by Cole, Tillie
Diel was sure there was no one in the entire world who would understand what he and his brothers had gone through, the darkness that they were born with, and the fact that they needed to kill and would never give that up—not for anyone. How would anyone understand Purgatory and the torture room that the Brethren would take them to? How would they understand that he had been chained to a bed for most of his life, and now wore metal collar around his neck?
Raphael broke from Maria’s mouth and sat down beside Michael, golden eyes tracking his woman’s every move. Raphael was obsessed with Maria. He hadn’t killed her when she’d been more than willing. That said everything. Diel’s monster wouldn’t stop for anyone.
Gabriel cleared his throat. Maria looked at Gabe, and with a short nod, he faced Diel and his brothers. “Since we left Purgatory and found our home here at Eden Manor, we have lived by a certain set of rules, commandments that each of you have followed rigidly, religiously.” Gabriel glanced at Raphael. “At least most of you have.” Raphael smirked, then looked at Maria, zero apology in his expression for breaking the commandment forbidding him from bringing Maria home. “We have targeted certain people for you to kill—killers who needed to be stopped, who had hurt others and deserved to face retribution at your hands.”
Diel’s hands fisted at his sides when he felt his monster stirring, waking at the sound of Gabriel’s voice. It never settled anymore. It pushed at Diel constantly, forever pacing and snarling to be set free, to finally take control. And Diel was weakening. He was losing the fight he’d fought since childhood. His eyes moved over his brothers. Bara and Uriel still wore the worst of the injuries he’d inflicted on them in the gym. A quick glance at Sela beside him showed him that even his best friend hadn’t been spared by the monster—it didn’t care who it hurt; it had no boundaries or loyalties. Family meant nothing when the tantalizing ecstasy of violence and death was before it. The monster took and took, gaining strength with each kill, until it was a frenzied beast who only rested when its bloodlust had been sated or Gabriel turned the collar back on and forced it to retreat.
The gash on Sela’s cheek showed the lack of mercy Diel’s monster, once freed, would show anyone—even the person closest to him.
“But that way of living isn’t working anymore,” Gabriel said, and Diel swung his head toward his older brother. Gabriel’s bright blue eyes met his, and Diel felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. What did that mean? Diel’s heart rate increased, and he saw his brothers shift on their seats in his peripheral. But his attention was firmly on Gabriel. Gabriel sighed and never took his eyes from Diel. “So we’re changing tack.”
Maria addressed the brothers. “The Brethren need to be stopped. We all know that. We all agree on that.” The sound of crashing waves filled Diel’s ears as Maria spoke those words. She moved wayward strands of her thigh-length hair from her face. “The Brethren exist in the shadows.” Maria’s lips curved into a proud smile. “But so do we.” Sela was stock-still beside him. Any talk of the Brethren pulled Sela’s entire focus. All of the Fallen hated the Brethren; they loathed them and wanted nothing more than to see them scream and burn. But Sela was even more invested in the secret sect of priests than the others. Sela was blood tied to the sadistic cult, and filled with the desire for revenge against one specific member.
“To defeat the Brethren, their slayers must live in the shadows too,” Maria said, voice clear and unyielding. Diel had watched her grow in strength as she took her place beside Gabriel as leader to the brothers, as she grew in love with Raphael. “They must be equipped with the skills to rival the Brethren’s evil. They must not shy away from the Brethren’s strength and wickedness.”
“To rival them, they must share elements of that wickedness too,” Gabriel said, picking up where Maria left off. “They must know what it is like to be under the Brethren’s control, what it is to be hurt by their archaic inquisitor trials and medieval punishments. And they must have a burning need to defeat them, a single-minded purpose that will never fade, no matter how hard the battle against them may be.”
“Mmm …” Bara mused, his finger tracing patterns on the wooden table. “Whoever could that be?” he drawled and gave a toothy grin, but the evil that blazed in his green eyes like the stars on a clear night revealed how much he wanted, needed this. They all did. The tension around the table was palpable; the air pulsed with their need to turn onto this new path Gabriel and Maria were laying out like an offering. The Fallen coveted the deaths of the Brethren like they did no other—it was their greatest fantasy come to life.
