“I said, get up.” He presses the muzzle of his gun so hard against Apollo’s ear that my brother’s head tilts to the side.
“N-No,” I manage. “If I do, then she’ll die.”
“If you don’t, then he dies.”
Apollo’s holding tight to the arm slung around his upper chest. His eyes are closed, but I really wish they were open so I could at least have a chance of communicating with him.
It’s pointless, though.
He’s not a fighter like us. He’s the thinker. The philosopher. A true hippy who believes violence is never the answer.
Bet he’s regretting some of his life choices now.
“You always a dick to strangers?” I ask him as I furiously try to think of a way out of this.
Could shoot him, of course. There’s a gun on the floor. The dead woman must have dropped it there. But I can’t move that far or Trinity will bleed out. Plus, Mr. Vain looks trigger happy enough to shoot me if I so much as fart without his permission.
My comment curls up his lips ever so slightly. And God, that pseudo-smile makes my blood run ice-cold.
“You don’t know who I am?” He shifts his grip on Apollo, grabbing a fistful of his hair instead of the chokehold. He turns my brother’s head to the side so he can stare at Apollo’s face. “Trevor recognized me.”
A shudder goes through Apollo.
No.
It can’t be.
If this guy was involved with our captivity ten years ago, I would have remembered him. Which means he must be a new player in this fucked up game, but who? Is he Gabriel’s replacement?
But doesn’t matter. Whoever he is, he’s about to kill one, if not all, of the people in this room.
Where the fuck are Rube and Zach?
Rube went into the hall looking for Apollo so he could get the address…
I lock eyes with the new Guardian. And it’s as if he reads my motherfucking mind. I barely open my mouth before he turns and slams the door shut behind him.
But the lock’s busted, so it pops open again just an inch.
“Rube! Zach! Help!” My throat burns how I yell, but fuck knows if they can hear me.
Pointless. They’re already dead, Trinity says.
Christ, not now, babe. Please, not now.
Okay, fine, she says. They’re alive. They’re just busy, right? Jerking off somewhere, having a puff, taking a dump.
She’s got a mouth on her, this one. I’ll have to take her to task for it when we get out of this jam.
The Guardian sees the problem with the door the moment I do, though.
And that, finally, is when Apollo’s balls decide to drop. Most of us had that happen during puberty. Nope…not him.
He slams his elbow into the Guardian’s stomach.
Which, sadly, doesn’t do much. It just makes the guy grimace and then pistol-whip him so hard he goes down like someone pulled the plug.
“Fuck you, you shit-eating cunt!” I yell.
The Guardian doesn’t even look in my direction. I guess he’s established I’m not going anywhere.
He walks over and picks up the chair by the dresser and jams it under the door handle.
Literally a second before something big and angry slams into it on the other side.
Fuck, we both get a fright.
The Guardian steps back, gun raised, and points it at the door.
He pulls the trigger. The shot goes off. A hole appears like magic in the center of the door.
Right where Rube’s chest would have been.
The assault against the door stops. There’s a heavy thump outside.
Not unlike a big body hitting the floor.
I’m starting to lose grip on reality. The world is shifting ever so slightly, like a roller coaster ride just starting up.
I look down at Trinity’s ashen face. I don’t know if she’s still alive. I press my fingers to the artery on the side of her neck, but I can’t feel anything.
“Get off her.” The Guardian is closer now.
“Might as well shoot me,” I tell him as I drop my head and look at him over the point of my shoulder. “Because that’s the only way it’s happening, you cunt.”
“Hmm.” He takes another step closer. “Sebastian, isn’t it?”
The ground drops out beneath me. I shake my head, leaning back, trying to get away without taking my weight off Trinity’s chest.
“Yes, that’s right.” The Guardian tilts his head a little, and his voice becomes husky. “I remember you. You were the little junkie.”
He lifts his free hand, swipes it down in front of his face like mimes do. Happy/Sad. But his expression doesn’t change except to become…hungrier.
“Always doped up,” he says. “I’m not surprised you don’t remember me.”
“Guessing you had an uglier face back then,” I tell him, but there’s no strength in my voice.
Don’t listen to him.
It doesn’t matter.
All that matter is keeping—
“Not at all. But I had to change. You understand.”
And then I do. Like a fucking lightning bolt hits my brain and implants the information there.
I look down at the dead body I’m leaning my knee on. Then up at him. “I don’t see the resemblance.”
He laughs and comes a little closer, but still too far away for me to attempt anything. “Why would you?” he asks, and then runs his hand through his hair like he’s putting on the charm.
I want to throw up those fish tacos I ate seven weeks ago.
“She’s not my daughter.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Right. She’s Gabriel’s. Guess she got her mom’s good looks then.”
Something touches his expression then. The faintest micro-movement around his eyes. A twitch of his lips.
“It was their idea, calling her Trinity,” he says. His voice sounds a touch hollow now. “They thought we’d all raise her. The three of us.”
His eyes hadn’t exactly been cheery before, but they’re dead cold now. He glances down at Trinity’s body, then back up at me. “Monica would have aborted her like the others, but then that prick interfered.”
As if my earlier revelation had taken up every bit of computing power, my brain fails to comprehend what he’s saying.
The Guardian looks at Trinity again. “Her father was a pain in the ass, but he worshiped me. Do you have any idea the things people will do if they think you’re a God amongst men?”
I open my mouth to say something brutal, but then there’s a gun in my face. “It was rhetorical, Sebastian.”
As his finger curls around the trigger, a distant wail catches both our attention.
Ambulance.
Police siren.
And that’s not the only thing I notice. Apollo is picking himself up off the floor.
When the Guardian looks back at me, I show him my teeth. “Think you can get out of here in time?” I ask him.
His eyes narrow. He straightens the gun. His lips part, a particularly malicious gleam in his eyes as he starts to speak.
And then Apollo hits him over the head with the chair he quietly took out from under the door handle. When Keith Malone crumples to the ground, my body sags as if it wants to follow.
But I grit my teeth, gather saliva, and spit it on his slack face. “That was rhetorical, you sick fuck.”