The Rebirth of Sin (Wicked Trinity Book 2)

by Courtney Lane

  -THE SECT

  In spite of the nature of the situation surrounding me, I could count on the sanctuary to give peace—even if it was temporary. It became a ritual I never missed a day of: run every morning and come to the altar to pray.

  At Rebirth, it was different. I had to make my own sanctuary inside my home there. I kept the door locked, making sure no one would ever find out about it. If anyone at Rebirth entered, it would taint it. Besides Keaton, every single fucking one of the people were evil or some aspect of evil that had to be purged from the world. I wouldn’t count the ones who stayed in the houses as pure, either. We all had a choice. Their choice to kill for revenge made them no better than the criminals in the theater. Only one could be called an exception. She wasn’t a member; she was something bigger than the idea of Rebirth.

  In the world outside, it was worse. No one could claim clean hands. Public churches were different. They were built on prayers and blessings. The ground was consecrated. No matter how morally shitty the inhabitants or visitors were, they were sacred places.

  As I prayed, I fingered the cross necklace around my neck—the one I only wore when I was inside a church. I never prayed for God to purge me of evil. I wasn’t. He gave me a vengeful spirit for a reason, and I would never argue with my blessings. The Bible wasn’t a conduit to me like it served to be for most people. It was a tainted piece of literature, altered and malformed by humanity. Nothing mortal symbolized a catalyst. Nothing stood between my direct communication between me and the Creator.

  I could feel her before I saw her. It had always been that way. She was my mother, my teacher, and my mentor. She saved me, and I saved her. She taught me how to live again.

  We had a connection I’d never been able to find with anyone else. She knew me inside and out—all the dirty things that made me who I was. She never found any fault in me. She made me feel like a god at times, and other times, she made me feel human.

  I called her Mrs. Sherman out of habit, but it wasn’t her birth name. She grabbed my hand, and as is our ritual, we repeated our prayer together.

  “Did you bring what I needed?” I asked her.

  She leaned back on the pew and threw her arm over the back of it. “I thought you were done with the mission.”

  “I need to take it up again. I can tell I’m pushing Keaton too far too soon. I need a…distraction.”

  She raised a brow at me in surprise. It was new to her and new to me. Delicacy was involved in shaping someone into something you wanted her to become—something completely different from who others shaped her to be.

  “Are you scared you’re going to lose her?”

  “No. I’m scared I’m going to lose a part of myself.”

  “And you and I both know that can’t happen,” she reminded me.

  Slipping the cross back down underneath my shirt, I sank back in the pew. “Do you have something for me?” I asked her again.

  She slid the file onto my lap. The file on the man who I deservedly punished in the alley. When I opened the folder, what I saw staring back at me was disappointing. The man’s extensive history and present was completely clean. “I’m not losing my touch.” I tried to convince myself I wasn’t wrong; he needed to suffer.

  “You are losing your touch because you’re being impatient. You’re usually more careful than this. What have I taught you?”

  Her very first lesson coincided with the death of our first official member at Rebirth—Father Corrica. He thought he could seek refuge in the closed and protected community. I didn’t know it then, but he was running from his priesthood and his position at a seminary school. He’d sexually assaulted more than a dozen boys and was hiding from the law. For some reason, when he met me, he decided he couldn’t fight his nature, and he’d been chasing after me ever since.

  Mrs. Sherman and I lured him onto the property in North Dakota—which was only two houses strong with a theater at the time—on a false pretense. We lured them all there with a false purpose. The reason was catered to the person. Most of the time, it worked. The evil in the world thrived off giving into every single impulse they had. Nothing was out of their reach. Giving them something and making it seem exclusive was usually all it took.

  For Father Corrica, it was all the little boys he could manage to fuck. He was my first kill, and it took a lot of hand holding from Mrs. Sherman. Once it was done, it created a hunger that constantly needed to be fed. The killing and the infliction of torture was a daily practice at Rebirth, and it fulfilled me, ensuring I never needed to touch another drug again.

