by Sweet, Izzy
Gabriel bends down and at least has the decency to drop his voice to almost a whisper as he says, “Are you sure? Because I don’t remember using any protection last night…”
Lord have mercy, is he purposely trying to make me die of embarrassment?
Puffing his chest out, Gabriel straightens, looking entirely too sure of himself.
And it’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him he may not have used protection, but I did. I’ve had an IUD for a couple of years now, and I can’t even remember the last time I had a period. In fact, last night, after sex, was the first time I’ve had some cramping and a little spotting in a long time.
But I figure that was just because Gabriel was so rough and my body wasn’t used to it.
“No kids,” I repeat, trying to drill it in without revealing my little secret.
“We’ll see,” Gabriel says smugly and tosses the tape back to James.
Yeah… no we won’t. Unless he has some way of removing my IUD without me knowing it… And I seriously, seriously doubt he’d resort to that unless he’s a sick fuck.
Sighing, I shake my head and roll my eyes.
James slams his trunk shut. “Ready to pay Thomas a visit?”
Gabriel’s face instantly grows grim and I feel a little pang of regret that I gave him shit about the kid thing.
I totally forgot we were here to visit his fallen brothers today.
Nodding his head, he sighs like a man who’s been carrying too much weight, and says, “Lead the way.”
12
Gabriel
Walking toward the graves, I glance over at Meghan. “You don’t have to be here for this. You can wait in the truck if you want.”
Shaking her dark hair from her eyes, she looks up at me. “No, I don’t have to be. I want to be.”
Not entirely sure what to make of that statement, I look down to Paul’s headstone. It’s simple and unadorned. His life condensed down to two dates. Right beside his, I see Thomas’s. Brothers in life, and now in eternity, if there is one.
Will I be next to them? I used to think when I finally died in prison, my body would be burnt in some crematorium.
Then my ashes would be thrown in a dumpster.
Heaven or hell… I don’t really believe all that bullshit. I won’t be repenting for the shit I’ve done. I’m not sorry for any of it. But what happens after I die has started to itch in the back of my head. What happens to Meghan? I’d do that whole corny I’d come back from hell to keep her safe thing, but what’s that really mean?
James stands to my left. He points to an area past a strand of trees and a small hill. “Peter’s on the other side of the hill with his grandmother. It wasn’t in his will, but she left a spot for him beside her if he wanted it.”
“How’d Paul and Thomas get these spots?” I ask, motioning around us.
It’s nice, I guess, in this part of the cemetery. Trees with shade and somewhat close to a small lake. Although there seems to be a lot of unused land around these two plots.
“Lucifer bought out this section,” he says with a small shrug and looks around us. “Any plot that doesn’t have a stone is ours. He’s keeping us together, I guess. Family and all that shit.”
Even in death, we’ll be his hellhounds and soldiers.
“That’s comforting…” Meghan says with a hint of sarcasm.
“Where did Bart end up?” I ask James.
“Andrew dealt with him and he didn’t offer any answers,” James says as we both turn toward the sound of a vehicle driving up the road.
Hand slowly sliding to the gun on my hip, I move just enough to put myself in-between Meghan and the blacked-out Cadillac that slows as it gets closer to us.
“Expecting friends?” I ask James quickly.
“No, but I know who it is.” James grumbles quietly to me.
Meghan goes to step up beside me, but I shuffle in her path. “Hold on there, little bit. Need to see first what we’re dealing with.”
“Seriously?” she whispers at my back.
“Y’all relax, this one isn’t dangerous in the shoot-us sense.” James chuckles as he looks to us both.
“Who is it?” I ask.
James doesn’t answer though, he just starts walking toward our vehicles where the black Cadillac has come to a stop at. As the back door opens, a loud sigh comes out of me like a huge gust of fuckery.
Stepping out of the car, an old man slowly straightens up with the aid of a wooden cane. His gnarled hands are time-worn and he has a thick bearded face.
Ten years ago, before I went into prison, I remember seeing the old man looking at me much like he does now. Sad and regretful. His thick black beard has grown whiter and grayer, though. The wrinkles around his eyes have transitioned from laugh lines to old man lines. He’s hunched more now, where he used to stand tall and proud. Time seems to have worn on him. His black coat, black pants, and black shirt all neatly pressed, and the white of his priestly collar looks out of place on him.
“Is that a priest?” Meghan asks with confusion.
“Yeah, Father Coss,” James says.
“He looks like a bear that got really old,” she says, “or… something… He’s really a priest?”
“Yeah, just like all the other ones. Corrupt as the day is long and full of fire,” I say.
He doesn’t leave the concrete of the drive, just stands there waiting for us to make our way over to him. He does that fucking majestic wait shit, as if us peasants shall march up to him like he’s the fucking Pope.
When we get close enough for my tastes, I stop Meghan, and say to the man, “Coss.”
“Gabriel. James.” He nods to us all, then he smiles at Meghan. “Miss?”
“Meghan, sir.” Meghan says quietly and for some fucking reason she’s being almost shy about it.
“Ah, Meghan…” Father Coss looks at us all. “It’s good to see you. I’m glad you came to pay your respects to Paul and Thomas, Gabriel. Have you had a chance to stop by Peter’s?”
