The Price of Brimstone

by Allie Gail

  I wait nervously for a reaction.

  But he says nothing, and so I reluctantly launch into my feeble explanation.

  “I'd been going down to the basement at night,” I quietly confess. “Using my own key. Russ didn't know I had it. We'd talk. You know? Me and Loc. He didn't seem so terrible. I thought...I thought if I was patient enough, I could convince him to tell me where Skylar and Owen were. I knew Russ wasn't going to get anywhere with his strong-arm tactics. So we...we ended up making a bargain. He'd make sure they were released, unharmed. And in return, what he asked for...what he asked for was...” I can't make myself finish.

  But then there's really no need to, is there?

  Max still hasn't said a word. His jaw is visibly clenching though, and I feel my heart sink. The last thing I want is for him to hate me. I know I shouldn't have gotten involved. No one has to tell me that. But our friends are back safe and sound, and everything worked out in the end, so doesn't that count for something?

  “I really wish you wouldn't mention this to Russ,” I timidly add.

  He just sits there, silently looking at me, eyes flashing like gunmetal. I want to crawl in a hole and die. This is the look that I was dreading. I knew it was coming, but that doesn't make it any easier to take.

  When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet and carefully restrained. “I'll kill him.”

  “Oh, come on...don't do that.” I frown, though I am secretly relieved that his anger isn't directed towards me. “You sound like Russ when you do that.”

  “What should I say then? Should I congratulate the rapist on his ill-conceived conquest? Offer him a high five? He is dead. Fucking dead.”

  “Max...”

  “I. Will. Kill. Him.”

  “Stop it, Max.” Taking a deep breath, I slip a hand out from under my blanket and rest it gently on his clenched fist. “Now listen. First of all, no one raped me. I know it's easy to blame Loc for taking advantage of the situation. But the truth is...the truth is, I wanted to. I did. I wanted to. I wasn't about to admit it at the time, but I can't sit here and pretend I was one hundred percent a victim in all this. I went with him willingly. I did. And I stayed, willingly. So lay your blame where it belongs.”

  “Jesus Christ, is that what you think? That I'd blame you?” He relaxes his fingers enough to lace them through mine, and I feel my tension slowly unwinding. He doesn't hate me. “Owen and Skylar may very well be alive because of you. How could you ever think I'd blame you for doing what you could to save them?”

  I look down so he can't see the tears forming in my eyes.

  “My issue is, the bastard nearly got you killed! And for what? All because he wanted to get into your pants? I mean, what the hell! That piece of shit – he better hope to God I never see him again. I'll burn my fucking name into his skull.”

  I'll string your finger bones together and wear them around my neck. Grind down your skull and drink cheap whiskey from it.

  I shift uncomfortably, trying to shake the memory.

  “You're right though,” Max continues. “You are, you're right. It's not like me and Russ were doing a bang-up job with him. He was never going to give us anything. That much is obvious. We tried, baby girl, we tried...so stupid, thinking we ever had the upper hand. So caught up in getting results, we thought we could force it out of him. And you see where that got us. Fucking nowhere. He played us both for fools. So you see, it's not your fault. None of it. You were only trying to succeed where we failed.”

  Startled, I lift my head to gape at him. My God, is he laying the blame on his own shoulders now?

  He brushes a thumb across my cheek, wiping away a tear as he whispers, “I'm so sorry. So sorry you got dragged into this.”

  I shake my head, choking out a dry laugh. “Oh, no. Don't you dare! Don't you dare do that. None of this was your fault. Don't you even think about feeling guilty for something that was out of your control from the start.”

  “It was that, wasn't it? Out of control. That's about the only way to describe it.” He smiles wistfully, but I know it's only to comfort me. “I don't think I'll ever take anything for granted again. After seeing some of the shit we saw...well, let's just put it this way. I won't be laughing at the guy who swears he's met Bigfoot.”

  “There are more things in heaven and earth, dear Max, than are dreamt of in your philosophy,” I murmur, misquoting Shakespeare.