  The only time I felt tempted is when my brother turned into our father, and my power at Rebirth had flipped completely out of balance, giving him too much of the favor. I didn’t work my ass off to build the place only to have it create an animal I couldn’t tame. I walked away and returned when he gave me a reason to come back. He didn’t know it at the time, but his big mouth is what allowed me to use what he wanted against him to break his spirit and tear the place down.

  “I’ve looked up my resources at various rehab centers,” Mrs. Sherman told me, “and they aren’t coming up with anything.”

  “Because this duo is missing its third member.”

  There was a look in her eyes, and I knew it well. In her words, she “didn’t care for” Nadine. “You think Nadine will want to speak with you? Last I knew, she was pretty upset with what you did and who you did it for.”

  “I didn’t end Rebirth for Keaton,” I countered, taking offense. “You know that, and Nadine is wrong if she thinks that. It was probably her jealousy overcoming her common sense.”

  “You walked away from it for a good reason. Why did you bother destroying it if you’re just going to restart it again?”

  “I never meant for Rebirth to go on as long as it did while adhering to the same principles. It continued to attract the wrong kind of attention. I’ve come to the conclusion that it has to go on and it has to be built on a different set of principles.”

  “Sometimes the mission becomes bigger than the man and lives on even after he’s put down the baton.”

  “The original purpose wasn't working anymore,” I explained. “It had to die, and I was the only one who could do it.”

  “Or maybe you were afraid of what the place was turning into?”

  “I was never afraid. I was never more myself. I’m not my brother, I didn’t have to act the part; I was the part.”

  “That’s not necessarily true. You had to act when Keaton came along.”

  Her statement made me a little leery, but I couldn’t show that to her. She had issues at first with the way we decided to manipulate Keaton. When I told Mrs. Sherman I needed her to be a part of it and put the idea into her mind that she could live through Keaton’s sexual experiences with me, she was less reluctant with the idea.

  “That…was different,” I carried on. “It was never about me. I didn’t like the man my brother had become. He wasn’t pretending to act like Magnus Oliver, he was him, back from the dead, and he couldn’t stop it.” I couldn’t speak the name of the brother who was dead. The brother who I killed. I was gleeful about the proof of his demise when I received his dental records and a firm ID on his death. I went to see his body before I had it enclosed in the cheapest pine casket I could find and interred without a tombstone in Bumbfuck, South Dakota. I had to see his body and know that every piece of his charred flesh rang as my brother. I needed all avenues of proof to be explored and to know that he was dead and would remain that way. He barely looked human. Most of the flesh and bone had burned away, blackened. I saved the bullet I implanted in his body and had it encased in glass. I only hoped he died screaming in agony.

  He was the only one who knew all my secrets. Not even Mrs. Sherman knew about all of them. Namely, how I really grew up or what life was really like for me beyond the way my parents treated me; it had to stay that way. My secrets were buried with him. My secrets are kept with Mrs. Sherman, too. She’s loyal to me. I co
uldn’t say the same of my deceased brother. We were disloyal to each other.

  I took from him what he wanted and provoked him into doing things to make sure he would never have it. I inadvertently helped the monster to grow and become a man we both hated. I could never figure out my brother’s reasons for doing everything I told him to or provoked him into doing. I never cared to find out why. He was a brat who didn’t appreciate the love and attention my parents had given him. I didn’t care to think anything else.

  Magnus Oliver was the most purest form of evil and my brother nearly topped him.

  I’d convinced Keaton during her time at Rebirth that everything I did was to help her. It could’ve been construed as false. At the time, I didn’t believe it was a lie. I had no plans to love her. I had no plans on keeping her for very long after I had broken her. None whatsoever. Many of my plans were shot to shit.

