Raphael

by Tillie Cole

  The gun shook in Raphael’s hand. He unlatched the safety and re-aimed. “You haven’t asked where Maria is.” On cue, muffled noises came from inside the coffin Father Murray stood beside. Raphael’s eyes slammed to it. He heard her nails scraping against the metal, clawing to be freed.

  Father Murray pointed to a combination lock on the coffin. “Drop the gun, Raphael. You won’t get inside the coffin unless you keep me alive. Drop the gun and I’ll let her breathe.” He shrugged. “There’s not much air getting in to the sinful novice nun.”

  Raphael gripped the gun harder. He wanted to shoot him, to end him and free his own body from the traitorous paralysis that seeing the priest caused . . . until Maria started screaming again, and he dropped it to the floor without even thinking. Father Murray’s eyes flared at the act of submission. Raphael gritted his teeth together so hard his jaw ached. He didn’t submit. He didn’t motherfucking submit!

  “Get on your knees.” Father Murray’s voice grated on his nerves, the order that echoed in his mind every day the worst torture of all.

  Raphael stayed on his feet. He needed to see Father Murray bleed. Needed to see his eyes frozen in death. And he couldn’t submit. He wouldn’t get on his knees for this fucker. Not anymore. Not again. He wouldn’t let himself—

  “She’s running out of air,” Father Murray said, cutting through his thoughts. The priest covered the tiny holes that were drilled through the metal lid, depriving her of any air inside.

  Maria’s screams faded, and Raphael knew he wasn’t bluffing. Every part of him screamed not to obey. Then he heard pained sobs coming from the coffin. The ache in his chest returned as he thought about Maria trapped in the dark, trapped back in her very own hell. He was trapped in his. They were in hell together.

  At that realization, Raphael dropped to his knees.

  Father Murray moaned at the sight of the submission, but making sure Raphael was watching him, he entered the combination on the coffin’s lock and pushed the heavy, suffocating lid aside. Father Murray reached inside, and it took Raphael all the strength he had not to jump to his feet and charge, a spark of life slicing through his numb limbs at the thought of this cunt touching Maria. Raphael felt his muscles fill with blood. He readied to attack, readied to pull his knife from his waistband and run at the priest. But Raphael aborted the plan when Father Murray pulled Maria from the coffin, his hands under her limp arms. Her body was slumped over and unmoving. Maria’s eyes rolled in her head, but she fought through her fading consciousness to find Raphael. The minute she did, a heavy sob slipped from her mouth.

  Raphael felt a fissure crack through his chest, so profound he gasped for breath. Seeing Maria limp and racked with pain destroyed him. He shook with fury, with unconcealed rage. Then he saw it, and everything moved into slow motion. Maria’s blanket of hair slipped from her front, and her chest was exposed. There, on her naked and bruised body, was an upturned cross, just like his, just like his brothers’. Her perfect skin was red and blistered, white where infection was starting to take its hold. She was deathly pale, and her lips were blue from lack of air.

  Raphael hadn’t known he could have harbored more hate than he already did for the priest who had been his tormentor all his life. He was wrong. He was dead wrong. Father Murray had hurt Maria. He had inflicted on her pain so great she could barely keep her eyes open.

  The priest had touched what what his.

  Maria was fucking his.

  Then the priest ran his hand down Maria’s naked front until he reached her pussy. With eyes locked on Raphael, he slipped his finger inside Maria. She didn’t even make a sound.

  Fear from the past fell away like rain off a tin roof. Raphael was on his feet in seconds, lit with the wrath of hell itself. He charged across the room. But Father Murray dragged Maria around the coffin, using it as a shield, and placed his hands on her neck. Raphael’s feet ground to an abrupt halt. “I’ll snap her neck. Come any closer, and I’ll snap it in two. I’ll destroy your dream kill.”

  Raphael tried to think what to do. But Father Murray said, “I told you to get on your knees.” Raphael did, every part of him screaming at him to fight back. His eyes were fixed on Father Murray as he walked toward Raphael, still holding Maria in his grip. Her feet dragged along the floor, body broken. When he stopped before Raphael, Raphael promised the priest death with his glare alone.

