hey, uh…”

  Gabriel pauses. The hand around the gun tightens.

  “I just want to know one thing.”

  He frowns at me. “Quiet.”

  I curl the fingers of one hand until just my index is up. “Just one. Please? Humor me? It’s the least you can do.”

  Gabriel shakes his head like he’s wondering which of the two of us have lost our minds.

  Probably both.

  “What?” he snaps, taking another step back.

  “Why’d you do it?”

  He stops. “Do what?”

  “The basement. The kids. Us.” I point at myself with my finger. “I mean…that wasn’t cool, man. Seriously. Are you a psychopath? Because you’re lacking all sorts of empathy.”

  Gabriel’s lips lift into a snarl, and it looks like he’s reconsidering letting me live. But fuck it. I mean…

  “That’s why you’re following me?” Gabriel moves the gun a little closer as if he’s pointing with it. “Talk to Trinity. I told her everything.”

  “Like how you chose us? Did you tell her tha
t? Because I’ve always wondered about that. I mean, compared to Cass and Rube, even Zach, I’m not much of a looker.”

  Gabriel shakes his head as if he’s got something in his ear. “I don’t know why she chose you.”

  “She? She who?” Was it Zachary’s mom? I never met the woman, but—

  “Monica chose. She…she drew less attention than Keith. No one thought twice about her sitting in the park, reading a book.”

  Wait…Monica? As in Trinity’s mom? But there’s a look in Gabriel’s eyes as if he’s waiting to see my reaction. Playing me.

  “Yeah, okay. Blame it on a dead girl.” I nod a few times. “Clever. No one can prove you wrong.”

  Another snarl. “You want proof?” He steps closer and jams the gun against my chest.

  If I’d been paying closer attention at that shooting range, I might have remembered how to take a gun off someone. I mean, I’m pretty sure that’s something they cover.

  But I didn’t.

  So I can’t.

  I don’t dare try. Because his finger is curled around the trigger, and I have a feeling the smallest jolt will send a bullet straight into my heart. Ain’t no coming back from that, not unless you’re the Son of God. And I’m pretty sure he’s come and gone.

  “Yeah, proof would be nice,” I tell him, barely moving my lips in case he sees it as a threat. “But only if it’s no trouble. Don’t want you going out of your way to prove your innocence or anything.”

  He narrows his eyes at me. His lips move. “Apollo.”

  “You got me.” It’s hard to be cheery when there’s a gun digging a hole in your pec, but I fucking try.

  “You worked in the laundry at Saint Amos.” His voice is soft now, his eyes unfocused.

  “It was the kitchen, actually. But you knew that already.”

  “Why would I?”

  And it’s fucking weird, in that second, I believe him. But I’m probably biased because my cause of death is so close I can lick it.

  “Everything you’re looking for is on Keith’s hard drive.”

  If I had ears like a dog, they’d be pricking up right now. “Yeah? Where’s that? Gomorrah? Sodom?” I can’t help it. I kid around when I’m nervous.

  The way Gabriel’s jaw ticks, he’s not amused.