coughing around that fiery liquid as it sears its way down my throat. Then he snatches the glass from my hand and sets it down on the floor beside his arm of the sofa.
I wipe my chin with my fingers, and stare down at my thighs. My veins show up like tiny blue rivers under my skin.
Not sure how this is possible, but I keep forgetting I’m surrounded by crazy people.
That plan I had? A crock of shit.
I’m not getting out of here alive.
They’re just toying with me.
The worst part is I’m starting to hope they’ll at least take their time.
No one wants to die.
Chapter Thirty
Zac
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