  Father Murray smirked. “Pull down my zipper.” Raphael’s heart felt like it had stopped. Father Murray’s face morphed with ire. “I said pull down my zipper, demon!” His yell echoed off the walls, bringing the past to the present. His hands tightened around Maria’s neck as a warning for Raphael to comply.

  Maria’s unfocused blue eyes managed to find Raphael’s. “No—” she whispered, her face contorting in sadness.

  Father Murray cut off her words as he began to squeeze her neck. Raphael didn’t even pause as Maria’s face reddened at the priest’s pressure. He reached out and pulled down Father Murray’s zipper. Maria didn’t move her gaze from his. Raphael didn’t move his from hers. He wouldn’t let her die. He wouldn’t let this cunt take her from him.

  Her gaze made him feel different from the last time he was in this room, in his position. She made him feel less alone.

  When Father Murray’s zipper was down, Raphael saw his cock was hard. “Pull it out,” he said, his voice growing hoarse. Raphael’s hands shook, but he did as Father Murray said. Maria whimpered and tried to break away. But Raphael stared at the brand on her chest. She needed help. He needed to get her out of here.

  Movement from behind Father Murray caught Raphael’s attention. He never averted his eyes. But when he saw long dark hair and dark eyes close in on the priest, Raphael attacked. Reaching to his waistband, Raphael pulled out his knife, and in one swift swipe he castrated Father Murray, his severed dick falling to the floor onto which Raphael’s blood, sweat, and cum had once dripped. Father Murray screamed and dropped Maria, but Sela was there to catch her.

  Raphael’s vision shivered with darkness. Grabbing Father Murray by his hair, he dragged him across the room and slammed him against the wall. Teeth bared, he wrapped his hands around Father Murray’s neck. Raphael snarled in the priest’s face as he squeezed. Father Murray clawed at Raphael’s arms. But Raphael wasn’t aware of anything except Father Murray’s slowing pulse and his mouth gaping, trying to gasp for breath. Breath that Raphael was stealing, coveting as his own. He squeezed harder and harder, watching Father Murray’s face turn from red to blue. His brown eyes bulged and his hands grew weak, his body growing heavy.

  Raphael didn’t speak as he drained the priest of life. He didn’t think of all that had been done to him as a child. He just relished the sensation of imminent death coming to an abusive cunt who deserved it. Raphael’s fingers were iron as he squeezed for the final time, feeling Father Murray’s trachea crush and his bones snap under Raphael’s incredible force.

  Father Murray’s eyes were locked on Raphael, his head distorted to the side. Raphael threw back his head and screamed. He roared out every fucked-up thing that the priest had done to him. What he had done to Maria—

  Maria.

  Raphael dropped Father Murray’s body to the ground. Blood spurting from his groin pooled beneath him. Raphael moved to Sela and took Maria from his hands. Raphael saw his other brothers watching, all except Gabriel. Uriel began to pour gasoline on the floor.

  “We need to leave,” Sela said. Raphael held Maria close to his chest. He grabbed a towel from a hook outside the torture room and wrapped it around her, then he raced for the door, following his brothers to the exit. But just as they reached the final hallway, a gunshot sounded.

  Diel hit the floor.

  Fear at seeing his brother torn down caused dread to cut through Raphael’s body like a bolt of lightning. He spun around to see Father Quinn. The exit lay just beyond where he stood. Father Quinn’s eyes were filled with thunder.

  “Demons,” he snarled in their direction. Die
l lifted his head, blood seeping from his shoulder. But the brother laughed a hysterical laugh. He stuck his finger into the hole, pulled out the bullet, and flicked it at the priest’s feet. Diel sucked the blood from his finger, leaving a stain around his mouth.

  “I didn’t think it would be possible for you to become more evil, but here you are, before my very eyes, demons in the flesh.” Father Quinn raised his gun again. Raphael and his brothers did the same, but the priest froze, his face still with shock. As the priest dropped to the ground, Raphael saw Gabriel standing behind him, a knife in his hand. A knife coated in blood. Father Quinn’s gun clattered to the floor. Bara kicked it out of his reach. The old man’s eyes filled with horror.

