Page 103 of Deliver us from Evil

A Tale of Two Cities.

Casino Royale.

Great Expectations.

I’ll never forget the smell of those books. Or how, when I turned the first page of Alice in Wonderland, I wondered why on earth an adult man would own a book like that.

Since then, I’ve always been drawn to books. My interest moved to bibles when I decided to play the part of a pious kid on his way to becoming a priest as a way to get closer to Father Gabriel without rousing suspicion.

Very little of that interest was feigned.

I found solace in the pages of any bible I read.

Cass is right—there’s no safe in this room anymore. But there is a treasure.

Seems Trinity’s parents collected bibles. Mostly King James, but there’s a Geneva here too. I crack them open, hoping to find a clue, but they’re as barren as the big white one Trinity came to Saint Amos with.

It makes sense—you’d destroy the value of the book by marking it—but a cheap mass-produced King James is just as empty.

I guess the church was just a front for Trinity’s parents.

We split up to search the house. Apollo found a door we assume leads to the basement, but it has a keypad. That combination should be the same one for the safe we can’t find. But Trinity never gave us the code. Apollo’s gone to look around the house and see if there’s another way inside the basement—maybe through a hurricane door or something. Cass and Zach went upstairs.

I said I’d search the study. But there’s nothing in here. I crack open one more bible, but it hits the floor a second later when I hear aripfrom upstairs.

Apollo must have just come back inside already—he and Cass are in the main bedroom when I arrive.

We watch, silent, as Zach digs his fingers into the edge of the carpet and yanks up another strip, baring the hardwood floor beneath.

“Hey, Zach?” Cass asks quietly. “Whatcha doing over there, buddy?”

Zach spins around in a crouch, staring at us with a lowered head. Eyes bright, wide. “You don’t smell that?” he spits out. He waves a hand. “It’s all over this fucking place.”

I step forward, sweeping out and arm and using it to herd Cass and Apollo behind me, out of the way. “Smell what?” I ask.

Zach rushes to his feet. He charges toward me, and I almost back up when I see the ferocity on his face. But then he goes right past us, shoves a hand into a closet that’s standing open, and drags out a sweater.

He brings it to me, shoves it under my nose. “This,” he hisses.

I turn my head away, but he follows with the sweater until I take a reluctant sniff at the fabric.

When I snatch it from him and take another whiff, his shoulders sag. “It’s him.”

Zach’s eyes slide past me, fix on Apollo, then Cass. “Our Ghost lives here.”

* * *

The soundof ripping carpet fills the room. Cass joined Zach on the floor, and they’ve almost torn up everything. Apollo is by the closet, dragging everything out into a pile on the floor.

Zach has them believing they’ll find another safe or something in here.

I’m sure someone with as many secrets as Keith Malone had tons of hidey holes…but even if they do find another secret place, I’m sure it will be empty.

I go through the nightstands. There’s nothing of interest in there—bible, tissues, lip balm, lotion. A half-eaten candy bar still in its wrapper on what I assume is Monica’s side, judging from the feminine scented lotions and creams, but it’s turned white from age.

I almost don’t pick up her bible. None of the ones I’ve found have proved useful yet—why would anything be different up here?

But just like some people can’t walk past a rose bush without smelling the blooms…

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