  He rebuffs with a fitting quote of his own. “Hell is empty and all the devils are here.”

  “Let's hope not.” The words remind me of Sonia's omen. The fear in her eyes. She was right to be afraid. I don't ever want to know a world where demons are running free. “God, I was so naïve! I had no idea what I was getting into. None. It's just that Loc seemed so normal, you know? Well, maybe not normal exactly, but-”

  “There was nothing normal about that evil sadist.” Max scowls distastefully.

  It's hard to dispute that.

  “It's true that what he did was...let's just say unconscionable,” I agree. “But we can't forget, he saved my soul. Not to mention my life.”

  “Yeah...I'm still wondering what his angle was there.”

  “Believe it or not, I don't think there was one. I honestly don't. Of course, I could be wrong – it's not like I've been batting a thousand lately.”

  “I gotta say, you put a lot more faith in the bastard than he deserves.”

  “He saved your soul, too,” I remind him.

  “It never would've needed saving in the first place, if not for him.”

  “True, but he did the right thing in the end. Maybe that's what counts.”

  “What counts is that you're safe.” He reaches out to touch me, then hastily withdraws his hand as if thinking better of it. “Dammit, Jude – you have no idea what it was like for me, finding out from Russ that Price had taken you away. I came close to losing it. It was driving me crazy, imagining the sick, twisted things he might be doing to you. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. Whenever I did fall asleep, I'd wake to the sound of you screaming. The guilt was tearing me apart. I blamed myself for letting him get to you. For underestimating him. For not insisting that you leave. And knowing that was my fault too, because deep down I didn't want you to go. I could've tried harder to talk you into going back to Tulsa. But I didn't, because I was selfish.”

  Heaving a tired sigh, he tilts his head back and stares up at the ceiling. “You're not the only one who walked through Hell. You asked why I'd trade my soul so easily? Because it didn't matter. It didn't matter to me if I ended up in Hell, because the reality is, I was already there.”

  I gaze at him in amazement, stunned by the depth of his emotion. I had no idea he was harboring so much guilt. I doubt even Russ was that concerned about me. Worried, yes, but not enough that he would beat himself up about it. Then again, my brother's never had much in the way of a conscience. I love him, but that's just the way he is.

  “No one hurt me,” I mumble lamely. I don't really know what to say here. It never occurred to me that Max would react so strongly. Why would it?

  “Yeah, well, that may be the only thing that prevents me from tracking him down, cutting off his head and burying it six thousand miles from his body.”

  “Why do you care so much what happens to me?” My tongue reacts instinctively, blurting the question before I have time to debate the wisdom of it.

  “You have to ask?”

  I give him a blank look. Men always say that women are hard to read. Did it ever occur to them that we have no idea what they're thinking, either? I could jump to conclusions here, but I'm afraid I'd be setting myself up for a huge letdown.

  “I care about you, kiddo. Don't you know that? You were always important to me. Kinda like the little sister I never had. I always felt...I guess you could say, a little protective of you. I never wanted to see you get hurt. You were a nice kid.”

  Oh-h.

  See, this is why I'm reluctant to assume things. I never get it right. Hopefully my disap
pointment isn't too obvious. Little sister? Nice kid? It's sweet what he's saying, very touching, but it's not exactly what I was hoping to hear.

  Still, I'll take it. It's nice to know that he cares so much.

  And then he lowers his eyes to meet mine. “Funny, but I don't see you quite that way anymore.”

  I don't want to get my hopes up here, I really don't, but it's kinda hard not to.

  “You don't?” I whisper.

  “No. I don't.”

  “Then...how do you see me?”

  He smiles, considering. “As a beautiful young woman with a generous heart. The kind of girl every guy dreams of having. And someone I'd really like to get to know better.”

  I can feel my cheeks growing warm. After what I just told him, he's still interested in me? I'm so beyond thrilled, I can't trust myself to speak without squealing like a giddy schoolgirl. So like a total dunce, I say nothing.

