Chapter 5
ALEXEI
“If you want this, you’ll have to do things you won’t enjoy. Things you may find repulsive.”
Preston’s words have haunted me since I first reviewed the photos I captured from the Saints’ notebook.
He warned me, and I’ve walked in on them enough times in the middle of one of their rituals to know what they’ve had to subject themselves to.
But it was easy to agree when I didn’t know the extent of what I was signing up for.
Now it’s staring me in the face, the sequence of events I have to get through, how involved the process is. I can’t help wondering if that’s one of the reasons Preston keeps putting it off.
As if seeing these pages isn’t bad enough, I know Matteo looked at them too.
I’ve seen him around our floor at the dorms and around campus since Sunday night, and he’ll look at me, but we won’t talk.
He must think I’ve lost my mind. That this is all nonsense.
And maybe that’s better than knowing the truth.
Although, it sucks. I’ve enjoyed the time we’ve spent together. Even just goofing around at Malcom’s was nice. It’s too bad because, if not for this, maybe we could have been friends.
On Wednesday after classes, I find a voice mail from Dad, so when I get back to my dorm room, I return his call.
“Hey, buddy,” he answers as I plop down on my bed. “How’s your week going?”
“Eh…tough.”
“You’ve had a few tough weeks recently.”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
Just like he doesn’t realize I’m lucky to even be alive after that night in the woods with that creature.
“What’s that mean?” he presses.
It’s a fair question, but one I can’t answer. “Only that I don’t know that they’re gonna get any easier anytime soon.”
Stop being so bleak, or he’s gonna pry. But it’s a struggle, especially talking to him, because a part of me just wants to blurt it all out, tell him what I’ve been involved with, why I’ve been involved. But if I said anything, I doubt he’d feel much differently than Matteo.
As we catch up about our week, I tell myself I’m not gonna bring Nick up. That there’s no reason to. But I can’t help myself. Now that I have my hands on something that might help me learn the truth, it’s all that’s on my mind. “Been thinking a lot about Nick recently.”
He quiets.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No, Alexei, I don’t want you to feel like you can’t bring Nick up. Ever. He brought so much joy into our lives, and it’s nice to remember those times.”
“Brought.” I didn’t even mean to call him out on using the past tense; it just came out.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did,” I mutter as the tears well in my eyes.
“I’m sorry, Alexei.”
But I know he’s not sorry for how he worded it, just for how it’s affecting me.
A cruel pain sits in my gut, a knife steadily twisting. All those signs we posted. All the posts we updated online with different photos. Hoping…wishing for answers.
“No, I understand,” I say. “I know I’ve been an ass about that in the past. Some days I think it’d be easier to tell myself he’s gone, but I can’t, Dad. He wouldn’t ever give up on me. Not unless he knew for sure there wasn’t a chance of finding me.”
“That’s true,” Dad says.
A tear slides down my cheek, and I sniffle. Fuck, I hate myself for making the sound because I know Dad heard me.
“Alexei—”
“So what does Mom want for her birthday?” I push out to change the subject.
Dad must know it’s a bullshit thing because her birthday isn’t until March.
“Have you seen that therapist again?” he asks, unwilling to go along with my redirect.
Fuck, no. Every time I chat with her, it feels like she’s manipulating me to accept the unacceptable. That he’s gone. Forever.
“Nah,” I force out. “But maybe I’ll shoot her an email and set up an appointment.”
Another lie. I’ve told so many fucking lies recently that I’m starting to think maybe a liar is all I am. I try to stifle my pain.
Dad says, “Well, your mom really wants a hot tub, so you might have that to look forward to when you get home.”
“Oh, really?”
“An inflatable one. We didn’t suddenly win the lottery. I’m sure a lot of your new friends have real ones.”
“Whatever. She’ll love that.” A smile tugs at my lips because it reminds me of how Dad was when I was growing up.
How we always made do with what we had. But sadly, even that brings up more memories with Nick.
During the holidays, opening one of our many Christmas presents—most likely purchased at garage sales and thrift stores, but we didn’t care or know any better.
We were just excited to share them with each other.
Funny how even an attempt to change the subject still leads me back to him.
Feels like everything does. “Maybe there’s a hot-tub accessory I can grab for her,” I say, still fighting back the tears.
Fuck, I’m about to lose it. “You know what, Dad, I have a bit of work to do. Kind of got behind by hanging with some friends over the weekend. You mind if I call you later?”