  The woman I thought I could change her into, transformed into someone unexpected. Rebirth and Shiloh had to die, because if they didn’t, she would’ve discovered the truth about me. And if she found out, I would’ve lost her forever. I’d killed and orchestrated many events to prevent that from happening. I’d killed to make sure the reincarnation of the worst evil I had known never had a chance to thrive in the world again. I would do worse to make sure I got the things I wanted.

  My brother’s real name and past was kept out of the news, because I made it so. I didn’t want anyone tying his deeds to me and digging into his past. It would’ve fucked things up for me.

  Things should’ve been as perfect as they could be. I should’ve been able to settle down. It all changed when I’d agreed to come back to D.C. I never intended to restart Rebirth after it died. But now I knew how to prevent it from becoming a factory for producing monsters. On the contrary, it would be a hell of their own making where they faced their final recompense. It had to be up and running again. This time, it would have a different purpose and a different Reven. This time, it would be an epic success and run for much longer than Rebirth did.

  “I don’t care what you have to do, get me an in with Nadine,” I told Mrs. Sherman. “I’ll invite her and Adam over for dinner and play nice. Maybe it will be what Keaton needs to see. That I’ve put it all behind me.”

  “You can’t keep making her believe in your lies,” she retorted. “You have to be honest with her. If you’re not, the lies that are eating away at you will destroy the both of you. I know it’s affecting her in ways you might not have intended.”

  “She’s fine,” I told her, my reply curt. “I’m giving her what she needs and she’s giving me some of the things I need.”

  She held up her hands in defeat. “I’ll look into getting Nadine to fly in here from New York.”

  She nodded to the altar; a man was on his knees, sobbing with his head bowed.

  “Is he for me?” I asked with a grin.

  “He is. His name is Syl.” She reached up to stroke my hair; a soothing mechanism I’d never encountered before meeting her. The first time she did it was the very first time she let me purge my sins onto her skin. “I always know what you need and when you need it, Noah.”

  Standing upright, I walked sideways to get out of the pew and kneeled down beside Syl at the altar. “I don’t think he can hear your prayers between all of your wallowing.”

  “I’m sorry if I disturbed you,” said the man.

  “You didn’t bother me too much. What’s the problem?”

  “I can’t say,” he replied, blubbering.

  I gave him a friendly smile and immediately eased up his apprehension. “You’d be shocked by how understanding I can be.” I gave him a nod. “Noah.”

  “Syl.” He attempted to extend his hand, but changed his mind. “Why does He create so much temptation in our lives? I feel like such a failure because I can’t keep myself from it.”

  “You mean pleasure?”

  “It’s testing me. It’s making it hard for me deny it because it feels so…good. I know it’s the devil’s work. Lead us not into temptation and deliver us from evil.”

  “It’s bullshit,” I mocked him with a chortle.

  Shocked, he looked around the church and quickly bowed his head. “W-what are you saying?”

  “Pleasure and happiness are one in the same, aren’t they? Any religion that denies you your right to be happy isn’t one worth subscribing to.”

  “I don’t…I don’t know. The way I am. The things I want.”

  I knew exactly what he was burdened with and it had nothing to do with the pleasures of sex. It was the kind of sex he liked and whom he liked it with. “Does it feel good to you?”

  He bobbed his head.

  “Either it’s your guilt that’s keeping you from fully enjoying it, or the guy who is fucking you isn’t doing it right.”

  I had his full attention by then. In his eyes I could see the exploitable hope and the longing. He thought I was going to save him from the fight against what he wanted.

  I was going to make him indulge in it.

  “Do you trust me?” I asked him.

  “I’m not sure if I should.”

  I shrugged because it didn’t matter if he trusted me or not. I knew someone who would be impressionable when I saw them. He would follow me into the depths of Hell when I was done breaking him. “Follow me,” I said, standing. “I want to take you on a ride.”

  “I took a pleasure in causing everyone’s pain. Hurting you? I’ve never felt more gratified than I do when I hurt you. You should hate me because it’s a very dangerous thing to like me.”