  Ignoring the priest scurrying along the floor, Raphael moved for the exit, Maria tightly in his arms. Uriel poured the final can of gasoline in the hallway and all over Father Quinn. Raphael flinched at the heavy smell. His brothers stopped on the threshold of Purgatory, and he surveyed their childhood hell for the last time. This time there was nothing left in him to feel. Father Murray was dead, and the place was about to be an inferno.

  Bara lifted his flame thrower. “Shall I?”

  Raphael nodded. But just as Bara went to light the gasoline and set the place ablaze, Gabriel held out his hand. “Wait.” Gabriel walked to Father Quinn. The old man looked into Gabriel’s eyes, pure hatred in his stare.

  “You,” Father Quinn spat. “The worst of them all.”

  “You tried to ruin our lives. You tried to tear us down and make us into nothing.” Gabriel took a long inhale. “But you only made us stronger.”

  “You are killers. Murderers. One day soon, you will be punished by God.”

  “That may be true,” Gabriel said. “But at least we won’t have to explain why we raped innocent little kids in His name.” Gabriel got to his feet, hovering over the high priest bleeding, on his knees. “You’re a sinner of the worst kind. The most un-Christian Christian I’ve ever met.”

  Gabriel walked to the exit, his brothers standing by and waiting for him to lead them home. They were a true brotherhood, unlike the cunts in this damned place.

  “You have no idea of the wrath that is coming your way,” Father Quinn hissed.

  Gabriel stared at the priest, pulled a box of matches from his pocket, and lit one. Meeting the high priest’s widening gaze, Gabriel smiled, but it was anything but holy. “Go to hell, Father.” Gabriel flicked the match to the floor, igniting the gasoline into a raging line of fire. The Fallen walked from Purgatory, locking the door for the final time.

  Smoke and the stench of burning flesh followed them as they fled across the fields to the waiting vans. As Raphael crawled into the back of the van, he cradled Maria into his body. Her blue eyes looked into his, and even through her insufferable pain, she smiled.

  His chest had never felt so warm.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Raphael sat beside Maria as she slept on his bed. His muscles still ached from the doctor’s visit. Maria was hooked up to an IV of antibiotics. Gabriel had had to restrain him as the doctor assessed her naked body. Uriel and Gabriel had pinned him against the wall when he refused to leave and let the doctor work. But as the doctor touched the puss-ridden upturned cross on Maria’s chest and she screamed, Raphael had lunged. His vision had misted with red, and the anger inside him had torn him up from the inside out.

  But soon Maria was sedated. “For her own good,” the doctor had said. “So she can heal.” Raphael had moved beside her and taken her hand in his. The string that he forever wore around his finger was firmly in place. As his fingers entwined with Maria’s, the warmth in his chest was back again. He wanted her to open her eyes. He wanted her to smile. Raphael believed the constant ache in his chest would go if she did.

  Raphael listened to Maria breathe. He hadn’t even showered since they’d arrived back at the manor. “Heal, little rose,” he whispered into her ear as he lay down on the pillow beside her. “That’s an order. I won’t repeat myself. Do you understand?”

  But there was no Yes, my lord to this demand. There was no obedience. Maria was too deep in sleep to open her eyes.

  Raphael placed his hand on Maria’s hair. It was full of sweat and knots. He needed to clean it. He needed to brush it and dry it; it needed to smell of vanilla and rose. Then she would be perfect again.

  Raphael’s eyes dropped to the brand Father Murray had seared onto her flesh. Raphael wanted to run his finger down it. He wanted to take the pain away. But as he looked at the brand, he couldn’t help but feel his chest grow tight. Not in anger, but . . . With the brand, Maria was now like him. She wore the sign of the devil on her chest . . . just like him. Just like his brothers.

  Like she was one of the Fallen.

  But as quickly as the tight feeling in his chest came, it was replaced by seething fury at remembering Father Murray’s fingers in her pussy. At his hands around her throat. Raphael ran his finger over her neck. Finger marks that didn’t belong to him were imprinted on her flesh. Blue bruises and red scratches marred her perfect skin. Raphael looked down at his hands. They were shaking. But as he stared at those hands, he remembered them wrapped around Father Murray’s throat.

