by Cole, Tillie
Naomi’s body was statue-still when her eyes met Bara’s. She clutched her bag to her chest like a shield. He unnerved her; that much was clear. But then Bara took her hand and, looking her dead in the eyes, said, “Thank you, fire witch.” There was no smirk on his face, nothing disturbing in his green gaze. “You gave my brother his past back.”
Naomi exhaled a shuddering breath at Bara’s obvious honesty, and she lowered her head, silently accepting his gratitude. It took a few seconds for Bara to let go of her hand.
Bara went to stand next to Uriel and Michael. Uriel was frowning at Bara, but he didn’t say a word.
Dinah released a loud sigh. “I fucking hate those pricks.”
“He has a sister,” Sela said. As the brother closest to Diel, Gabriel could see that the revelation of who Diel was, the fact that Diel had a sister who was abducted too, was hitting him hard. Sela looked at Gabriel. “His fucking voice as he talked us through what he was seeing.” Sela grew stone-faced. “The fucking pain in his voice when he realized that starving kid was him. When he realized Cara was his own flesh and blood.”
“That bitch let her go blind,” Uriel said, the fading light in the room reflecting off the piercings in his body. “Her own fucking mother let her go blind in one eye, hid her away because she had what sounds like a fucking port-wine birthmark?” Uriel vibrated with untapped violence. “And what the fuck would the Brethren do with her? Why the hell did they think she was evil too? She didn’t hurt anyone. She was fucking neglected, abused.”
“We’ve only scratched the surface of them,” Jo said. “The Brethren have been doing this for years. Taking vulnerable people, people they believe are sinners, from their everyday lives. Yet in all this time, out of all the people they have abducted, we’ve only just found each other. Fourteen of us including Priscilla. That’s all we know of.”
Candace watched her girlfriend’s obvious exasperation and added, “Who the hell knows what else they have punished others for, or even if there are other groups in the world who have the same mission as we do.”
“We fucking know nothing.” Raphael squeezed the string around his finger so tightly that his finger turned deep purple. “Do we?” he said to Gabriel. “We know nothing about them. Not really.”
Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose. Raphael was right. They didn’t. “Then we must learn,” Gabriel said. “Somehow, we must learn more. We must become academics on the subject.”
“Are we still on for Friday?” Sela said. His arms were crossed over his chest, and Gabriel knew that was to keep composure, keep from letting his wrath loose.
Gabriel met Dinah’s eyes. She nodded. “We’re ready,” she said. “More than.”
“Then yes.” He felt the tug of his cilice biting into his thigh. Gabriel was sanctioning death. Encouraging his brothers to kill. The flicker of grace he still possessed was draining from him like sand from an hourglass. With every agreement to go after the Brethren, he feared he was losing more and more of himself.
But he’d do it. He’d happily sacrifice himself for his family. He ate their sins. He took their deficiencies from his own flesh. He just had to endure a little more pain.
Gabriel nodded at his family. “Then Friday, we launch our first attack.” His brothers practically vibrated with delirium. This was their calling; murder was what sang to their souls.
Gabriel couldn’t be in the room any longer. He could feel his faithful resolve dying, feel the devil’s hot breath on the back of his neck. It had always been his biggest personal battle—weighing his pacifist beliefs against his brothers, who took the utmost pleasure in ridding people of their lives. And although they had only killed people who hurt others, people that it could be argued “deserved it,” Gabriel knew that for most of his brothers, when their innate need to kill became too much, whether a person deserved it or not wouldn’t even be a factor.
“Rest,” Gabriel said to the Fallen and the Coven, forcing a soothing smile, being the older brother they needed. “Prepare.”
He nodded at them in goodbye, then left the room, going straight down the stairs and outside into one of the waiting cars. He drove through the grounds until he reached the groundskeeper’s cottage they had been renovating for weeks now. When he walked through the front door, he smelled freshly cut wood, and new paint on the walls. As always, he had been using his grandfather’s network of discreet organizations to do the work.
