by Logan Fox
We played it once or twice after we escaped, but it became painfully obvious that we’d be adults by the time we’d had our revenge.
What did it matter, then, what dreams we had as kids?
But those things stuck with me.
Apollo loves the ocean even though he’s never set foot on the coast. Before he was taken, he’d watch surfing championships on television and imagine it was him slicing through those waves on some beach in Malibu. Honestly, I think he just secretly wanted to take photos of chicks in bikinis. But who the fuck am I to judge, right?
One day I went to town on a supply run, hungover as fuck after a night of blunts and whiskey, and I decide to get a plate of something greasy at the coffee shop. Only to discover they have Wi-Fi.
In this place?
Shocker.
I had one of Apollo’s old laptops with me. He wanted me to send it in, because he swore the on-board graphics card was malfunctioning. I stopped listening after the fifth time he mentioned the driver and took it with me anyway.
They keep forgetting they don’t have to repair shit. Ever. If it breaks, I’ll buy them a new one. Money means fuck all to me.
So, hungover as fuck, I decide to get Apollo’s laptop out of the car and go online while I’m waiting for my grub.
I’m guessing the laptop didn’t shut down properly because as soon as it boots up, the browser pops open and loads the last website Apollo had been on.
A Youtube video of some surf competition.
Minutes later, I was hunting down coast-side properties in California where I’m guessing—probably incorrectly—that a guy can catch the best waves.
Then I found it.
Six bedrooms, five en-suite. An infinity pool overlooking the ocean. A garage big enough for as big a collection of classic cars as Reuben wants. A game room for Cass, replete with a fucking billiards table. Billiards, not pool, because he’s snooty like that.
There’s even a fucking dance studio with wrap around mirrors on the walls, perfect for Cass to admire himself in.
I haven’t told them about the property.
I also haven’t told them I put in an offer on the place on Saturday. I know I’ll be getting that call sometime this week—my offer was ten grand above asking.
It’s eating me alive, but I have to make sure it’s happening before I break out the champagne.
And yeah, I bought champagne. Four bottles of the most expensive brand the liquor store stocked.
“Love the new look,” I tell him, pointing at my neck. “Just give me a heads up if you’re about to start reciting bad poetry, though.”
He’s wearing a black turtle-neck shirt and dark jeans. Sullen colors which match the smudges under his eyes.
“I could have died,” he says, voice as dead as his eyes.
“I think you were dead for a few seconds.” I wish there were a power outlet down here so I could brew some coffee. The only other alternative is alcohol or weed.
I choose the whiskey, turning my back to pour out a shot. Fuck the fact that’s it quarter past six in the morning.
“But luckily, you’ve always been a stubborn sonofabitch.” I glance at him over my shoulder when I don’t hear the rueful chuckle I was expecting.
“It worked,” I say.
Cass shifts a little, and then runs his palms down his legs. “Yeah?”
“She took the drive to Rube last night.”
“So why aren’t they here? Why aren’t they going through his shit?”
“You know Apollo has to be in the kitchen before breakfa—”
“You think I give a fuck?” Cass yells.
I set down the bottle of whiskey and turn to face him. He’s on his feet, hands bunched into fists at his side. But he’s glaring at the floor, not me, as if he can’t bear to make eye contact.
“Cass…”
“I risked my fucking life for that shit,” he says, finally looking up. Eyes the color of dirty ice stab through me. “I don’t care if you have to go drag that little cunt out of the kitchen by his fucking ball sack, you go and—”
“Christ, Cass, I’m here,” Apollo says.
We both turn to him as he sidles in through the opening to our lair. He’s wearing a baggy plaid sweater with an unraveling collar, sweatpants that have seen better decades, and a pair of tiger-striped gumboots. Judging from his rat tail hair and the damp patches on his top, it’s started raining again.
He slides a backpack from his shoulder and collapses on the couch, then glances across at me and groans when he sees the bottle in my hand. “Don’t we have coffee down here yet?”