“Some other time,” I say.
James moves to my side as he nods his head toward Father Coss. “I’ll be heading out. I’ve got places to be and sins to atone for.”
Father Coss gives James a frown. “When’s the last time you thought about coming to confessional, James?”
“Same time the priest asked to see my no-no spot.”
“James Alexander Po—” Father Coss exclaims before being cut off.
“You finish that sentence, Father, and I’ll nail your bits to the alter like I did the last priest,” James says with a laugh as he walks past the priest and heads to his car.
“What do you want, Coss?” I ask as I watch James make the lucky getaway.
“I came to speak with you now that you’re out of that damnable prison. Simon kindly told me where to find you, since I highly doubted I’d be able to get you into the church just yet,” he says almost fucking magnanimously, as if I seek his fucking forgiveness.
“I’ll make sure to shoot Simon in the leg,” I say as I reach down to grab Meghan’s hand.
“Gabriel, what happened ten years ago… We need to talk about that day… Perhaps we could have Miss Meghan give us a moment to talk,” he suggests, and I can see he desperately wants to do this alone.
He wants to do this in private, where his fucking past sins don’t have to be brought out into the light of day.
“Nah, she stays by my side, Coss. I met her in a church, if that helps any, but as James said… Sins to commit and nothing to atone for.”
Pulling Meghan with me, I start to pass Coss before he reaches out and grabs at my arm.
“I was there that day too, dammit!” he growls.
“Yeah, you got sent to the fucking priesthood. I got ten years in a supermax. You committed the sins just as much as I did. Don’t fucking think for a moment I owe you a thing,” I snarl before ripping my arm away from him. “Just because you wear the costume doesn’t mean you’re forgivable.”
Yanking Meghan along beside me, I pull us quickly to the truck. Helping her get in, I shut her door before heading back to the priest who stares at me with something akin to fear in his eyes.
Standing before me, the old man is a shell of his former glory, but he sure thinks he’s bigger than me now.
“You pulled the trigger on how many of your brothers that day?” I ask before going on. “I’ve killed a lot of men in the name of Lucifer, and I don’t for one fucking moment forget that. You should remember all your past fucking sins sometime, Father.”
“I’ve come to terms with what I’ve done, Gabriel,” he says as he pushes a finger into my chest. “And I’ve tried to bring each one of you back into the light. It’s been too damn long for you men to go on this way.”
“Yeah, well, we’ve got a way to go,” I say, smacking his hand away from me. “And if I remember correctly, Dad, you took the cloth as soon as it was offered. The bodies hadn’t even cooled before you went straight into the priesthood.”
“I did this as a way to show penance for my misdeeds—” he tries to tell me before I burst out laughing in his face.
“You took the cloth because it was that or death. You didn’t give two shits about your past misdeeds,” I say.
“You damnable cuss. I’m not too old to put you in your place,” he growls as he straightens to his full height.
“Just like you did to Simon and me after Miriam died? I’ve still got the scars from the coat hangers. Simon’s got them all over his back from laying on top of me, trying to shield me from your righteous anger. Our drunk mother even took a couple of those blows in the early days... Before she drank herself to death and put a bullet in her brains to end her suffering,” I say with a growl.
Scars are all over our backs because of this shithead’s rage. Because he couldn’t fucking deal with being a parent anymore. Because he wanted us to grow up as hard me.
“I…” he stutters.
“Get fucked, Father Coss,” I say to him, using the name he chose to start his life over with.
* * *
Pushing the call button on my phone, I wait for Simon to pick up.
“What is it, Gabriel?”
“Fuck you. Next time you set me up for seeing, Coss, I’ll break your fucking spine.”
“Tsk, Tsk. Keeping talking to me like that and I’ll—” Simon tries to respond.
“Fuck off. Is that Russian restaurant over in Bethlehem still a front for their laundering services?” I ask.
“To an extent. It’s fallen to mostly old men regaling each other with stories from their former glory days,” he says.
“They do any business there?” I ask.
“Yes, it still launders about a million every three months,” he says, and I can hear the tapping of a keyboard.
“Good. Do me a favor and turn off all the traffic and surrounding cameras around the restaurant. I’ll probably need a change of license plates this afternoon,” I say.
His voice is slow and careful as he says, “I can do both. What do you have planned?”
“If they’ve got inside security feeds, get yourself into them and you’ll see,” I say and then disconnect the phone.
* * *
When I’ve had a moment to bring my simmering anger down a notch, I get into the truck and take a look at Meghan. She’s far too beautiful, so much so it makes my tongue feel thick with unsure feelings for her.
“What was that about?” Meghan asks as I pull out of the cemetery.
“My asshole brother set us up for that little fucking visit,” I growl out as we pull onto the main road.
James hightailed it pretty damn fast out of there. No chance in catching up with his ass.
“Why and who was he? I mean I know he was a priest… but why is he coming to talk to you guys?” Meghan asks.
When I don’t immediately answer her, she pokes my arm with her slender fingers. “What was that about? I thought you said we’re in this together?”