Gabriel cast his eyes around the newly laid floors, the vast industrial kitchen, and the many tables that could seat dozens of people.
This would be his penance. A safe house for children rescued from the Brethren. The orphanage that Holy Innocents should have been. A refuge for broken souls. A safe place to save them from themselves, from the anger that would no doubt live inside them.
Gabriel may be damned, but he would see others saved. He would battle the Brethren in his own way. He would see their so-called sinners survive.
He would see them thrive.
Gabriel hadn’t heard another car pulling up to the house. He hadn’t heard the front door opening, but suddenly, Maria was beside him. She took a few steps forward into the hallway, surveying the open-plan design. She nodded as she looked around the vast space. “This will work nicely.” She ran her hand over the newly carved banister of the sweeping central staircase.
Maria turned and regarded Gabriel empathetically. “I know you love your brothers more than anything else in the world. You want nothing but happiness in their lives.” She came to stand before him, smiling sadly. “But more pain will be uncovered. More tragedies will be unearthed within our family.” She sighed, and Gabriel knew she felt what he felt too. The Fallen had become her brothers too. She was one of them. Raphael’s soulmate, and to the rest of them their beloved sister. “Many of them are still closed off. They have much growing to do, much soul-searching to go through.”
Gabriel nodded. She was right. He wished it wasn’t so. But he knew it was true. He just wished he could protect them all from it.
“War is hard,” he rasped, clutching his treasured rosary. He had been gripping it so tightly through Diel’s regression session that the beads had left angry red imprints on his palm.
Maria laid her hand on his arm. The physical contact felt good. Comforting. Sometimes Gabriel wondered if his life devoted to God, to being celibate and alone, was the right decision. He saw the impenetrable bond between Raphael and Maria, the happiness, the peace that eros brought them. And Diel … he would never have believed that Diel would be where he was now, no matter how broken he was after today’s revelations. In love, because he was. He didn’t know if Diel recognized that, but the way he looked at Noa screamed it to be true.
A floorboard creaked behind them. Maria looked over Gabriel’s shoulder and smiled. Gabriel turned and saw Raphael waiting in the doorway. He held a rose in his hand, turning the stem in slow circles, a small smile on his face. Maria made a move toward her lover, but she stopped beside Gabriel and said, “There is a widely held belief in modern theology that Jesus was actually married to Mary Magdalene.” She laughed gently. “I’m sure you know that, as well read as you are.”
Gabriel’s heart beat faster at that. He wasn’t sure why. He nodded. He had read several arguments for the theory. Maria shrugged. “If that were true, it would make the need for priests to be celibate and unmarried to another person moot, no? It could perhaps allow them not to be so lonely. Perhaps allow them to fall in love, to be happy.” Maria kissed Gabriel’s cheek. She was the sister he’d never had. She had become his best friend.
Gabriel watched as Maria went to Raphael. His brother’s handsome face lit up when she sank into his arms as if Raphael’s hold had been made just for her. Raphael kissed her lips, then tucked the rose behind her ear, and together they made their way outside.
Gabriel remained staring at that doorway for quite some time after they had left, Maria’s parting words still circling around his head.
Chapter 20
>
Noa tightened her belt and moved her hood into place. She didn’t pull the scarf over her nose and mouth; she would do that in the van before they arrived at the Brethren meeting.
She stared back at herself in the mirror. It had been too long since she had donned this hood. Excitement pulsed through her, an electronic dance beat energizing her body to fight. She strapped her knives to her belt, left her room, and joined her sisters in the kitchen.
“Like old times,” Dinah said, catching Noa’s nostalgic smirk.
Noa looked at her sisters. “Only one witch missing.”
“Do you think she’d come back, now that we’re with the Fallen? Now that our objective is to fight the Brethren head on like she always wanted?” Beth asked.
Priscilla. The sister Noa wished would return home.
“She could be exactly who she wants to be,” Candace said.
“Have you called her lately?” Dinah asked Noa.