“Of course. I’m glad to hear you’re spending time with friends. Give me a call when you can. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
It’s the sort of thing we make sure to say because we never know when we might not see each other again.
After I hang up, I’m all teary-eyed, knotted up with tension. I grab my bag and head to the library.
I wasn’t lying to him when I said I needed to catch up on schoolwork.
Between spying on the Sinners and my own mission with Matteo, I’m behind.
But instead of working, I sit at a desk along the wall on the third floor for about an hour with my Brit Lit textbook open, my laptop screen with the images from the Saints’ notebook pulled up.
My chat with Dad reminded me how important this is.
In my periphery, I notice someone moving toward me, and I quickly close my laptop.
“Relax, it’s just me.” Matteo stops beside me. He’s got a five-o’clock shadow and bags under his eyes. The guy can even make those bags look sexy. And the way he’s looking at me, I figure I’m the reason he’s got them. “Got a minute to talk?”
I turn back to my work. “I don’t know that we have anything to talk about.”
“Please, man.”
A part of me wishes he’d ignored me, as though I were some kind of weirdo.
But another part is relieved we’re talking again.
We head to a study room, where we’ll have more privacy.
I set my bag in one of the chairs at the table that takes up most of the space.
I stay on my feet as Matteo pulls out a chair and sits.
Not for the first time since we’ve known each other, an uncomfortable silence lingers in the air. Along with the facial hair and the bags under his eyes, his hair’s messy, like he’s been running his fingers through it.
“I like the scruffy look,” I tell him, since I must admit, it’s kinda sexy.
He glares at me, then looks away, so I ask the obvious question: “How did you know I’d be here?”
“I was already doing some research, and I’ve seen that’s your spot, so I checked to see if you were there.”
He noticed that’s my spot? That shouldn’t excite me, but for some reason it does. Probably because a part of me wishes we could be friends.
We’re back to uncomfortable silence, and I’d rather just talk through it, so I say the first thing that comes to mind. “You gonna join us for the pickup game tomorrow?”
“Alexei, I’m trying to figure out how to deal with this. I don’t want to push or pry. I sure as fuck don’t know that I’m handling this the right way, but I’m really worried about you.”
“That a no for the game?”
He pushes to his feet and approaches me. “Look, I’ve been reading about this kind of stuff. And whatever they’ve asked you to do, you don’t owe them shit. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
I figured he’d be asking questions about what he saw in the notebook, but sounds like he’s more concerned about the Saints.
“Huh?” is the most I can say, and he moves closer.
“You’re not the only person this kind of thing has happened to. It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
As he approaches, I take a few steps back, until my shoulder blades are against the whiteboard behind me. “Matteo, what the hell are you on about?”
He takes a deep breath. “I think you’re in some kind of sex cult.”
“What?” I can’t disguise my shock.
“Fuck, I wasn’t supposed to say cult. That’s one of the big pieces of advice I saw online.
But come on. You have to see it, Alexei.
I don’t know what they said to you. Or how they convinced you.
But hell, people have been convinced of weirder shit.
Like…stuff you wouldn’t believe. Aliens, ghosts, supernatural powers… you name it, there’s a cult around it.”
I was expecting a lot of things—that he’d tell me this was wild or ridiculous, stupid, even.
This wasn’t an angle I’d considered, though now that he’s confronting me about it, I can see where he’s made the connections: Creepy frat group.
Spells and rituals. My desperation to get my hands on what he perceives to be a holy book.
“I’m not in a cult,” I assure him.
He closes his eyes, taking a breath. “I know this probably won’t help, but you know what people in cults often say…”
“Matteo, is this what you’ve been researching?”
“Yes. For the past few days. I sent an email out to a group about resources to help you out. You’re not alone.”
As annoyed as I am, I must admit it’s pretty fucking admirable that he’s willing to stage a cult intervention with me, someone he doesn’t even know that well. Even if he’s totally on the wrong track, he’s a good guy.
He runs his fingers through his bangs. “Maybe this was the wrong way to go about this. Maybe I should have gone straight to your family, but…”
A jolt of adrenaline pulses through me. “What? Matteo, no, you can’t tell them about this.”
“No, no. I’m not. When I saw those pages, I knew that would be horribly violating to share without your consent. I couldn’t do that to you.”