“Coss was a power behind the throne when it came to the family business. He stood just to the right side of Lucifer’s father,” I say as I get us onto the highway heading towards Bethlehem.
“You mean Lucifer’s father had a priest working for him?”
“No. He was one of Lucifer’s father’s men, one of the best hitmen around. Lucifer gave him the choice of the church or the graveyard,” I say and try to ease the fucking tension in my shoulders.
It’s been a long fucking time since I saw that fucker, and he still makes me want to commit violent fucking murder. I want to wrap my calloused hands around his old, weathered fucking throat.
That motherfucker stayed out of the grave and prison, while I spent ten long fucking years inside a cement fucking block. I’m not fucking mad at Lucifer, Simon, or any of the other guys. They had their lives stretching before them like a beautiful sunrise. I was in my sunset. I’d killed too many men to clear the way for the family.
To clear the way for Lucifer to take over as the unmitigated leader.
Father Coss, that fucker was left alive for appearance’s sake. At least that’s how he got Lucifer to spare him. He did some of the dirty work with me and in return he got to live. It also kept the status quo with the surrounding families. He was kept around to guide Lucifer…
Like that would have ever truly fucking happened. Lucifer took full control the day he smothered his fucking father, and I put a bullet in anyone who objected. I killed eleven men that day for Lucifer. Father Coss killed two. Might as well have killed me, or so I thought. Wouldn’t have been much to kill off a son of his.
The wheel groans again as I start trying to bend it into something beyond the circular shape it’s supposed to be.
“Gabriel. Stop,” Meghan says quietly, her small fingers tracing the popping veins of my arms. “Stop for me.”
Slowly I pry my fingers off the steering wheel. I don’t know if I could truly bend the fucker in half like I want to, but I’m willing to bet it wouldn’t be good for the car if I did.
“You’re going to have a heart attack before you’re forty…” she says quietly. “Which reminds me, exactly how old are you?”
“Thirty-one,” I grunt as I shift in my seat.
Meghan has a way of bringing me out of my rage, even if I still want to fucking kill Coss. That high-horsed motherfucker thinks of us as fallen soldiers, and we probably are. But him trying to fucking redeem us is a fucking joke. He’s got more than enough blood on his hands.
“Shit, I robbed the retirement home!” Meghan groans loudly. “You’re going to keel over any year now from old age. Do we need to get one of those stair-escalator things? You know, the ones the old people sit in to ride up a flight of stairs…”
“I’d fucking break one of those things just by sitting on it,” I growl out as I latch my hand onto her inner thigh. “Besides, I didn’t see your young ass caring about me being so old last night.”
“Oh…” she murmurs as I start to stroke her thigh. “What… What about family? Brothers or sisters?”
My hand stops roaming so I can grab the steering wheel again with it.
“Simon… That asshole you’ve met already is my brother. Had a sister, but she died very young to an infection that wasn’t caught in time,” I say.
“Gabriel… I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright,” I say.
But it’s not really. I think back to then and I don’t remember as much as I used to. It fucking hurts somewhere in my stomach that I can’t remember the last time I allowed myself to think of Miriam.
Simon was about ten when she died, old enough I guess to know that his little sister was gone forever, but not old enough to know why. I think that’s where he got his obsession with being clean from. All he was told was that it was an infection that killed her. Some bug. He started washing his hands at the funeral and couldn’t stop. My parents weren’t any help, the death of Miriam broke something deep in them.
I had to take control of Simon after t
hat. A six-year-old who just lost his twin sister taking care of a ten-year-old who was getting fucked in the head…
“You don’t look like it’s alright,” Meghan says softly.
“I don’t much think of her. No use in remembering someone like that. She was the good one, the white to my black,” I say, and I can feel the anger rising up in my throat.
It’s like a fucking sickness trying to crawl its way up and be unleashed.
“You sound like you were really close to her?” she asks.
“She was my fraternal twin. Thank whatever god for that. I can’t imagine she would have been very happy looking like me as a chick,” I say with a chuckle. “She was the bigger one in the womb, from what my mom said. I was the runt.”
“Fuck me, I can’t imagine trying to push out two babies,” she says.
“Only child then?” I ask.
“Yeah, just me. My parents tried for more, but I’m the only one.”
“So, if you don’t mind me asking, where’s your mom?” I ask, and I can see instantly it’s not going to be a good answer.
“She… died… in a… a car bomb,” she says, and looks away from me like it’s some dirty little secret.
“When was that?” I ask.
This time it’s me taking her hand. Shit like that sucks to relive.
“Five years ago. My dad says it was the Italians from Garden City trying to take over more space,” she whispers.
Why the fuck would they even try that, is my first thought.
Killing off a wife isn’t a good idea, not when it comes to wars. You don’t kill the spouses or kids, not if you don’t have to.
“Fuck, that sucks, Meghan. I’m sorry.”
“It was pretty hard after that. I don’t have any siblings… So my dad became a bit of a nightmare. Very overprotective. I barely talked him into letting me go out to California for school.”
“I went out there once, had to do a job there. I stayed for a couple of weeks, waiting around. Lots of sun and beaches out there,” I say.