“It’s the middle of the day,” Reuben says. “Someone could—”
“What?” I snap. “Ex-communicate me?” I glare at him from the bed where I’m sprawled on my back.
As part of my pious disguise, I took a room more befitting a first-year student than a teacher. That’s Zachary fucking Rutherford for you. Groveling would-be priest who couldn’t swat a fly.
I’m not scared of you.
But she sure fucking looked it. Trembling like a newly born foal. It had taken every atom of self-control I still possessed not to pin her to my desk exactly like in Cass’s drawing, and fuck her into submission.
Monsters breed monsters.
Rube shakes his head when I pass the joint to him after lighting it up.
“I insist,” I say, pushing the words through my teeth.
He could have argued. He might have won. Instead, he takes the joint, studies it, and hits it like a champ.
That’s what I love about Rube. He knows when to say yes, and when to say no.
That’s how he stayed sane with his Ghost. That evil motherfucker broke him over and over again. Eventually Rube stopped fighting. Every “no” turned into a “yes”. He taught himself to submit.
We’d all have been a lot better off if we hadn’t fought so hard. But then everyone except Cass would be as broken as him. Days like today I don’t know how Reuben can stand to look at himself in the mirror.
He hands back the joint without making eye contact.
“She won’t do it,” I tell him before taking a drag.
“Why?”
“Because sometime in the last twenty-four hours, she decided we’re full of shit and Gabriel’s a fucking saint.”
“She said that?”
“Pretty much.” I study the tip of the joint, and then move my focus to Rube’s face. He’s staring at nothing again—most convincingly. “He got in her head.”
Rube lets out a soft sigh through his nose before leaning back to dig in his pocket.
He exchanges a piece of mangled paper and his red rosary for the joint.
I read the note and then toy with the rosary while Rube helps himself to the rest of the joint.
She was lying to me. Not only is Gabriel not busy, he asked to see her tonight. I’m not sure I like this version of Trinity. It takes a special skill set to manipulate people with backbone. I don’t think I have the energy to play that game.
“Guess we should have seen it coming,” I say.
“So we’re back to Plan A?” Rube exhales a plume of smoke.
“Not yet.”
He looks across at me, frowning hard. “Then what?”
I wriggle my shoulders under me, pressing my head into my pillow. “I’ll go.”
“To see Gabriel?” Reuben sounds uneasy.
“She told me where he hid his laptop.”
“How will you get in?”
“I’ll figure out a way.” I wave my hand at him. “Leave it to Beaver.”
“Cass should go instead.” Rube should have taken my glare as a warning, but he just keeps going. “He’s got a reason to talk with Gabriel.”
“So do I.”
“Yeah, but—”
“He’s sacrificed enough.” Rube goes quiet, but I can sense he wants to say something. “What?”
“Cass. He was—”
“What, Rube?
But Reuben shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. You’re right—you should go.”
I frown at him. “What were you going to say?”
He turns to me, a faint smile on his mouth. “We’re getting close. Can you feel it?”
Is it the weed, or is he being weird on purpose? “Close to what?”
His smile inches up, but it doesn’t grow warmer. “To the end.”
I shove my hands under my neck and massage those suddenly tight muscles. “You excited or something?”
He takes a moment to consider. “Eager.”
“For vengeance?”
His dark eyes latch onto mine. “You know what you’ll have to do?”
I blink, thrown by his sudden change in direction. “What, tonight?”
He nods.
Yeah, I fucking know. I’ll have to do whatever it takes. Just like Cass.
“Like you said, we’re getting close. Can’t fuck it up now, can we?”
He grabs my ankle and squeezes. I wince, but the pain I feel is ephemeral. He keeps his thumb there, digging into the sensitive spot behind my Achilles tendon. It doesn’t seem intentional, but I learned a long time ago that Reuben does everything for a reason. He puts other psychopaths to shame.
“Then do whatever it takes, brother, and let’s finish this.”
Gabriel’s door is open. I stand in the hallway for a moment, my face slack and my body non-responsive no matter how hard I try to force it to move forward.
He knows you’re coming. No need to postpone the inevitable.
I wrap my hands over my chest, grabbing my elbows as I step inside. No use going in like a warrior in a battle charge—I must be the epitome of calm-as-fuck Brother Zachary. I can’t let my mask slip for even a second.
Not like it did last night with Cass.
I broke him.
But he’s still alive.
For nothing.
We don’t know that.
Shut the fuck up!
The argument in my head ceases. For now.
Let’s get this over with.
I announce myself with a weak, “Father?” as I step through the antechamber and into his apartment proper.
I’ve only been here once before, and then too briefly to remember much. The fire is lit but smoking heavily, as if the logs he put on were damp.
The laptop isn’t under the bed like Trinity said it would be. It’s right in front of Father Gabriel on the four-seater dining table.
White light bathes his face and reflects off a pair of glasses I’ve never seen him wear. I know I didn’t make a sound getting here, but as if he senses my presence, he looks up from the screen.
The jolt he gives when he sees me couldn’t have been faked and suddenly I’m questioning every fucking thing that’s led me to this point.
“Son,” he says, hurriedly taking off his glasses and standing as he closes the laptop lid. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”
Son?
I suppress a disgusted snarl before it can reach my lips. “It was open.” And then I add a belated, “Sorry, I should have knocked.”
“No, no.” Gabriel moves around the table, lifting his hands. “It’s perfectly fine. I was just…” He looks toward the fire. “Is it too warm? I thought with the rain it would be colder tonight.”
He’s wearing a t-shirt and jeans. With his glasses off, he could have been in his late thirties.
Keeps himself buff for a priest. Vain much, Father?
My eyes narrow as I study his back. What fucking game is he playing, pretending at some saintly priest who needs glasses to read and gets so easily caught up in his work he wouldn’t notice the knife plunging into his neck until it was too late?
Now I’m wishing I had a knife on me. Wishing I’d crept up behind him and used it.
But I could never forgive myself for doing such a selfish thing. My brothers deserve to take his life as much as I do.