Gabriel straightened his shoulders, but Diel saw the strained expression on his face, the tension in his muscles. Gabriel had always felt too much. Diel couldn’t understand such empathetic thoughts. “If we do this … If we steer our ship in this direction, there will be no turning back.”
“We’ve always been on this path,” Sela said, and Gabriel met his dark eyes. “Since the day they took us into Purgatory, we have been on this trajectory. They put us on it.”
Sela’s long black hair fell over his face as he looked down, his pencil pressing into the tabletop as he sketched whatever was in his mind. When he lifted his head, Diel saw the image he’d created on the old wooden surface. The monster roared inside his head at the memories the image inspired, at the sensory onslaught—the sounds, the tastes, the sights, the smells, the fucking putrid smell of the Brethren’s sweat sticking to his back as they grunted into his ear. The lone drawing was a motherfucking spell, conjuring up all the fucked-up things the Fallen had been put through.
Diel shook as his eyes raked over the image. A boy on his hands and knees, and a Brethren priest above him, purifying him of evil with his “holy seed.” Diel’s hands shook harder, and he brought them to the table to stop them.
“Diel.” A voice was calling his name. The electrical collar snapped in warning at his quickening pulse. But Diel couldn’t take his eyes off that fucking drawing. The Brethren cunts deserved to die. He felt the need to run, to find them and kill them, rise inside of him like a wild tide. He could almost feel the moment he would stab through their hearts. Glare into their gazes as he rid them of their fucked-up lives and tossed them into the depths of hell where they all belonged.
A searing shock of pain sliced through his body, setting him alight. Diel dropped to the floor. He breathed against the white heat traveling through his body at breakneck speed. His teeth clenched so hard they were close to shattering; his skin singed and his muscles contracted against the searing feeling deep in their fibers.
“Breathe.” A voice came close. The monster roared, needing out, clawing at Diel’s insides to escape the collar and kill anyone who was close. “Breathe, brother,” Diel heard again, and he held on to that voice by the skin of his teeth. “Breathe.” He pushed back the monster, sucking in a deep breath at the amount of strength it took just to keep himself in his own body and not give over to the darkness. “Let your pulse slow.”
With a strained bellow and sweat dripping down his face, Diel pushed the monster back, and he breathed, just as the familiar voice had instructed. He knew that voice. He trusted that voice.
Gabriel … it was Gabriel.
The red mist cleared from Diel’s eyes, and the wooden floor came into view. His hands were splayed on the floorboards. His neck flamed from the shock of the collar. He breathed fast, erratically, chest aching and lungs burning. His mouth was dry. Almost as if he’d read Diel’s mind, Sela crouched down beside him and handed him a glass of water. Diel forced his tensed muscles to move, and he sat back on his haunches. No, Sela hadn’t read his mind. His best friend was used to this. All his brothers were getting increasingly used to this.
Sela threaded his arm underneath Diel’s and helped him get to his feet and sit back in his chair. The minute his ass hit the seat, Diel felt the lethargy kick in. He looked up to see his brothers watching him, before Gabriel retook his place beside Maria at the head of the table and got straight to th
e point.
“We’re going after the Brethren. From this day forward, our mission in life will be to rid the world of the pretender priests we know all too well. Our own commandments still stand, always will. But our targets have changed.”
“You know where they are hiding?” Raphael asked.
“No.” Maria leaned on the table. “But we’re working on it.” She glanced at Gabriel and nodded, something unspoken passing between them.
“We don’t have much, but we have a couple of leads. It at least gives us a place to start.” Gabriel stepped back from the table. “We’re meeting in the Tomb for Revelation in ten minutes. This begins tonight.”
The fatigue weighing Diel down burst into smithereens the minute Gabriel said those words. Gabriel and Maria moved toward the stairs that led to the Tomb.
