could incinerate anyone who happened to cross his view, and I’m alternating between trying to make myself invisible and keep an eye on Jasper to make sure he’s not about to jump out a window—with me in tow.
By the time we get to the chapel, there’s a small group of boys tagging along behind us.
You’d think it couldn’t get more awkward than this, but then Perry enters the picture.
Jasper stops short. I glance at him and immediately turn to see what he’s looking at with a face that suddenly turned to stone.
Not what. Who.
Perry’s standing under one of the trees dotting the lawn between Saint Amos and the chapel. He was heading our way, but as I watch he slows down. A second later he stops, watching us with owlish eyes as Jasper heads for the chapel again.
“Aren’t you going to—?”
“Don’t be an idiot,” he mutters, tugging me after him. I give Perry a timid wave, but he either doesn’t see me or decides not to draw any more attention to himself because he doesn’t wave back.
I couldn’t be happier when we step inside the chapel’s cool shadows. I aim for the pew closest to the door but Jasper tightens his grip and hauls me down the aisle like this is our own shotgun wedding.
I guess morning prayers aren’t compulsory for staff but Sunday mass is because today the pews are crammed full.
I spot all four members of the Brotherhood as Jasper hauls me down the aisle. Apollo is on the other side of the church in the second row, nestled between a bunch of men I assume all work in the kitchen. Cass and Rube are sitting with the students.
Judging from the way they’re staring at me, the fact that my roommate is holding my hand doesn’t sit well.
I should probably mention to Jasper that holding my hand isn’t going to make anyone believe he’s suddenly into girls. What it will do is get him into a ton of shit for dragging me around like he just bought me at a slave auction.
We sit in the second row behind the teachers with Zachary less than a yard to the left. It feels like he’s the only one in the entire church who hasn’t been watching me since I walked in.
Somehow, that makes me more nervous than if he’d been staring like his brothers.
The bruise on his jaw is barely noticeable now. I’m sure if it was still visible, he wouldn’t have dared to show his face this morning.
I wince when my ass hits the pew. Although Zachary’s spanking didn’t bruise my skin as much as I’d thought it would, it still hurts like hell. Especially on these hard seats.
Jasper must be in agony.
I glance aside at him and then hurriedly look straight ahead. He’s glaring so hard at Zachary I’m surprised my Psych teacher’s hair hasn’t caught on fire.
Although it seems Zachary isn’t paying him any mind, I know for a fact he’s aware of us.
Both of us.
Thanks, Jasper. All I wanted this morning was to remain invisible.
I was exhausted when I got back to my room last night. My ass hurt, my head hurt...my heart hurt.
Yes, I’d been digging for answers, but I hadn’t expected to unearth a rotting corpse.
A few more kids rush in and hurriedly find seats. A reverential hush fills the chapel’s vaulted ceilings. Timing his entrance perfectly, Father Gabriel walks in a mere second after the first bored whisper reaches me from the students seated behind us.
My lungs turn to concrete.
Gabriel looks just like he always does, but now that familiar smile gracing his wide mouth seems fake as margarine. His eyes aren’t keen and inquisitive anymore—they’re cunning and shifty.
It’s like that optical illusion. Once you see the rabbit, you can’t see the duck anymore.
As soon as he catches sight of me, Gabriel’s gaze strips me bare.
It’s just your imagination.
There’s no reason for him to suspect anything is different about Trinity Malone, daughter of Keith and Monica—devoted parishioners of the Redford Missions of Love church.
I’m starting to sweat.
Gabriel’s eyes release me when he takes in the rest of the crowd, and I sag in my seat.
“Good morning, children.”
There’s still no proof to Brotherhood’s claims, but logic doesn’t reign in my mind anymore.
Is it because you want them to fuck you? Is that why you don’t need proof anymore, you blasphemous little slut?
My mouth turns sour.
Father Gabriel starts on a sermon that sounds like so many others I’ve heard over the years. I find myself