  “I know it's a little belated and all, but I still owe you a birthday dinner. And unless something changes, I'm scheduled to be off tomorrow night. We could drive to Oakley. Maybe take in a movie.” He cocks his head, apparently trying to figure out why I'm just sitting there gawking at him like a drooling idiot. “Yes? No? What do you say?”

  I cautiously return his smile, hoping I won't start giggling or do something equally dumb. “I...uh, would like that.”

  “Six o'clock then?”

  “Sure. Sounds good.” Someone pinch me, is this finally happening? Max Fallon wants to date me? Russell Sterling's dorky little sister? I can't believe it!

  Like a confirmation from the heavens, the power suddenly surges back on, and in the same instant I hear Russ downstairs whooping, “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

  Max and I look at each other and laugh. A moment later heavy footsteps run up the stairs, clomping loudly, and my brother pokes his head in to announce, “Hey, Sky's gonna make some fish sticks while the power's still on. Either of you guys hungry?”

  “No thanks, I gotta get going soon.” Max stands as if to make his point. I just shake my head.

  “Whatever then – more for me! Don't say I didn't ask!” Making a face at us, Russ takes off with far more enthusiasm than minced fish bits warrant.

  Once the rowdy footsteps have faded, I mutter under my breath, “Crap. I better go supervise.”

  “With fish sticks? I think even Skylar can handle that.” Linking his hands over his head, Max stretches languidly before picking up his jacket.

  “Yesterday she offered to make grilled cheese sandwiches,” I lament.

  “You don't like grilled cheese?”

  “Sure I do. But she forgot to take the plastic wrap off the cheese slices!”

  “Oh,” he snorts. “Wow.”

  “In her defense, she was distracted at the time. Taking selfies in her brand new monogrammed apron.”

  “How has she survived on her own all this time if she can't cook?”

  “I wondered that too! When I asked, she said she never even turned on the stove in her apartment. All she ate was Lean Cuisines and tuna. I get the feeling she's trying to impress Russ with her domestic skills.” Which are limited to shopping and...no, that's pretty much it. Shopping.

  “I don't think anyone's ever been duly impressed by fish sticks,” he chuckles.

  I throw up my hands. “Hey, I just live here.”

  “Well, good luck with that.” Unexpectedly, he wraps his arms around my waist and envelops me in a tight bear hug. “I'm so damn glad you're back,” he whispers.

  I slide my arms around his neck and return his hug. “Me, too.”

  And it hits me, what a nice feeling it is to be embraced by someone who expects nothing in return.

  I walk downstairs with him, and we stop to linger in front of the fireplace where it's warm. I don't want Max to go, but I know he needs his rest. He has a very demanding job. Saving lives, like the white knight hero that he is.

  We listen in amusement to the muffled conversation floating in from the kitchen.

  “Do you think this milk is okay?”

  “I don't know. Smell it.”

  “You smell it.”

  “What do you need milk for anyway?”

  “Macaroni and cheese.”

  “You're making macaroni and cheese?”

  “Duh – that's what I just said!” There is a brief pause, then, “Ew. I don't think this milk is any good.”

  “Is it out of date?”

  “By...let's see, about a week. You know what, I'm sure it's fine. You prob'ly won't be able to taste it once it gets mixed in.”

  “Don't use the milk, Sky.”

  “Fi-ine! Is there something we can use instead? Oh, I know. How about some mayonnaise? I heard you can do that with mashed potatoes. Use mayonnaise instead of milk, if you're out.”

  “Hey, if you're gonna put in mayo, how about some bacon?”

  “Oh my God, that's a great idea! It'll be like pasta salad. Let's do that. Look, here's some olives! We can put those in, too.”

  “Now you're talkin'!”

  “What else goes in pasta salad? Do you know?”

  “Um...not really sure. Broccoli, I think?”

  “I don't see any broccoli. There's some okra, though. Can we use that?”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  Max leans his head close to mine and murmurs, “You guys got any peanut butter?”

  “I think so.”

  “I would highly recommend you stick with that.”

  “Good call.”

  The power flickers, and from the kitchen comes Skylar's voice: “Did you see that? Is the power going off again?”