“No power, remember? It’s this or warm beer,” I say.
“Fuck it,” he grumbles, hiking up his sweater as he shoves a hand under the fabric to scratch at his ribs. “I’ll get coffee later. Let’s get this over with.”
I take my usual seat and both me and Cass watch Apollo as he slips the drive into his new laptop.
“So what shit did you make up for Gabriel?” Apollo asks as he starts tapping the laptop’s touchpad. “He ran out of there like someone had set his grandma on fire.”
My eyes go to Cass, but he keeps his head down, using his thumbnail to push back his cuticles. “Does it matter? It worked.”
“Yeah it did,” Apollo says through a grin without looking up. “Looked real fucking spooked. That’s—”
He cuts off and starts shaking his head.
“What is it?” I sit forward. “Apollo?”
“Shit,” he mutters, his eyes flickering as he scans the screen. “There’s nothing here.”
“What do you mean there’s nothing?” Cass growls. He grabs the laptop from Apollo, stabbing the down button as a glare slowly deepens on his face. “There’s tons of shit on here.”
“Yeah, but nothing useful.” Apollo takes back the laptop, scowls at Cass, and then gets up and goes to sit in the armchair opposite us. “Just a bunch of crap.”
“You couldn’t have gone through everything so fast,” I say, wincing around my first sip of whiskey.
Apollo lets out a world-weary sigh. “I’m using keywords and search strings. Either he’s code-named the shit out of everything, or he’s encrypted the important stuff.” Apollo scratches his head and then gathers back his hair from his face. “I’ll keep looking, but I have a feeling he’s not keeping anything important on here.”
“A feeling?” Cass sits back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “How about you actually check first?”
“The fuck crawled up your ass?” Apollo mutters, sending a questioning frown my way before focusing on Cass. “I’ve done this hundreds of times. I can tell if someone’s trying to hide shit.”
“I’d feel better if you took a good, hard look.”
Apollo lifts his thumbs from the keyboard, throwing me an exasperated look. “Zach—?”
“Do a manual search,” I say. “It’s the closest we’ve gotten to him yet. Maybe there’s something you’re missing.”
“Oh, there’s something missing all right. She only got like eighty percent of the drive. Guess she pulled out early.” He glances up with a coy grin which none of us return, and then mumbles something under his breath as he goes back to the laptop. “And, he hasn’t even bothered to clear his browser history in…” Apollo holds up a finger as he stares at the screen. “Forever. Literally, since the dawn of fucking time.”
“Or he could have deleted just the shit he didn’t want you to see, leave everything else, then it looks like he didn’t delete anything,” Cass says, lifting his eyebrows at Apollo.
“So either he’s really fucking innocent, or he’s really fucking guilty.” Apollo sniffs. “Go figure.”
“Apollo, take the laptop with you. Go through it today and make sure. Check every fucking cluster on that hard drive.”
He mutters something sarcastic about “clusters” and snaps the laptop closed with ill grace. “Sure thing, Captain.” He stands as he slings the backpack over his shoulder agai
n. “But on the off chance I’m right—” a glare for Cass “—what the fuck do we do? If it’s not on here, then he’s keeping it someplace else.”
I study him for a second, and then shrug. But before I can open my mouth, Cass cuts in. “We tell her it didn’t copy anything. Tell her she has to do it again.”
“I don’t know if she can,” I say.
Cass turns his glare on me. “Does it look like I give a fuck?”
“Dude, seriously, what’s your deal?” Apollo demands, his hand tightening on the backpack’s strap. “You have another wet dream about Zach and wake up with a sore ass?”
Cass rushes so fast to his feet, I’m already reaching to stop him going for Apollo. But he doesn’t rush him—he just stands there, chin up and shoulders back, as if waiting for Apollo to throw the first punch.
Then he grabs the neck of his sweater and tugs it down.