  -THE SECT

  Sonja led me through her renovated brownstone, showing me what she had done to the rooms. The last time I had been to her house it was shortly before Reese and Phoebe were murdered.

  She was never the friend to give advice. Instead, she listened and let me speak until I uncovered the solution within myself.

  When we reached the final room, she paused. The walls were a jewel-tone turquoise, and the bed contained silk linens with saris draped over the canopy. A golden candelabra hung from the ceiling and several decorative boxy-sized pillows were gathered in bundles in the corners. Its romantic decadence immediately drew me in.

  “I think this room is hands down my favorite.” I stood in the middle of it and slowly twirled.

  “It’s our boom room.”

  Swirling around, I placed my hands on my hips and arched a brow. “Boom room?”

  “All of the guests who stay in this room say it has an energy or restorative properties. It doesn’t matter if they are on the outs with their partner or in love, this room is where the best orgasms happen.”

  “Sonja,” I gasped, covering my mouth. Between Brandy’s party-girl ways turning into more sordid pleasures and Sonja’s room for sex, my friends’ sexuality blinded me and smothered me. My issues with intimacy were still there. Things were different with Noah because he dealt pleasure with torment. It was as if I was being punished and rewarded at once. Unfortunately, the punishments were swiftly imposing on the limit of what I could endure. It once had a way of pulling me out of my head and overriding my guilt. Being forced to hold strongly to a high threshold of suffering reminded me of my shortcomings. My poisoned thoughts were on the brink of becoming so potent they spoke louder than my naturally decent and positive thoughts.

  “Is it too much?” Sonja immediately backtracked, her brown eyes glimmering with concern. “I know where you were…” She halted her statement to take a few deep breaths. “I don’t want to walk around eggshells with you, Keaton. I know it can feel like you’re being ostracized when people do that.”

  “No, it’s not too much,” I told her with a smile.

  “I love that I have a room in my house that makes people feel that kind of energy.” She set her gaze to the painted gold-scroll design on the ceiling. “It’s good for the house. Good for Craig and me.”

  “Well… I won’t be a guest who adds to the energy.”

  She folded her ar
ms, her intense gaze poked holes into my assuredness. “Don’t be too sure.”

  I sat down on the edge of the firm bed and looked around the room. It radiated romance, if that is what she meant by the energy in the room. I felt her stare and met her eye level.

  A storm of torment was behind her eyes. She seemed unwilling to unleash it and remained silent.

  “Did you and Brandy have a talk about me?”

  She shook her head with a sullen smile. “We aren’t going to do the prod and push conversation. When you want to talk to me, you know I’m here.” Extending her hand, she gestured for me. “I think the eggplant bake is done.”

  I took her hand and followed her down the stairs.

  I, along with Nathan and Craig, helped her prep the table. There were a few former friends in attendance that I hadn’t communicated with in a long time.

  I glanced at the chair beside my place setting, not yet occupied by the one person who was supposed to be there.

  Shortly after the first course, Nathan began to fill the silent space by chatting about his decision to move to D.C. and possibly start up a new practice here.

  “I…never thought you’d be a divorce lawyer.” I chose my words carefully to avoid offending him.

  “I don’t think any of us saw that coming,” Brandy muttered into her glass of wine.

  “I have friends out in Chicago,” said the woman with strawberry blonde hair, who used to be my Zumba partner at one point, “who tell me you’re well known out there. I believe she said something like you were a vampire for the defendants in divorce cases.”

  “I’m very good at what I do,” Nathan replied.

  I thumbed my phone from where it rested on my lap, hoping for a response to my unanswered texts and phone calls.

  Sonja and Craig had begun to serve dinner and the invitees were eager to dig in, but seemed to be waiting on something…or someone.

  “Go ahead and eat.” I waved at them while simpering. “I don’t want to ruin your dinner.”