by Logan Fox
But he orchestrated everything.
The feel of him so close against me, it’s worse than cleaning out the fucking grease trap.
It turns my stomach, gives me the shakes, and just when I think I’m about to puke…
It flicks a switch.
I’m useless, a victim. Then suddenly I’m not. Because all that rage, all that horror, all that shame and humiliation and pain rises up in me like a motherfucking tsunami.
And wherever it goes, it leaves devastation in its wake.
I let go of the arm around my throat. It clamps tighter. Lights sparkle in the darkness that’s eating away ten times as fast at the edges of my sight.
I clasp my hands. Throw back my arm. Drive my elbow into Gabriel’s stomach.
He makes a soft sound that sends a puff of ashtray breath against my face. His grip relents, but not enough. So I do it again. Then I stamp on his toes.
Fighting like a fucking girl, but still fighting. That’s what counts.
He folds forward, and I push back, shoving him against the edge of the metal desk. It must catch him somewhere painful—his hip, his ass, his kidneys, I don’t fucking know—because he yells out and loses hold of me.
I swing around and throw a punch. It lands solidly on his nose.
Blood gushes.
I start floating away.
Gabriel comes at me, teeth shining red through the blood. And all I can do is stand there as he rams into me. Drives me over Trinity’s legs and into the wall.
She’s lying on her side now, and I can only hope I didn’t hurt her. Trample her pretty legs, or bruise her beautiful skin.
Gabriel takes hold of my hair, twists it, rams my head into the wall. And then steps back as if to check out his work. The darkness comes, and with it some flashing lights. Pain is there, but distant, because I’m already fading. I slide down, my legs refusing to keep me up.
He puts a hand to his nose, coating it with blood. Looks stunned that there’s so much of it. Then he’s crouching, poking a needle into Trinity’s arm.
I want to tell her it’s going to be okay. That we’ll find her, somehow. That we’ll make Gabriel pay for whatever he’s planning to do with her.
Somehow.
But he’s already scooping her up. Her head lolls back, and I know it’s not because he might have broken her earlier, but because he set her mind free and it’s flapping away like a bird.
That’s something at least.
Whatever he does, she won’t mind it one bit anymore. That’s how that shit works.
Maybe I’ll tell her now, when I leave my body.
Because there’s nothing else left for me to do now but float away.
Float away and never come back.
Chapter Five
Cass
That bloody handprint feels like an accusation the closer I get. A blatant stamp of the Universe’s disapproval. I slam into the metal door, and barely manage to catch hold of the handle to stop it flying inward.
Inside, Apollo’s phone rings a last time before going silent. I hope that means that I’m not too late. But that glaring smear of red says otherwise.
Need to calm down. Need to get control.
But as soon as I’m inside and I see Apollo crumpled up against the wall, fury obliterates what little control I had left.
My hand shakes as I lift my phone. It’s already locked again, and now it doesn’t recognize my fingerprint, beeping impotently at me once, twice, fucking five times before it unlocks and lets me dial.
I go to my knees, trying to be gentle when I thumb back Apollo’s eyelid. Left, then right. No fucking clue if anyone’s still left behind those pupils though. I pat his cheek. He comes around with a groan. His head tips forward, but I push it back with fingers on his jaw, but gentle. Could be gay for him that’s how tender I’m being.
“Gabriel?” I ask. Meanwhile, my phone rings in my ear then goes to voice mail. I redial. Why the fuck isn’t Zach answering? “He did this?”
I mean, who else, right?
But how? Why? That’s what I need to know.
Apollo’s eyes roll around in their sockets as he tries to focus on me. He eventually gets out a pained, “Trinity.”
I frown, huff out a laugh. “Yeah, no. Try again. Gabriel, right?”
“He’s got Trinity.”
My blood turns into a raspberry slushie.
All that shit I was spouting about denial? Well, I guess I’m a pussy after all. I couldn’t have given less fucks when I found out Trinity had left. There was even a whole good-riddance vibe in my head. Because obviously she couldn’t handle the four of us. We were too much for that pretty little slut. Who wasn’t a slut after all, and I guess that goes a far way in explaining why she bolted in the first place.
But now?
Christ fucking Jesus.
I was bullshitting myself at a master level. Because if I didn’t give a fuck, there’d be no way I’d be outright getting heart palpitations at the thought that something bad might happen to our little girl. And that makes no sense, because we were just having a good time. I don’t do feelings. I don’t—dear God—do relationships. There’s no way you can date someone like me.
So why do I feel like someone’s gone and dug up my future grave, poured lighter fuel over my corpse, and set it alight?
The phone goes to voice mail. I call Reuben without missing a beat.
Apollo’s eyes flicker, about to close.
“Nuh-uh,” I tell him, gripping his jaw harder. Next I’ll be putting my nails in him. “Tell me what happened.”
He winces, but whether that’s from whatever blunt trauma he experienced or my grip is difficult to say. I won’t call him an outright pussy, but he’s never been able to handle pain, or blood, or any of that shit. Despite what he claims when we get pissed and rage about the deliciously dark shit we’ll do to our Ghosts, I know he’ll be the one standing outside, keeping watch. Or digging the grave. Or something that doesn’t include binding, torturing, and killing.
