The Sinners of Saint Amos - Logan Fox Page 0,185

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 fucking amazed.” Gabriel releases my shirt and absently smooths the fabric down over my chest as he stares into my eyes.

“Who do you think washed all that filthy money they earned?”

“No. They didn’t have money. We weren’t rich. You’re lying!”

Gabriel’s lips quirk up in a smile. “No, you weren’t rich. Monica was clever. She made sure not to raise any suspicions. But as soon as you were eighteen, they were going to disappear.”

He stands, leaving behind the ache where his fingers had been gripping my face.

“But then God struck them down. Now they’re in hell, Trinity. Right where they belong.”

“And what about his friends?” I ask, my voice hoarse, broken. “What about the boys?”

“Dead. They hid them well. His followers…?” Gabriel shrugs as he purses his lips and glances away. “They’ll find other cures.” Then his eyes are back on me, fiery and determined. “But God will seek them out, one by one, and he will strike them down.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I’ve been praying, Trinity.” A smile crawls onto his face. “I’ve been praying for each and every one of them.”

Chapter Fifteen

Rube

“This is it?” Cass says through a mouthful of smoke. He tips back his head and then shakes it as he flicks away the butt end of his cigarette. “What a dump.”

“Still can’t believe this didn’t come up before,” Apollo says. He’s got his hands in his pockets as if it’s cold outside, but the sun is shining and I’m in short sleeves.

Could be the damp. It must have rained here last night, because the ground is still soggy in some places.

“Too close to home,” I tell Apollo. “He made sure nothing led back here.”

I head for the church, leaving them standing on the sidewalk.

Cass strays away down the road and Apollo hurries after him. Maybe Cass is worried he’ll run into a priest. His hatred of the clergy borders on psychosis.

I let myself in and wander down the aisle toward the chancel. The nave is empty, which is no surprise for a Friday morning.

There’s a sister near the altar, replacing some of the gutted-out candles. She turns when she hears my footsteps and does a double take.

“Can I help you?” she calls out, hugging herself and grabbing hold of the blatant crucifix around her neck. Seems this is one of the dioceses that don’t require sisters to wear habits. But the big cross was still a dead giveaway.

“Morning, sister…?” I stop a few feet away, keeping my distance and hoping it’ll help ease her mind.

“Vicky,” she says reluctantly, giving me a small nod.

This isn’t the greatest neighborhood, but why is she so spooked?

“Reuben.” I lift a hand to shake, but she ignores it, instead watching me with wide eyes as if willing me to get to the point.

Chances were slim to none that anyone would hand over baptism records to a non-relative.

We’d stopped off at the mall on the way here and picked up fresh clothes for me. Not really something we could afford, but we all looked like a bunch of degenerates in our Salvation Army getups.

I bought a pair of dark jeans. Thankfully,