30. Zach
Chapter 30
Zach
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
I try to ignore my pounding heart, but it fills every inch of my awareness.
Calm down.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
At best, I’d considered Trinity just another poor soul who’d somehow managed to get a ticket on the worst ride boarding schools in West Virginia offered. At worst, she was one of those crazy-eyed lackeys who follow Gabriel around like they couldn’t wait for their cup of blue Kool Aid.
It had never crossed my mind that she knew him.
Not as the provost of Saint Amos, or the ex-bishop of Redmond.
That she knew him .
The horrific twisted demon possessing his corrupted body. A sinister entity we’d finally tracked down after years of searching.
She knew the Guardian .
Reuben brought her a blanket. He even tucked her in while I finished the blunt. Cassius immediately started rolling another joint. I had another shot of whiskey. That, with the weed, pushed my savage fury down to a level where I could communicate again.
“Why did you come to Saint Amos?” I ask.
Trinity glances up at me, eyes widening. “I didn’t have anywhere else to?—“
“Why?”
“My parents. They’re—they were killed in a car accident.”
“When?”
“About a month ago.” Her eyes are bright, but no tears. Is she lying? Wouldn’t make any sense if she was.
Rube takes the seat beside her. Framed between him and Cassius, her feet not touching the ground and her hair drying into wild curls, she looks like a little doll.
Cassius lights the blunt this time, takes a pull, and holds it out for her. She glances across at him and then down at the hands in her lap. The cuffs left bright red welts on her fair skin. I try not to look at them.
“This isn’t me being polite,” Cassius says.
“I don’t want any.”
“I could give a shit,” he says, turning to her and leaning in. “Smoke it.”
We know how this works. We’ve done it many times before.
It makes me sick to think of the things we’ve done to get to this point. Trinity should be on her knees thanking God we’ve already figured out torture isn’t as effective as the more subtle means of interrogation.
The weed will make her chatty. The alcohol will make it more difficult for her to lie. Plus, it reduces her flight risk. Trinity takes the blunt from him and hesitantly takes a drag. Then another. She coughs, hard, and tries to give the blunt back. Cassius grabs her wrist and forces the filter against her mouth. “One more.” When she complies, he murmurs, “Such a good little girl,” into her ear.
She swoons when she sits back, and our eyes lock through a haze of dank smoke.
“Gabriel’s been here for years,” I tell her.
She nods, and then shrugs. “I didn’t have anywhere—anyone else.”
“What about foster care?”
“I almost had to.” She nods a few times. “Because I couldn’t get hold of him. But then he finally got back to me.” She lifts limp hands and drops them again. “Brought me here.”
“How long was he your priest for?” Cass asks.
She leans to the side, studying him for a moment, and then hurriedly straightens when this brings her into contact with Rube’s shoulder. He’s watching her as intently as I am. He looks like a fucking psychopath—hands on his thighs, back straight.
He tucks a stray corner of the blanket under her leg.
“Ten, twelve years?” She cringes away from Rube as if she wants to burrow into the stuffing. “I’m not sure. Maybe longer.”
“When did you first join his church?”
“Gabriel’s—?” She breaks off and frowns, shaking her head. “Maybe eight years ago?”
I glare at her. “You said you knew him for ten years.”
“Or twelve,” Cassius supplies unhelpfully.
She shrugs. “He was friends with my dad for a while before we moved to Redmond. That’s when we joined his church.” She slumps a little. “What is this all about? Why do you?—?”
“Pour her another drink.”
I wasn’t even looking at him, but it’s Rube who stands to fulfill my order. Trinity waves a limp hand.
“I really don’t want?—”
My eyes slide to Cass. “Tell Apollo to search her room. Make sure she’s not hiding anything.”
Cassius is on his feet in a second, loping to the exit like a panther that’s finally spotted something to pounce on.
“Hey!” Trinity sits forward, her tits bouncing behind that pathetic film of a vest. “You can’t do that!”
“We can do whatever the fuck we want,” I growl.
She stands in a rush and charges after Cassius, and I’m less than a beat behind her. I grab her shoulder, hauling her back. Her vest rips as she twists to knock away my hand. Then she’s fumbling with herself, trying to cover her bare naked breasts.
“Ooh, can it wait?” Cassius croons from the exit, his voice moving closer. “Her roommate might spot him?—?
“That fucking queer?” I snap. “Jasper won’t say a word. Trust me.” My eyes never leave Trinity’s, not even to look at her tits.
“Fuck,” Cassius mutters, and then there’s just the swish of the drape.
Trinity tries to draw the torn halves of her vest back over her chest, and flinches when I tell her to stop.
“How close are you with Gabriel?” I ask, stepping up to her. She moves back until her shoulders collide with a bookshelf.
“We’re…friends.”
“He ever fuck you?”