It’s not that he can’t hurt a fly. He swats them all right. But he only does it hard enough to daze them, and then tosses them out the window.
“Apollo!” When he doesn’t respond, I try, “Trevor!”
His eyes go wide. He winces again. Mumbles, “He took her.”
“Yeah, you said that already, Christ. Where did he take her? Did he say anything? Does he know?” Too many questions, but I can barely stop myself from yelling at this point.
“He…I dunno. Didn’t say where.” Then he closes his eyes, and I’m convinced he’s about to start crying.
“Cass?” Reuben’s voice legit makes me flinch.
I turn away from Apollo, letting go of his head and glancing around the tiny room as I talk to Rube. “Yeah, buddy? We got a serious fucking problem on our hands.”
Chapter Six
Zach
I’m headed to Gabriel’s room when I get the call. I shouldn’t even have checked who it was—my mission is set in stone. I must find Gabriel before he leaves Saint Amos.
We know he’s staying behind to oversee the repairs to Saint Amos. Him and him alone. Which is perfect, because by the time they figure out Gabriel’s missing, we’ll be lost in the woods. Even if they send out search parties, the chances of them finding that decrepit hunting lodge is slim to none.
Reuben is on his way to the admin offices. We want to make sure Gabriel doesn’t have a chance to escape if he happens to catch wind of his own death. Fuck, for all we know, he has a direct line to Satan and Old Scratch sends him prophetic messages every now and then.
Cass and Apollo are probably disobeying me and having a joint together somewhere. They take things like summer break too fucking seriously. It pisses me off, but I can’t really blame them for acting like the kids they are.
My phone rings as I step into Gabriel’s hallway. I hurriedly take it out of my pocket to silence it, cursing myself for being idiotic enough not to have done that already. When I see it’s
an unknown number, my curiosity is piqued. Only a handful of people have this number and none of them would phone from an unknown number.
I hurry back down half a flight of stairs before answering, fully expecting to hear Gabriel’s voice on the other end of the line. Not that he’s one of the handful. But the feeling’s impossible to shake for the precious second before an old lady says, “Hello. May I please speak with Mason Price?”
It takes another second before I can answer. “Speaking.”
“Mr. Price, it’s Beverley from California Key Realty. Is this a good time?”
I stop breathing. My back’s against the wall, and I use it as support to slide down until I’m hunkered in a crouch.
I force myself to take a breath.
“No time like the present,” I say, and even manage a faint chuckle. “What can I help you with, Beverly?”
I stare at my phone for a few minutes after the call ends. My fingertips are still tingling. My chest still feels too tight. But for the first time in a long, long time, those feelings bring relief—even joy—and not anxiety.
It’s done.
It’s fucking done.
We got the house.
Soon as it’s out of escrow, it’ll be ours.
There’s a grin on my face, and I can’t seem to shake it. Fuck, I don’t even want to. I draw in a huge breath as I stand, and for a moment it feels like I’m still rising, like a fucking balloon some sweaty kid lost at the fair.
Christ. Why am I so surprised? In this economy, with my generous offer? But I am surprised. Fuck it, I’m shocked. Because honest to God I thought the Universe would send a last fuck-you to the four boys it’s been such a motherfucking cunt to all these years.
Nothing’s ever been easy.
Getting out of the basement.
Trying to keep us together. Focused.
It’s been hard fucking work all the way.
I can’t remember how many times I’ve wanted to give up. How often I’ve wanted to let the Universe win.
But then I’d think of them.
Of my brothers.
And I’d find my second wind. I’d get the strength I need to tell them we need to push on. And they’d rally. They always rally.
I shove my phone in my pocket and head for Gabriel’s apartment again. But my euphoria starts fading the closer I get. My steps become reluctant.
About a yard from his door, I slow down. Then stop.
This means everything to them, to me…but I can’t stop thinking about the house. I’m even getting fucking feels about it. All I want to do is spill my guts to them. I’d call them, but it has to be in person. I want to see their faces light up as I tell them about the infinity pool and the dance room and all those big fucking windows. Light everywhere. The coast so close you can taste salt in the air.
Fuck.
I rake fingers through my hair.
Fuck!
He’s one man, Gabriel, but suddenly I feel like I’m facing off against an army. And it’s just me this time. I don’t have any of them. Yeah, I’m only supposed to find out where he is. Track him until we’ve got everything in place to grab him. But it’s suddenly too real. And, at the same time, surreal.
I’m walking into a nightmare, when I should be heading for the life of my dreams.
That house is everything we’ve always wanted—
I close my eyes, shake my head.
What the hell am I thinking? Of course they won’t be happy. This—I open my eyes and glare at Gabriel’s door—this is what they want.
What I want.
What we’ve always wanted since that first repulsive hand touched us. Since that first voice whispered to us that everything was going to be fine, as long as we play along.
It’s just a game. You like games, don’t you, Mason? Can I call you Mason?
My skin crawls at the thread of unwanted memory, but I’m too agitated to push it away. So it slithers in deeper, grabs hold of my conscious mind.