I squeeze my eyes shut. It’s instinct, something I’ve always done when I’m suddenly faced with a sight I can’t—or won’t—process.
But then I force my eyes open. Force myself to see.
I force myself to become a witness.
It’ll come down to us versus them, if I get my way. My brothers feel different, of course. They don’t want any of this shit going to trial. Their definition of justice is biblical.
An eye for an eye. A life for a life.
And they’re convinced that each and every Ghost took a life.
The marks around Cass’s neck are swollen and bruised. But he always bruised easily. The Ghosts liked that about him.
Easily damaged, but impossible to break.
Apollo gapes at Cass’s neck, the unspoken question writ large in his wide eyes.
“She’s going back, and she’s getting what we need,” Cass says through his teeth. “And this time, there won’t be a fucking noose around my neck.”
“I hear you, man,” Apollo says, putting out a hand as he immediately switches into conflict resolution mode. “But don’t you think we’re putting a lot of shit on her shoulders? What if she can’t do it?”
“She’s a smart girl, isn’t she? I’m sure she’ll figure it out. She just needs the right motivation.”
There’s a heartbeat of silence before Cass pushes past me. Apollo watches him leave and then turns angry eyes on me.
“What the fuck happened?”
I hold my tongue. I’d been about to spout a whole monologue about how shit got fucked up and it shouldn’t have gone down like it did. But none of that matters anymore, does it?
“I fucked up.” I take my seat again. I study the glass in my hand and then toss everything into the back of my throat. “I fucked up, and Cass got hurt.”
“Yeah, no shit.” Apollo sinks down on the edge of the armchair. “Is he okay, though? Like, mentally?”
“I don’t know. We haven’t had a chance to talk.”
I’d gone to his room last night. He hadn’t been there. I’d eventually tracked him down in the infirmary, where a grim-faced Timothy was filling up an orange prescription bottle for him.
When I’d tried to catch up to Cass in the hallway, he’d shoved me out of the way without saying a word. I know when I’m not wanted. I didn’t try and go to him again. I was hoping he’d have cooled off by now. Guess I was wrong.
I’ve been getting a lot of shit wrong lately.
“Does Reuben know?” Apollo asks quietly.
“No.”
“I’ll have to tell him.”
“Obviously.”
Apollo lets out a sigh. “He’s gonna be pissed.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Yeah, of course. But what’s done is done, right? Can’t change anything. No reason to start yelling and shit.”
I go over to refill my glass.
“Don’t you have class?” Apollo asks.
I set the bottle down again. “Yeah. Fuck.”
“Smoke a blunt,” Apollo says, coming up behind me. He lays a hand on my shoulder and squeezes my muscle. “It’ll help more than the whiskey. Want me to roll—?”
“Don’t you have shit to do?” I snap. “Reuben, the data, breakfast? Sounds like a busy fucking morning.”
Apollo withdraws his hand. The sigh he lets out as he leaves takes me back.
Fuck, it takes me back.
I’m losing my shit again, and he knows it. Cass probably knew it before anyone, but he loves playing with fire just as much as the rest of us.
But no one, no one likes to get burnt.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Trinity
Instead of going to morning prayer, I hide out in a restroom stall staring at the freshly painted door. From the faint marks shining beneath the white paint, it looks like someone had gone to town on the thing with a Sharpie. Wish I knew what they’d written.
My appetite hasn’t been back since I puked last night so I don’t bother going to the cafeteria when the breakfast bell rings. Instead, I head back to my room and try and get in an hour’s sleep.
The next bell rings me from a death-like sleep I don’t remember falling into.
Time for class.
Thankfully, I only have Calculus and Sociology before lunch. It gives me half the day to work up the courage to find a way to excuse myself from Psych with Brother Rutherford.
Despite my nap, exhaustion weighs down my limbs and fogs my mind.
I had an affair with your father.
I. Can’t. Even.
I thought I’d wanted answers from Gabriel, but I changed my mind.
