The Sinners of Saint Amos - Logan Fox Page 0,170

look in his direction.” He nods fiercely, whipping up more and more bubbles. “But she chose my Keith. Always wanted what she couldn’t have, your mother.”

His head snaps around. He looks me up and down, a disgusted sneer pulling at his mouth. “You’re filthy,” he says, in much the same tone of voice he’s been using the whole time. “I hate filth.”

“Is it because of the basement?” I’m dimly aware that I shouldn’t be saying this stuff. That I should be keeping quiet. But my mouth’s on automatic. Words spill out before I can filter them. “Because maybe if you’d cleaned the boys more, you wouldn’t hate filth. It’s psychological. Must be. You hate yourself for what you did. So you hate whatever reminds you of that place.”

Gabriel stops with the bubbles. He doesn’t look at me as he sits back on his heels, hands dangling over the side of the tub and dripping water and bubbles. Then he leans over and closes the faucet.

After the last drop falls, the bathroom is quiet but for the faint hiss of the bubbles.

He clears his throat, but it doesn’t make his voice any smoother. “What basement?”

“The one you kept the boys in.”

He whips his head to face me, eyes wide. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, but his words sound so hollow, I wonder why he bothers trying to lie.

“You kept them there for years. Four little boys. More, I think. But those four were special. You kept them the longest.”

Gabriel tries to stand, but there’s something wrong with his legs. They tangle, and he ends up sitting on the edge of the bath. The whites of his eyes gleam, his eyebrows almost at his hairline.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says again. Voice hoarse now, but still so rehearsed.

My fingertips start tingling. At first, I think it’s because I’m scared. Terrified even. At least, I should be, somewhere deep inside. It only makes sense.

But then I realize it’s the heroin wearing off.

Can’t let him know, though. I have to take whatever advantage I can get, even a tiny one. So I make sure not to move. I try and keep my breathing at the same steady pace. And I continue talking.

“Apollo.”

Gabriel’s lips part suddenly, as if he’s about to object. But he says nothing. Just sits there on the edge of the bath, gripping the porcelain with white-knuckled hands.

“He’s the one that broke your nose.”

His eyes flinch. He shakes his head. “I don’t know what—”

“Cassius.”

Gabriel’s chest moves as he takes a deep breath. He suddenly seems to break out of whatever spell he’d been under. Standing, he steps closer, towering over me.

His expression is neutral as he slides his hand under my armpits and lifts me onto my feet.

And I let him.

Because if I try to fight him now, there’s no way I’ll win. And then he’ll know I tried to trick him. I can’t take a chance like that—I don’t know how many I’ll get. Right now, he’s preoccupied. I’ve pushed him off course.

“I guess they probably changed their names or something,” I say.

I expect him to deny it again. But this time he’s silent. I guess he’s trying to ignore me, but I can tell from the aggression in his movements that what I’m saying is hitting home.

The way he tugs at my dress to get it off. How his face contorts when I do nothing to help or hinder him. The way he draws back, as if startled by the fact that I’m not wearing underwear.

I have to use everything I can.

“They cut my panties off with a knife,” I tell him. Lying is so easy. Maybe it’s something to do with the residue of the drug floating around in my brain. I have no idea how they work, but it’s as if it’s annihilated every single filter I’ve ever had.

“Trinity.” His voice is unsteady. He steps back, watches me. “Stop.”

“Why?” I tilt my head to the side. “I thought you like this kind of thing.”

His eyes go wide again. “You don’t know anything,” he whispers furiously. “You’re a child playing with—”

“I thought you liked children,” I say. It’s becoming more difficult to keep my voice neutral. Emotions are coming back. Shame. I don’t want to be standing naked in front of a priest. In front of a man I once thought of as my only friend.

But I also don’t want to stay here, with him. I don’t want to find out what