Her eyes go wide, and color instantly suffuses her cheeks. “What? No! He’s…he’s my fucking priest.”
“Was,” comes Reuben’s voice. He thrusts out her glass, now half-filled with whiskey. “Now he’s nothing.”
“He’s still my friend,” she says, ignoring the booze. “He’s never done anything to?—“
“So he’s never touched you?” I close the distance, snatching the glass from Rube’s hand on the way.
“No!” Her eyes sparkle with anger.
I grab her chin, force it down, and tip the glass against her lips. “Drink.”
She turns her head, spilling whiskey down her throat and bared breasts.
“I’ll lick that off later.”
At this, her body goes rigid. That same light sparkles, but this time it’s not anger. It’s not even fear.
Weed’s really good at several things. It makes you chatty. Happy. Hungry. Horny.
This little thing in front of me must be so fucking confused right now with her body throwing so many conflicting signals her way. I want to believe her.
“I saw you with him,” Rube says as I steer the glass back to her mouth and wrench open her jaw. “You’re more than friends.”
She doesn’t get a chance to reply, because I’m pouring whiskey into her mouth. This time, she catches it. Swallows it. When she coughs, some it sprays on my face.
I tear off what’s left of her vest and use it to wipe my face.
She starts crying.
Those big fat crocodile tears insult me.
I jerk her forward and bring the flat of my hand down on her ass with a solid thump. Her tears cut off in an instant. She sniffs, still trying to cover her tits, but no longer being pathetic about all this.
“We never—I’m not—” She chokes on whatever she’d been going to say and hangs her head.
“But you want to,” I say.
Her eyes dart up, still brimming, but she blinks away the tears before they can fall. “No.”
“Of course you would.” I slide a hand to the small of her back and draw her with me as I move to the couch. She comes with me, unresisting but unsteady. “Handsome fuck like that.” My stomach churns, but I swallow down the bile that comes up and keep going. “You must have imagined what it would feel like?”
“No,” she lies, her voice barely a whisper.
I sink onto the couch and draw her down with me. She takes her original seat, and glances warily at Reuben when he comes to sit beside her. He holds out her glass, and she lets out a forlorn little sigh.
Finally, the fight is over.
That last shred of resistance drains from her body. Her eyes dull to sullen gold as she drops the arms she’d been using to cover her chest. We don’t look. Right now we couldn’t be bothered with her tits. It’s her mind we’ve been trying to lay bare.
She was right. We didn’t bring her down here to fuck her. We came down here to interrogate her.
Torture never works.
Victims will say anything to get the pain to stop.
Weed and alcohol, though?
The combination leaves them helplessly compliant.
She lets Rube feed her the last inch of whiskey. When she shudders as the booze hits her throat, her convulsion reaches me through the seat cushion. Before I can stop myself, my hand’s around her throat. I push her back against the couch, and she lets me. There’s not even a sliver of fear in her eyes—just hopeless abandon.
Do your worst, Zachary.
Snuff out my life like the others. Why not? What else could I possibly tell you that you don’t already know?
But then it hits me.
It’s not what I need from her .
It’s what she needs from us .
If she honestly thinks this friend of hers is the pure, innocent priest from her past, then we need to set her straight. It’s a pity, having to break something so pretty…but at least the four of us will be there to pick up the pieces.
“How do you want him to fuck you?” My voice comes from far away as I start to disassociate from the moment, from what I’m about to do.
Her pulse quickens under my thumb.
“Like in the drawing,” she says. Her lips curl up into a faint smile. “The one Cass—Cass’s—ius drew.”
“You can call him Cass,” I murmur, leaning close, applying a little more pressure on her throat. She squirms a little, her eyelids flickering. But she’s been numbed to everything—panic included.
It’s better this way.
I know from experience.
Rube’s hand enters my view. He fixes the rosary around Trinity’s neck, positioning the crucifix just-so between her heaving breasts. Then he trails his fingertips down the center of her body.
Her stomach convulses at his touch, fluttering like a butterfly’s wing.
She giggles.
I flinch at that innocent, happy sound as it wrenches me back into the here and now.
My hand tightens. I shove her back hard enough to dislodge Rube’s hand and to recapture her attention.
“Did he ever touch you?” I ask again.
“No ,” she gasps. “ Never.”
“Good.” I sit back, releasing her throat and flexing my fingers.
Rube lays a hand on her stomach, and it nearly covers her belly. “You should be thankful,” he says.
Trinity rests her head back, slowly bringing a hand to her throat. She strokes the faint marks I left behind as her eyes move to Reuben. “Why?”
Her voice is thick now, her tongue sluggish as it forms the word. I guess she wasn’t lying when she said she doesn’t drink. She’s minutes—perhaps even seconds—from passing out.
“He would have defiled you,” Rube tells her mournfully. “Just like the others.”