Deliver us from Evil - Logan Fox Page 0,27

back his head and laughs.

The sound is more terrifying than when he was on top of me, slapping me into submission.

“Oh, God.” A last laugh. “Yes.” Another sigh. “They both are. They are so very fucking dead.” He dips his head a little. “God answers our prayers in his own way,” he says, placing a hand over his heart. “It only took a few thousand of them before he answered mine.”

I grit my teeth at him. “It’s karma. It’s what happens if you’re a bad person.”

His face turns to stone, but he doesn’t try and stop me.

“Think you’ll get away with it? You won’t.” I lift my head, pushing my chin out at him. “And I hope God punishes you. I hope you die a slow and horrible death. Because that’s more than what you deserve for what you did to those boys, you sick fuck!”

The silence that comes after my pronouncement seems much too quiet, like the walls in here are still soaking up every stray sound wave.

Gabriel tilts his head to the side. Takes a step closer. “You still don’t get it, do you?”

I cringe away the closer he comes, but there’s nowhere for me to go. Tied spread-eagled to this bed, I can’t do anything to protect myself.

“I had nothing to do with those kids. Nothing!” He points a finger to the side, then stabs it into his chest. “He blamed everything on me. He set me up when I told him I’d take you away from him. And he couldn’t have that, could he? Oh no.”

Gabriel gives his head a furious shake.

“You were the only reason Monica stayed. You were the glue that held your dysfunctional family together. Monica wouldn’t leave him, because he told her he would hurt you if she tried.”

My ears are singing. Not hymns, but dirges filled with despair.

Gabriel lets out another bitter laugh. “And that was my fault.” He lunges forward, grabs the front of my shirt in a fist. “I’m the reason you’re alive. I’m the reason he had something he could use to control her with. To control us with.”

His other hand cups my cheek. “He used you to turn her against me. And when I threatened to expose him, he made it look like I was the one who arranged everything. All those boys, for all those sick men? Me!”

My mouth is open. My eyes wide. But I can’t digest the information flooding my mind.

“He found a film of a young boy.” Gabriel’s eyes are wide, his face sickly pale. “He made us watch it. Me and Monica. Told us that was what he needed. That was the only cure for his sickness. Just one boy. One boy, and he wouldn’t prey on anyone else again.”

“N-No, pl-ease,” I manage, but sobs cut up the words.

“Who do you think it was, found that first boy for him? Hmm?” He leans close again, twisting the fabric of my shirt. Pushing me hard into the mattress. His fingertips dig into the side of my face as he forces me to look at him.

“Who do you think brought him down here, to the dark?”

“N-No…”

“Wasn’t me,” Gabriel whispers furiously. “I refused. I told her I’d have no part in it.”

“Please.”

“But she loved him so fucking much. More than life itself. More than that boy’s life.”

He shakes my head. Twists. The fabric is cutting into my flesh. It feels like it’s compressing my lungs.

Or maybe that’s fear.

Panic.

Denial.

“He didn’t last very long down here in the dark. Keith said it was because he didn’t have any friends to play with.”

I close my eyes.

Our father, which art in heaven.

“But there wasn’t enough room down here, was there? Monica tried to reason with him. Not enough room for another boy, Keith. Where would he sleep?”

Give us this day, our daily bread.

“So they had to find somewhere else. A bigger house. Someplace out of the way.”

And forgive us our trespassers, as we forgive those who trespass against us.

“And they did. They found a lovely, big old house out in the country. A place no one would suspect. And they had to, because Keith had found himself some friends. Believers of his cure.”

And deliver us from evil.

“Nice big house. With a nice big basement. And then the boys could have friends to play with. And there was more than enough space to put them, when they were dead.”

“You’re lying,” I whisper. “Mom had nothing to do with this. She couldn’t have. She’s not—”

“Oh, you’d be amazed, child. You’d be