Page 126 of Deliver us from Evil

Bet he’s regretting some of his life choices now.

“You always a dick to strangers?” I ask him as I furiously try to think of a way out of this.

Could shoot him, of course. There’s a gun on the floor. The dead woman must have dropped it there. But I can’t move that far or Trinity will bleed out. Plus, Mr. Vain looks trigger happy enough to shoot me if I so much as fart without his permission.

My comment curls up his lips ever so slightly. And God, that pseudo-smile makes my blood run ice-cold.

“You don’t know who I am?” He shifts his grip on Apollo, grabbing a fistful of his hair instead of the chokehold. He turns my brother’s head to the side so he can stare at Apollo’s face. “Trevor recognized me.”

A shudder goes through Apollo.

No.

It can’t be.

If this guy was involved with our captivity ten years ago, I would have remembered him. Which means he must be a new player in this fucked up game, but who? Is he Gabriel’s replacement?

But doesn’t matter. Whoever he is, he’s about to kill one, if not all, of the people in this room.

Where the fuck are Rube and Zach?

Rube went into the hall looking for Apollo so he could get the address…

I lock eyes with the new Guardian. And it’s as if he reads my motherfucking mind. I barely open my mouth before he turns and slams the door shut behind him.

But the lock’s busted, so it pops open again just an inch.

“Rube! Zach! Help!” My throat burns how I yell, but fuck knows if they can hear me.

Pointless. They’re already dead,Trinity says.

Christ, not now, babe.Please, not now.

Okay, fine,she says.They’re alive. They’re just busy, right? Jerking off somewhere, having a puff, taking a dump.

She’s got a mouth on her, this one. I’ll have to take her to task for it when we get out of this jam.

The Guardian sees the problem with the door the moment I do, though.

And that, finally, is when Apollo’s balls decide to drop. Most of us had that happen during puberty. Nope…not him.

He slams his elbow into the Guardian’s stomach.

Which, sadly, doesn’t do much. It just makes the guy grimace and then pistol-whip him so hard he goes down like someone pulled the plug.

“Fuck you, you shit-eating cunt!” I yell.

The Guardian doesn’t even look in my direction. I guess he’s established I’m not going anywhere.

He walks over and picks up the chair by the dresser and jams it under the door handle.

Literally a second before something big and angry slams into it on the other side.

Fuck, webothget a fright.

The Guardian steps back, gun raised, and points it at the door.

He pulls the trigger. The shot goes off. A hole appears like magic in the center of the door.

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