Page 81 of Fire

“Yes.” He poured more water into the glass. “He always had a drink before he did something particularly unpleasant or evil. I can’t ever remember his breath not smelling of alcohol.”

“I don’t know much about paganism, but I’ve never associated it with evil.”

“And you would be right. In a nutshell, paganism is the name early Christians gave any people who believed in more than one god.” His lips pulled into a thin smile. “Obviously, my father never bothered reading the history books.”

He took another sip of water then stared down into its depths. “When I became older and understood better, I realized what he practiced was something he’d invented. A little bit of everything so long as it suited his needs.”

She was walking away, over toward the couch, but he guessed he should be grateful she was still there at all. “And he was the leader of this cult?”

Shit, his head was in such a fucked-up place, he was telling everything ass backward. “Yes, leader, founder, however you want to label it. I believe it started in college as some off-shoot fraternity that snowballed into a lifestyle. He and his buddies gathered more ‘associates,’ lured some women, and a cult was born.”

Gwen took a seat on the couch, plopping down as if the weight of the world were on her shoulders. He knew the feeling. “And your mother was one of those women?”

Blake shrugged. “I assume so. There’s a lot I only speculate about to fill in the gaps.”

She nodded as if understanding. “You’re here, now.” She waved an arm encompassing the room. “I can’t help but imagine how that happened.”

He’d been hoping to save that revelation until the end or, if he were lucky, not have to answer it at all if he could distract her. “Perhaps the better question is,whyit happened.”

Tossing back the last of his water, he set the glass down and made his way to where she sat. He didn’t sit himself, wanting the freedom to move, but he did want to be near her.

He took a deep breath, preparing himself, knowing what he was about to tell her could change everything. “I said my father was evil. Please remember, what I did was because I truly believed that.” He looked at her, inspecting her features to make sure she understood.

At her nod, he continued, “We had rites of passage. Up until the age of ten, I had… well, I can’t call it a normal childhood, but it was as close as you could get, living the way we were. Until that point, I was raised predominately by my mother and the other women. We never left the compound. Didn’t have access to a media source. Most of my time had been spent in academics. That changed when I turned ten, and other than continuing my studies, my time was spent with the men.

“I learned to hunt, fish, woodwork. But on the whole, they were a lazy bunch of fucks who sat around drinking while the women catered to them. And by cater, I mean toalltheir needs.” He paused, giving her a chance to stop him.

When she didn’t, he continued, “I wasn’t required to participate, but I was required to observe. On some level, I realized what they did wasn’t right, but I didn’t fully understand the depravity then. Not only were the women used but so were the girls once they reached a certain age. And I watched, not knowing what they were doing was wrong.”

“You couldn’t have known any better.”

“No, I couldn’t have, but I should have.”

“How? How could you have known?” He heard the plea in her voice, daring him to tell her what he did had been wrong so she could refute it.

But what she didn’t realize was there was no forgiveness for his sins. While he might not have raped innocent children, what he had done—though justified still to this day in his mind—was morally worse in the big scheme of things.

He was more sinful than his father—his father had never taken a life.

“I don’t know.” He swiped a hand through his hair. “But it should be knowledge all moral people are born with. It should be ingrained in one’s psyche.” And, in a way, he guessed it had been because he did end upseeingthe damage they’d caused and the evil they’d spread in the haunted looks of their victims.

“It wasn’t until my sister was old enough to participate that I’d been pushed far enough to dare rebel.”

“No.” Her hands had balled into fists on her lap, and he could see she was near her breaking point.

He thought about stopping, maybe save it for another day, but they had come too far, he was almost to the end. Better to get it over with, for both their sakes.

“I’d just turned sixteen—another rite of passage—the year I got my brand. Sissy was still so young—only twelve—but became a woman that summer. It had been a rough time for both of us. I was in so much pain and delirious half the time. They hadn’t let the wound heal properly, purposely letting it fester so it would build scar tissue, but that was nothing compared to what Sissy endured. I’d have lived through the pain a hundred times over for one day of relief for her.”

He walked to the window but didn’t see the city before him. Instead, Sissy’s tear-streaked, bruised cheeks and pleading eyes haunted his vision. “I tried to console her as best as I could, but the nights became a nightmare, literally. She’d wake up screaming. And I would rock her for long hours before she would fall back to sleep—and to this day, it’s the only thing that will calm her. She faded away right before my eyes, and there was nothing I could do. Little by little, my once joyfully energetic sister became a shell—a breathing doll—of her former self.”

He swiped at his eyes with the heels of his palms, trying to get his emotions under control while the memories of Sissy’s screams echoed through his head.

The hand landing on his arm startled him, and he turned his head to see Gwen had come up beside him. He captured that hand, entwining their fingers, seeking her warmth, hoping to thaw the chill that ran through him.

He turned his gaze back to the window, but instead of seeing the city or visions of his past, all he saw was Gwen’s reflection. The beautiful line of her profile with her head tipped, looking up at him. “It took months until I had enough strength. And in that time, I plotted my revenge.”

Her fingers squeezed his. “Is this the part where you kick everyone’s ass?”

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