Noa nodded. “Left a voicemail on her burner cell as always.” She took a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and downed its contents. “She knows everything. I told her what we were doing, planning. I told her about the Fallen brotherhood, how they had become our allies … and for me, more.” Noa’s thoughts strayed to Diel. Her heart fell. His regression therapy haunted her, his broken voice as he walked them all through what he was seeing. His godawful childhood …
Noa cleared her throat and put a halt to the eager wash of darkness surging through her body. She was saving that wickedness for tonight. Because Noa would be joining the Fallen. She would be spilling blood. She would be cutting those fuckers down where they stood for all the crimes they had committed against her sisters, against her, against Diel.
Dinah flicked her chin at her sisters. “Let’s go, ladies.”
The Coven cut through the underground tunnel to the main house. When they entered the hallway, the Fallen were already there. Dinah whistled low as they came into view. The brothers turned. They were in leather too, shirts and pants tailored for their male physiques. But they shared the same hoods and face coverings as the Coven, the same black leather gloves.
“Looking good, guys,” Dinah said.
“Oh, we know, head witch,” Bara retorted, eyebrows dancing. A disturbing flicker of evil shone proudly in his eyes, his green irises seeming brighter than usual.
Noa cast her attention over the Fallen, her sisters. Tonight, the Brethren would have no idea who they were, who knew exactly what secret sect lived under the cover of the wider Catholic Church. Who planned to destroy them.
The key to their attacks was anonymity. No one could see their faces. Their attacks must be done in such a way that they couldn’t be traced.
Noa’s eyes found Diel standing beside Sela. Like the Coven, the Fallen had yet to cover their faces. Heat spread through Noa at the sight of him in leather. Diel’s eyes were alert and focused, full of energy for their upcoming kills.
Noa sauntered toward him; he watched her every step. He rarely took his attention from her these days. Diel reached for her, threaded his arm around her waist and pulled her against his chest. He crushed his mouth to hers.
When he withdrew, Noa pressed her hand to his stubbled cheek. “Hello, pretty monster.” She traced her finger down his leather-covered chest and further down. He grunted when the tip of her finger brushed over his cock. “I like you in leather.”
Noa could feel the kinetic energy bouncing among the Fallen. Her mind drifted back to Priscilla. It used to be how they both felt before a kill. Priscilla would live for moments this. She would thrive here, among people with the same murderous preferences as hers.
Maria came out of the office. “The van is ready.” Her chin was tilted up, but Noa could tell she was nervous for them. Her eyes kept drifting back to Raphael. Maria would be staying at the manor. She was an integral part of the Fallen’s life, but her place wasn’t in the attacks. She was smart and sharp-minded. Her talents lay in the academic realm—the planning, the day-to-day scheduling of their lives.
Raphael walked toward Maria and took her into his embrace. “We’ll be back soon, little rose.”
“I know you will,” she whispered, betraying the nerves that were clearly shaking her to the bone. Raphael slung his arm around her neck and faced the Coven and Fallen. His mouth drifted to her ear, no doubt assuring her of his safety.
Dinah broke from the group as silence fell. Gabriel moved beside her. The Fallen’s leader’s face showed no emotion. Dinah took a deep breath. “You know what to do,” she said. “We stick together until it’s safe to get the children out. From what we know of these meetings, they’ll have children present—‘sinners’ there to ritually break.”
Gabriel nodded. “We also gather as much of their literature as we can. Anything we can find—focus on altars, pulpits, those type of places.” Gabriel pointed his thumb at Dinah. “From what we’ve researched, these meetings are localized—only Brethren from the district will be present. Hopefully, with our training, we should be able to take them.”
“I’ve got my flame thrower,” Bara said, a smirk stretching on his red lips. “I think we’ll be okay.”
“And we all know that when it comes to the Brethren, we can never take anything as gospel,” Gabriel replied. “We can’t be arrogant about our skills. We know from our sisters here that they are highly trained too. Worse,” he said solemnly. “They are brainwashed and will do anything to defend their cause.”
“We go in. We get the kids out. And …” Dinah said.
“We then tear the cunts apart.” Uriel pointed at his brothers, then at Noa.
