Chapter 36 You’re Here Now #2
I never knew horses played until I came out to sit on the porch one morning in the first couple weeks, and caught them in the act. I don’t know why, but it moved me to tears.
“Yeah, they do.”
We’re both quiet for a while, each of us gazing out at the pasture as we sip our coffees, until she pipes up again.
“How the fuck did you end up here?”
“A tornado. Would you believe it?”
She chuckles, shaking her head.
“So you like it here? He’s good to you?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “Didn’t at first. Thought he was an asshole, but… he saved me. I know that what we’re doing is wrong, but—”
“The understatement of the fuckin’ century,” Wren snorts. “Do you even know how many people Preacher’s killed? He tell you that?”
I shake my head, trying to mentally count how many body parts I’ve seen in that freezer.
“Not really. I know it’s a lot, but—”
“It’s dozens, Rip. Before I left Raph, I told him they had to tone it down, that Preacher’s luck was gonna run out sooner rather than later. I just never thought I’d be around to see it.”
That old nausea returns, the same way it always does when I think about what’s coming.
Unfortunately, that’s been pretty much all I’ve been doing for the last day or so now: pulling pieces of my life off the shelf and analyzing them, trying to remember anything I can about Adonis that might help us.
But I’ve come up empty. All I remember is how much he unnerved me, and how every atom in my being screamed to run whenever we were in the same room.
“Did you ever think about killing Papa?”
Wren’s question comes out of nowhere, shocking me out from the midst of my spiral.
“Did you?”
I replied without even thinking, but it seems like she was expecting it, worrying her lip in consideration just like she used to do when we were kids. She used to chew off the dead skin until it bled, and mama would always grumble as she covered the bloody patches in olive oil.
“I guess I always dreamed about the house catching fire, and mama and I escaping while he burned to death inside. Or maybe one of those big semi trucks would hit him as he was driving home drunk from the bar.” She shrugs.
“But it seemed like no matter how hard I prayed, he just wouldn’t fucking die. ”
“At least he’s in jail.”
She shakes her head, her eyes suddenly much more distant.
“He got a slap on the wrist for those child porn charges; I guess he managed to talk his way out of some serious jail time. I haven’t seen or heard from him since, but he’s out there somewhere.”
“Does mama still talk to him?”
The thought makes my skin crawl, but I know from personal experience how easy it is to fall back into a terrible situation if it’s all you know. Maybe she was able to finally find the strength to—
“Mama’s dead, Ripley. Shot herself. On the day the cops showed up.”
For a second, it feels like all the air gets sucked out of my lungs, but it’s not from sadness, or grief. It’s more of a shock than anything else.
Maybe I didn’t love her enough.
Or at all.
“Shit.”
Our mother was something untouchable, never showing us affection except for the briefest moments when she’d braid our hair in the morning before school.
I don’t know if her icy demeanor was malicious or simply a byproduct of having been married to my father, but I never heard the words I love you from either of them growing up.
Wren nods, and the two of us stand in silence for a minute or two, not quite sure what to say. The whole thing is so fucked up, just like us I suppose.
“I guess it’s just you and me, then, huh?” I bump her on the shoulder. “So long as you’re ready to stop hating me.”
“I’m still mad at you, Rip. I mean how could I not be, have you ever even listened to yourself?
” There’s a moment there where I think it might be over, that she might just walk off for good, but then she chuckles, cracking me a warm smile.
“But no, I never hated you. How could I? I don’t think I ever really got to know you. ”
“I’m really sorry I left you,” I murmur. “I just wasn’t strong enough.”
“I know, I know, it’s fine, just… God this is so fucking awkward, can we just start over?” She sticks out her hand, tilting her head with a playful smirk. “Wren Monroe.”
“Ripley… Blackthorne.”
She raises a brow, her smile faltering ever so slightly.
“Blackthorne?”
I understand how awkward it probably sounds, but no matter how much I’d like it to mean more, it’s not about any of that. Preacher took me in, helped me change myself from what I was into what I was always meant to be:
A hunter, and a killer.
And that’s exactly what a Blackthorne is.
“Is that gonna be a problem?”
“No.” She takes my hand, shaking it gently.
“And I won’t pry, but no matter what the name means to you, I need you to know one thing: Every Blackthorne I’ve ever met has been…
obsessed with their work, over every other thing in their lives.
Those boys can’t spare an extra thought for anything or anyone that isn’t on their list of future corpses. ”
“Is that why you left Raphael?”
She sighs, leaning against a porch post, letting her head fall lazily back into the wood with a light thunk.
“He was paranoid. Obsessive. I’m pretty sure you could classify what we had as a polygamist marriage considering how much time he spent with that fuckin’ computer compared to me.
” I watch as a familiar sadness creeps into her eyes.
“And yeah, I was lonely, but I loved him. I kept trying to make new connections with him, find another way to break through, but I don’t think he ever really learned how to love.
To him, it’s about possession, nothing else.
At the end he didn’t even bat an eye when I packed my bags. ”
Wren’s hollow laughter is enough to make even my heart break a little, but it’s cut off by the sound of the back door swinging wide.
“We’re gonna lure him to the church,” Raphael announces, he and his brother stepping onto the porch as he taps a cigarette out of its pack. “Already got started setting everything up. Impressed?”
Wren’s eyes rake up and down his lean frame, sizing up the man she used to know so well.
“The church? That shit’s condemned, isn’t it?”
“We decided it’s best to keep him off the ranch, just in case he decides to bring in the cavalry,” Preacher cuts in, snaking an arm around my waist. “They’ll be making plans with the expectation this is where it’s all going down, so the change of venue’ll give us a little bit more room to blindside ‘em. Unfortunately, it means we’ll need you and those extra men you called to stand guard in unfamiliar territory. ”
Wren’s spine straightens, obviously bristling at the change, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know why.
The plan just keeps getting riskier and riskier by the minute, but I have to hope she’s got at least a sliver of loyalty or compassion left for Raphael.
She must, or she wouldn’t have picked up the phone in the first place.
“If you think that I’m just gonna—”
“Oh, don’t worry Wren, we’re throwing in a little extra. Let’s call it a fifty grand for your trouble.” Preacher grins. “I figure that’ll make up for the inconvenience? Raph’s idea, by the way.”
Raphael stammers, quickly running his hand through his hair as he stares at his feet, but Wren ignores him completely, clicking her tongue and extending her hand with a confident smirk.
“Looks like you’ve got yourself a deal, Blackthorne.”