Once they’d disappeared, Sela sat back in his chair, running his hands through his hair. He blew out a breath. “We’re finally going after them.”
“About fucking time,” Bara said, cheeks bright with excitement.
“I’m gonna enjoy this,” Uriel said darkly, biting on his lip, his silver lip ring caught between his teeth as it glinted off the ornate chandelier above the dining table.
“So many necks to choke, so little time,” Raphael said, the string around his finger as tight as always.
Michael circled his long, black-painted nail around the rim of his glass of blood. He clutched the vial around his neck with his other hand, not offering a single spoken word, as always.
Diel rocked back and forth on his seat, itching to move, to kill, to kill the fucking red-dog-collar-wearing fucks who’d tortured him, who’d caged his monster and torn him apart.
A hand landed on his shoulder. “Let’s go, brother. It’s time,” Sela said, and they all rose from the table and made their way to the stairs. The dank air of the Tomb drifted into Diel’s nose as his feet descended the slippery stone steps. The sound of their footsteps echoed his thudding heartbeat.
Gabriel and Maria waited at the Fallen’s altar, red robes in place and hoods over their heads. But it was the scroll Gabriel held that Diel became fixated on. He needed that scroll to bear his name. He needed to be the one to go at the Brethren first. He needed to sate the monster’s cravings for death before the monster consumed him.
Sela handed Diel his robe, and Diel threw it on. He pulled up his hood, his heavy breathing circling like a vortex in the confinements of the thick material. He dropped to his knees on the stone floor beside his brothers and waited for Gabriel to step forward and begin.
Diel held his breath as Gabriel walked along his kneeling brothers. But then Gabriel stopped in front of him and held out the scroll. Time slowed as Diel reached out and took it, the parchment burning his palm with how much he needed this release.
Getting to his feet, Diel ripped off his cloak, then ran upstairs. He opened the scroll on the dining table in the Nave and let his eyes scan the names on the scroll. Five of them. Five different houses to hit. Every fucker on the list a member of the Brethren.
He felt his brothers gather around him, reading the scroll too. “Five of them,” Bara said, his voice dropping an octave, desire lacing each word. Diel whipped his head to his redheaded brother before reading the names on the scroll again. Bara’s eyes were closed, and his usually pale skin was a scarlet red. “Imagine the screams.” Bara groaned. “Like a fucking symphony.”
“I’ll be going with you as always.” Diel turned, and Gabriel was behind him, cloak gone and back to his everyday clerical clothing. “We’ll be going from house to house.” Diel needed the chase, to feel his adrenaline pump as he fled for the next location on foot. The spree. It was all about the spree, the frenzied sprint to the next victim, the fresh Massachusetts air slapping his burning face as he prepared to take another life. “I’ll be close by to bring you back in after the final home.”
Diel gripped the scroll in his hand and looked at Gabriel. He hated the collar being turned back on, the fall from the high that the murders would take him to. “When do we leave?”
“Soon. Get ready,” Gabriel said. He looked at the rest of the Fallen. “I’ll be going into the houses after Diel. I’m not just going tonight to control his collar. We need new leads. I need to find something on the Brethren that will clue us in to where they are, how many of them there are, which parishes have been polluted by their evil. All avenues Maria and I have tried have come up short so far, but we are determined.”
“Then we’ll all come. We’ll all look for information,” Uriel said. Michael slowly moved closer to Gabriel. Michael probably wasn’t even aware he was doing it. But anytime Gabriel was in trouble, Michael hovered around him as if his physical presence could stop any harm coming to his older brother. He never spoke to Gabriel. Never gave his feelings away. But he displayed it in his own unique ways. “You’re not going into their fucked-up homes alone.”
Gabriel shook his head at Uriel. “It’s too risky. I’ll be quick and done before the clean-up comes in.” Gabriel hired black-market firms to clean up after Bara’s and Diel’s kills. The firms had no idea who hired them, and there was no trace back to the Fallen—such was the way in the murky, corrupt underworld that existed in parallel to normal people’s mundane existences.