  “I don't know. We should probably hurry this along just in case. Did you preheat the oven for the fish?”

  “The box says 400 degrees. If I turn it all the way up to 550, that oughta shave some off the cooking time, right?”

  “Uh...not sure it works that way, Sky.”

  “Well, you said to hurry!” Thwang thwang thwang. “What's wrong with the oven? Why won't it open? Russ, I think your oven is broken.”

  Thwang thwang thwang. “What the – this doesn't – ah, fuck! Dammit, Sky, you set it to self-clean! Why would you do that?”

  “So it would be clean, obviously! I'm not gonna use a dirty oven, that's just gross!”

  Max slaps his hand against his forehead while I cover my mouth to stifle a laugh. Jeezaloo, it's like our very own live performance of Laurel and Hardy. I'm beginning to see why my brother eats so much takeout.

  “Maybe I should go shut off the breaker and end this fiasco now,” I suggest through a giggle.

  “Unless you have a fire extinguisher, that might not be a bad idea.”

  “How long do you think it would take 'em to figure it out?”

  “Those two? Wouldn't bet on anytime soon.”

  “You know what? I can't believe I'm saying this, but it might actually be fun having her around.” I never would've expected to find myself defending Skylar, but the girl kind of grows on you. She's sweet. In a tactless, patronizing, passive-aggressive sort of way.

  Yeah, I know. Don't ask me to explain it.

  “If you plan on keeping her around, can I at least give you the number of a good insurance representative?” He's joking. I think.

  “Please. If this house could be destroyed that easily, Russ would've done it a long time ago.”

  “You make a valid point. Well, maybe between the two of us, we can manage to keep them out of trouble.” He zips his jacket, then reaches up to cup my chin between his fingers, his silver eyes searching mine affectionately. “When I'm not busy trying to keep you out of trouble, that is.”

  “You may have your hands full with that one,” I warn him, my voice breathy.

  “I don't mind.”

  Then he proves it by kissing me.

  And every beautiful little thing – the heat from the fire, the laughter from the kitchen, the elation of his lips against mine – everything in my tiny little corner of the world, all comes t
ogether like colors in a rainbow. I feel as if I've just been blessed with everything I ever wanted.

  Happiness radiates through me, warming my heart and the soul that is still my own. The troubled melancholy of the past few days is melting away, like the pentacle on the wall, to be replaced by optimism and the promise of sunnier days ahead.

  ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Oakley, Kansas

  March, four months later

  “I have a weird feeling about this.”

  Side-eyeing me from the driver's seat, Max puts the truck in park and shuts off the engine.

  I scan the playground anxiously, looking for someone or something that seems out of place. I assumed she would stand out – one of these things is not like the other – but at the moment, all I see are a lot of families taking advantage of the sunshine. It is Saturday, after all. And being an unseasonably warm day for mid-March, it seems half the parents in town are here with their kids. Probably encouraging them to burn off the excess energy inherent to children.

  “What do you think?” I look over at Max.

  “I don't see anyone.” What he means is, he doesn't see anyone that might fit the bill. What we're looking for is a woman. That much we know. A woman named Avery, the granddaughter of Sonia Rabinovich, the spiritual adviser from Silverton.

  At least, that's what she claimed on the phone.

  We're still not a hundred percent convinced it's not some kind of trick. That it isn't a demon in masquerade. Because first of all, the caller ignored me when I demanded to know how she got my cell phone number. And second, why did she specify that I was to meet her here alone?

  I'd appreciate the opportunity to speak with you, Miss Sterling. I realize that after consulting with my late grandmother, you must have a lot of questions. Well, I happen to have the answers.

  All of them.

  You see, Sonia wasn't the only psychic in the family.

  You'll find me at the Annie Oakley Park this coming Saturday. Two o'clock. Please come alone. I don't like crowds.

  There was no discernible malice in her voice. She was courteous but succinct, abruptly ending the call without giving me a chance to ask any questions. Without even waiting to see if I would agree to the designated time and location.