Now that the shock’s worn off, all I’m left with is a weird mix of disgust and anger. Not disgust over the fact they’re two guys, but because Dad cheated on my mom. And with our fucking priest, of all people.
But that’s not what’s eating me alive.
If Gabriel is capable of having an affair, then what else is he capable of? And since he’s openly admitted that he has sex with men…
I cover my face with my hands and rock forward on my bed. Class starts in a few minutes, and I’m still dressed in last night’s clothes.
I came to Saint Amos to be with the man I thought of as a friend.
But I was wrong. There’s nothing here for me. No friends. No support.
Come the weekend, when all the other students transfer over to Sisters of Mercy for spring break…
I’ll be going with them.
When I enter the dining hall at lunch, finally peckish for the first time today, I immediately regret my decision when I spot my tray with its pink post-it note.
TRIN
There’s a heart over the I again. Thankfully, the actual food inside looks like everyone else’s. If anything had been cut into the shape of a heart, I’d have bolted.
Jasper tries to get my attention, but I ignore him and head for the back of the room. When I walk past the kitchen doors, I spot Apollo through the window.
I ignore him too, even when he beckons me with a flick of his hand.
The Brotherhood has what it wants. I’m sure Gabriel’s computer was stuffed full of all sorts of incriminating evidence. It’s time they realized I’m not useful anymore and left me alone.
Apollo doesn’t leave the kitchen or try and attract my attention again. I sit and eat my sandwich, pretending not to notice the way the boys around me stare as if expecting me to start doing somersaults.
Then Sister Miriam comes up to me, stopping right beside my bench during her usual rounds.
I pause mid-chew and look up at her as my mouthful of cheese-and-tomato sandwich dissolves on my tongue.
My stomach flips over when she hands me a folded note. “What’s this?”
“It’s a note, Miss Malone.” Miriam’s voice could have fixed our little issue with the melting ice caps.
“Thank you?”
But she’s already gone. The boys around have me have all transformed into spotted barn owls. I’m itching to fold open the note and find out what it says, but then anyone at the table could read it.
&n
bsp; It looks just like the notes the Brotherhood slips under my door. Same paper, same fold. Probably just a coincidence.
More likely, it’s a note from Father Gabriel.
Gabe.
I twist my mouth to the side and shove the note into my pocket. The dress Sister Ruth made for me feels softer after it’s gone through the laundry a few times. I’m grateful for the thick fabric now. It’s been raining pretty much nonstop since last night, so the temperature inside the dorms has plummeted.
I leave the other half of my sandwich uneaten, and take my tray to the rack filled with empty dishes. I spot Apollo in the window again, but I pretend not to see him beckoning me.
Did they find something on that device? Is that why—?
No, fuck it.
Curiosity killed the cat, hung the monkey, and drowned Trinity Malone.
I’m done looking for answers.
Chapter Thirty
Trinity
I get as far as the prayer room down the hall from the cafeteria. Glancing around, I duck behind the pillars shielding the alcove’s door and tug the note out of my pocket.
I apologize sincerely for my behavior last night. I was out of sorts, and I shouldn’t have handled such a delicate matter the way I did.
Please join me for dinner tonight.
I am sure you have many questions.
I would like to answer them.
Gabriel.
My heart is thundering like a waterfall by the time I reach the end. Did Miriam read this? There’d be no way for her to decipher such a vague letter, but I’m still convinced she knows everything.
I had an affair with—
Fuck!
I crumple up the letter and hurl it away from me, tears blurring my vision. I storm off as fast as my whipping skirts allow, wiping furiously at my eyes as more tears build up.
Why can’t I just be normal?
A normal girl, with a normal family, attending a normal school, with normal friends.
Is that too much to ask, Universe?
Rain batters my face. I glare up at the sullen clouds stretching from horizon to horizon. In their dull light, Saint Amos looks more like Dracula’s castle than ever before.