“That’s dangerous, Angel,” Bara said. Michael reached for the vial of blood around his neck and began rocking on his feet.
“We’ll all go,” Sela said. “We’ll all look for leads.”
“I’m not risking you all,” Gabriel said, his voice sterner.
“And if you’re caught?” Raphael asked.
“Then Maria has instructions.” Gabriel looked at Diel, cutting off all conversation. “Get ready. We leave soon.”
Chapter 4
The van came to a stop, and it plunged into silence. Diel’s heavy breathing sounded like thunder in the small space. The collar hissed as Diel’s pulse began to rise. Gabriel turned in his seat, dressed in all black just like Diel—one with the night. “We’ll see you at the final house.” Gabriel lifted the remote for the collar from his pocket and began to turn it down. Second by second, Diel felt the voltage decrease, and an orgasmic shudder rolled through his bones.
As he cast one last look at Gabriel, Diel felt the collar click into silence. With an internal feral roar, the monster burst from its electric confinement and flooded Diel’s body, saturating his blood with pitch-black darkness.
Diel’s eyesight immediately cleared, and the sharp focus that came with the monster’s possession took control. He sighed in relief of surrendering to his evil and smiled as, with a burst of pure fury, he kicked open the back doors of the van, jumped onto the cold ground and rushed to the dark coverage of the nearby cluster of trees. Diel scanned his surroundings. He saw the old stone house that held the priest he was about to tear apart. It was dark and secluded, and his lip hooked up. He could make the priest scream, and no one would hear.
Making sure everything was clear, Diel burst from the trees and rushed toward the house. His breathing was quiet as stealth took the lead. He stopped beside the back door, slowly pushed the handle, and found it open. His monster stilled, suspicious of why the home was open in the dead of night.
Diel ducked inside the house, freezing as he listened for any signs of life. His heart slammed in excitement, and his blood soared through his veins like rapids. His monster curled his lips back at the silence. Then Diel’s head snapped up when he heard muffled sound. A wide grin plastered itself onto his face, and he made for the staircase.
Following the sound of quiet, distressed cries, he felt shivers trickle down his spine. The priest was scared. The fucking Brethren priest was pissing himself. Diel liked his victims best when they were terrified. Fear had a particular scent, an addictive taste that would burst on his tongue like the finest wine as the kill was executed.
He reached the door of the priest’s room and kicked it open with his heavy boot. Diel charged at the bed, knives ready in the waist of his pants. B
ut he stilled, his monster’s lust for death halted, when he saw the priest bound on the bed, a gag in his mouth. The fucker’s eyes were wide and locked on Diel. Diel studied his prey, his monster surveying what it had found. His gaze landed on the priest’s split lip and the “H” that had been smudged onto his forehead with blood.
The rage started as a flicker in Diel’s stomach. But like a wildfire catching on to dry and barren branches on a scorching day, the fury spread, igniting every muscle and cell into a raging inferno in his body.
Somebody had been there first. Somebody had come for his kill, his Brethren cunt that he was meant to fucking rip apart.
The priest began to thrash on the bed, trying to speak. Diel vibrated in anger—his prey had already been touched; someone had got to him first. Pathetically, they hadn’t killed him. They’d left him festering in his sin in the bed, bound like pig about to be gutted. Reaching for the knife in his pants, Diel sliced through the bonds tying the priest’s hands and feet and ripped the gag from his mouth.
“Thank you,” the priest rasped as he scrambled to his feet and stood on the other side of his bed. “Who the hell were those people?” He gagged on his words as the blood ran from his lip into his mouth. “The ones with the hoods? With most of their faces covered? Mercenaries? Burglars?”
Diel’s scalding rage only built as he stared at the fucker before him. He was one of them. He was a motherfucking Brethren, brother of Purgatory, Holy Innocents alumnus. Diel’s hands started to shake, and the monster extended its claws inside him, jaw opening and fanged teeth preparing to taste this prick’s blood. Mimicking the monster, Diel smiled, showing his teeth, his hands curling into claws. His muscles tensed like a bow as he readied to strike.