  Raphael licked his lips as his cock grew hard in his jeans. Father Murray’s eyes had met his, never moving away as Raphael had drained him of life. Raphael sighed as he recalled the priest’s slowing pulse, his blue face . . . and his severed dick, his blood gushing onto the floor. Raphael’s jeans were still stained with the blood. He wouldn’t wash them. He would frame them and hang them on his wall in his room so he would be forever reminded of the cunt he had killed.

  Raphael heard the door to his room open. Michael walked in, still covered in blood. His hands were stained; Raphael knew his brother wouldn’t be washing them anytime soon. Silently, Michael walked into the room and sat on the chair next to the bed. His best friend smiled, his fangs still coated in his victims’ blood. He would have gorged on his new collection as soon as they returned home. Michael’s eyes were dilated from the adrenaline of the kills they had all made. Raphael knew his would be the same.

  Raphael settled into the pillow again. Michael took out a vial of blood from his pocket and, dipping his finger into the open top, began to suck on the blood. “She going to live?” Michael asked.

  Raphael met his brother’s watching eyes. “The doctor said so. But she’ll take weeks to heal.”

  Michael nodded, then went back to his blood. The door opened again. Sela and Diel walked through. Wordlessly, they moved to the couch against the wall and sat down. Sela rested his head against the backrest. “I’m beat.”

  Diel’s hands twitched on his knees. His eyes closed, and Raphael saw him taking deep breaths. It took his brother hours to calm down after a spree. Too much energy in his veins. It was a high they all struggled to come back from—Diel most of all.

  Twenty minutes later, Bara and Uriel walked in the room. Bara cocked an eyebrow at everyone present. “Seems like we’re late to the party.” Bara and Uriel pulled chairs from the dining area to beside the bed, on the opposite side to Michael. Bara watched Raphael hold Maria with a smirk on his face. Raphael curled further into Maria’s warm body.

  “You calm now?” Uriel asked.

  Raphael nodded his head. Not one of his brothers had showered. All covered in the blood and guts of the priests. Bara opened his mouth to say something, when the door opened one final time. Gabriel paused when he saw his brothers. His blond hair was wet, and he was back in his black clothes and white dog collar.

  Gabriel moved a chair beside Michael. His blue eyes tracked over Maria, checking she was okay. “You need anything, Raphe?”

  “No,” he replied.

  Gabriel sighed as he slouched into his chair. He winced as he sat. Then his hand ran down his face.

  “So, Purgatory’s done,” Sela said from the couch.

  Raphael and his brothers looked one another in the eyes. He felt something in his stomach relax. A pain he
never knew he carried until that moment.

  “Burned to the ground,” Michael said, then, frowning, looked to Gabriel. Gabriel’s face was pale and his eyes rimmed with red. Raphael didn’t understand why. “All that wasted blood.”

  Bara sighed, then leaned forward on his chair. His eyes narrowed on his brothers. “So this is codependency.”

  Raphael wondered what that was. Uriel, Sela, Diel, and Michael looked just as confused as he felt.

  “What’s that?” Michael asked.

  Bara shrugged. “No fucking idea. Heard Miller talking about it before. Said we all suffered from codependency.” He grinned. “Sounded fancy. Just wanted a chance to say the words aloud.”

  “It doesn’t matter what it means,” Gabriel said, pulling their attention. “He never lived what we lived through.” Gabriel smiled. It was the first authentic smile Raphael had seen him give in years. “We’re brothers. We have each other’s backs.” Gabriel pointed at Maria. “And the back of anyone we take into our fold.”

  Raphael looked at Maria sleeping beside him. She was so beautiful. He wanted her to wake up and speak to him. He liked her voice. He didn’t like that he wasn’t hearing it in his rooms. He wanted to feel her hand on his cheek. He’d once punished her for touching his cheek without permission. Now he would order it if she would just wake up.

  Sela got up from his seat and lit the fire. The room filled with warmth, the sound of crackling wood and the smoky scent of burning logs. Raphael stared at Maria. When he looked up at his brothers, they were asleep. Raphael’s eyes grew heavy, and laying his head on Maria’s long hair, he fell asleep too.

  *****