A clanging noise sounded to Noa’s left. Michael had pulled a piece of string with several vials attached from his pocket. The sound had been his intricately carved metal claw rings tapping on the glass. The tips were as sharp as any blade—they could easily sink into arteries. Michael licked his lips, his tongue running over teeth that he’d had shaven into sharp fangs. Michael must have felt her watching, as his eyes snapped up to hers.
Out of all the brothers, Michael was the most difficult for Noa to read. His expression was always blank, as if he wasn’t present in the real world. But she suspected Michael saw everything, tracked every movement anyone made. That made him one of the most unnerving opponents. He could never be successfully studied. An enemy would never be able to predict his next move.
“Let’s roll out,” Dinah said. Taking Noa’s hand, Diel led them from the manor into the waiting van. It was blacked out, its engine silent. Even when the Fallen and the Coven had piled into the back, there was room left over. If everything went to plan tonight, they would be bringing back the Brethren’s sacrificial children with them.
Noa gave Maria a nod as she closed the van doors behind them. Maria’s worried gaze ran over them all, stalling a fraction too long on Raphael. Then they were on the move.
Noa checked the knives in her belt. Bara, true to his word, had a flame thrower strapped to his back. They were loaded with an array of weapons—knives, guns with silencers, chains, bladed knuckledusters, and of course, Michael’s devastatingly brutal claws over his leather gloves.
“We stay as a unit as practiced,” Dinah said. “Listen for my commands. From the ledger we know there should be no more than fifty here tonight, and that’s being generous.”
Noa stared down at Diel’s hand wrapped in her own. His gaze was on the floor of the van. The cords in his neck were taut, and Noa didn’t have to be a psychic to know what was running through his head. His severe head tics and heavy blinks told her that he was thinking of Finn Nolan, the little boy he used to be. He was thinking of Cara, the sister he didn’t know the location of. Noa’s stomach sank. They didn’t even know if she was alive.
Noa squeezed Diel’s hand. He looked right at her. She expected to see rage and wrath blaring in his eyes. But the look of sheer sadness was almost her undoing. In the days since the regression, he had grown more and more forlorn, as if the reality of what he went through, wh
at the Brethren took from him, was wrapping around his heart, barbed claws sinking in deep and refusing to let go.
Noa brought their gloved hands to her mouth and kissed each of his fingers. She held them to her chest and said, “We make these fuckers scream. We make them pay for what they’ve done.” The sorrow on Diel’s handsome face gave way to sadistic excitement. It didn’t stop Noa’s heart from shattering. She was a loyal person. When she loved someone, she would do anything for them. And she wouldn’t stop until whatever plagued them was rectified.
Noa had to find Cara. And if she couldn’t, she would make those responsible pay—slowly, painfully. A red mist descended over her eyes.
She had never been so excited to kill in all her life.
Noa could still hear Diel’s broken voice in her head, the voice of the man watching his life play out like a movie in his mind. And it was a tragedy. No part of it was light or hopeful in any way.
“When the priests have been … apprehended,” Gabriel said, his voice tightening on the last word, “we get back to the van as quickly as possible. We don’t want any mistakes that will get one or more of us caught.”
Everybody nodded their heads.
The rest of the journey passed by in heavy silence. Even Bara stayed quiet, the prospect of killing clearly keeping his sarcasm in check. The van stopped, and Gabriel’s driver tapped on the partition to let them know the coast was clear.
They were to enter through the secret tunnel system that the Coven knew all too well. Years of living underground, staying out of sight, had made the Coven privy to what many would never know—that a large percentage of Massachusetts boasted a labyrinth of tunnel systems created by War of Independence spies.
The Brethren meeting was being held at an abandoned barn deep in the fields of an old Catholic priests’ retirement home. It was a surrounded by cluster of trees, boulders of rock, and scrubland. It was a perfectly blended mixture of rolling green pastures and rough terrain. And below ground, those very tunnels that the Coven had used exclusively as their own secret refuge over the years.