I fold my fingers around Gabriel’s door handle. Open the door. It should be locked, but it isn’t.
This game, I call it hide and seek. But we’ll be playing it a little differently, okay?
My Ghost’s voice raises goosebumps on my skin. I grit my teeth and step inside Gabriel’s apartment. The next door is standing open. I swear I can hear sounds coming from inside.
I’m going to take this chocolate—you see it?—and I’m going to hide it. You like chocolate don’t you, Mason? You must be hungry. If you find the chocolate, then you can eat it.
My heart hammers inside my rib cage like a fist trying to break down a door. I slink to the side, pressing my back to the wall.
There’s a clatter from inside Gabriel’s room.
Fuck. He’s here. I have to leave. Go wait by the stairs. Watch him. Send a message, let my brothers know—
Now close your eyes, Mason. Close your eyes so I can hide the chocolate. Good boy. Keep them closed. I’m hiding it now. Good boy. Keep them closed. Give me your hand. Yes, good boy. Now I want you to find it. Go on. Don’t be scared. Put your hand in, Mason. There. You feel that? Feels good, doesn’t it?
Nausea wells up so fast, so bitter, I taste bile in my mouth before I can swallow it down.
The world swims, and for a second I’m convinced I’m back there in that room. My first night with my Ghost. Playing hide and fucking seek with a sicko.
I cataloged them all. My Ghost, their Ghosts. They’re all saved neat and tidy inside my head. Their voices, what their aftershave smelled like, the size and shape of their dicks. Any rings, or freckles or scars on their hands. Those that showed their faces? They’ll be the easiest to find. But we’ll find them all.
Each and every last one of them.
Keep them for as long as it takes. Until we’re satisfied.
And then burn them at the motherfucking stake. A sacrificial offering to the God who abandoned us, left us to rot in that basement with those demons.
My phone trembles as I bring it out of my pocket. The memory retreats. Finally have my body under control again. Sticking to the plan.
But before I can back out, something slams closed inside Gabriel’s room. Thankfully, instinct takes over. I throw myself against the wall, crowding into a corner by the small key table. Holding my breath, closing my eyes.
He swarms right past me.
I catch a whiff of his aftershave as he disturbs the air, and like I always have, compare it to the database inside my head.
Unless he’s changed what he wears, he’s not one of them. Not one of the men who abused us.
Gabriel leaves his apartment in a rush, not bothering to close the door behind him. I wait for my arms and legs to stop quivering, and then slip out of the room and follow him down the hall.
I start to type out a message, but then I hesitate.
I almost lost control back there. Teetering on a knife’s edge. Me. Them. I’m good at bringing myself back from the void, but they aren’t. It’s their one weakness.
I’ll follow Gabriel, see where he’s going. If he looks to be leaving, then I’ll let them know. Then we can take him down.
I lick my lips as I wait for him to hurry down the first flight of stairs, then I follow him.
Silent.
Wary.
I’m always thinking of traps. Still not entirely convinced he doesn’t know exactly who we are. That’s my paranoia of course. Not as easily turned off as old memories.
You feel that, Mason? It feels nice, doesn’t it? Oh, you’re such a good boy.
Gabriel goes to the bell tower. And that makes no sense, but I follow him anyway. I follow him all the way up the stairs and then hang around out of sight behind the first twist in the stairwell.
What’s up there? A big fucking bell. Is this part of his provostial duties or something? Does he have to ring the bell to signal the end of term or some shit?
I still feel sick. My skin feels oily. I could use a shower to wash that debilitating memory off me.
But I’ll watch Gabriel first.
My phone’s still on silent, so it vibrates furiously when someone calls.
Cass.
But I can’t take it now. I need to listen. I need to be a few steps ahead when Gabriel comes down again.
And then he does. But something’s different. His footsteps sound heavier than before. Little details like that don’t get past me. I was on full alert back in that basement…I don’t think I’ve ever gone back to normal.
I sneak down the steps as fast as I can, and it’s too easy to stay ahead of him, silent like this. Because he’s moving slower. Carrying something, maybe. Something heavy enough to slow him down. It’s driving me mad trying to figure it out, so I just fucking stop with the mental gymnastics. I concentrate on staying ahead, keeping the sound of his heavy footsteps within earshot.
I slip into a nearby alcove when the stairs exit on the top floor landing. I’m sure the shadows are hiding me, but I’m quivering with adrenaline when Gabriel finally shows.
What?
No.
I blink, hard. Then again.
Is that…?
I watch Gabriel walk past with Trinity in his arms. If I ever had any doubt they were father and daughter, seeing them together eradicates it.
Same dark hair. Same nose, even. His is slightly larger, of course, and there’s a fan of blood leaking from it that makes me think Trinity must have put up quite a fucking fight.
I follow as soon as he has a big enough lead on me. I expect him to go to his room seeing as it’s only one hallway to the left, but instead he takes the stairs.
My phone vibrates again, but I don’t bother checking. I know I should be calling my brothers and updating them on the situation, but there’s a question that plays on repeat in my mind, crowding out all other thought.
Why is she still here?
Why is she still here?
Why the fuck is Trinity Malone still here?
Chapter Seven
