Page 17 of Deliver us from Evil

I nod. Love is a wonderful thing.

He catches sight of the movement from the corner of his eye. “Have you ever been in love?”

“I am.”

He frowns a little at this. “Really? With who?”

“The Brotherhood.”

His frown deepens. He sits back on his heels, putting his head to one side. “I don’t follow.”

I shrug. “Weird. I know. But I am.” Talking is easy. Once I get going, I can’t seem to stop. “I’m not sure about Zach. He scares me. But I love Reuben. And Cass. And Apollo. Different, but the same, you know?”

Gabriel reaches over and turns off the faucet, his eyes not leaving mine. When he speaks, it’s slowly and carefully, like he wants to make sure I understand every word.

“You mean youlikethem. You were friends with them?”

“No. I slept with them. All of them.”

The slap comes out of nowhere. I don’t even realize it’s happened until after. Suddenly, I’m facing the wall by the bath, and there’s a fierce tingling ache on the side of my face. I turn back to face Gabriel, working a jaw that feels rusty.

White spots pop up on his cheeks. He turns back to the tub, twisting open the faucet so hard it squeaks.

“A whore,” he says quietly as if to himself. “Your father said this would happen. Said you’d take after your mother.”

I lift a hand to my cheek. I should be insulted, but it feels like I’m watching this all play out from the back of my mind. When my body moves, it’s like someone else is doing it. When I speak, I’m hearing those words for the first time. “But I love them.”

Gabriel swipes a hand through his hair, leaving a clump of bubbles on the side of his head. They start popping, and I swear it sounds like a hissing snake.

“She could have had her pick,” he says, shaking his head. “Any boy at that school would have been happy just to have her look in his direction.” He nods fiercely, whipping up more and more bubbles. “But she chose my Keith. Always wanted what she couldn’t have, your mother.”

His head snaps around. He looks me up and down, a disgusted sneer pulling at his mouth. “You’re filthy,” he says, in much the same tone of voice he’s been using the whole time. “I hate filth.”

“Is it because of the basement?” I’m dimly aware that I shouldn’t be saying this stuff. That I should be keeping quiet. But my mouth’s on automatic. Words spill out before I can filter them. “Because maybe if you’d cleaned the boys more, you wouldn’t hate filth. It’s psychological. Must be. You hate yourself for what you did. So you hate whatever reminds you of that place.”

Gabriel stops with the bubbles. He doesn’t look at me as he sits back on his heels, hands dangling over the side of the tub and dripping water and bubbles. Then he leans over and closes the faucet.

After the last drop falls, the bathroom is quiet but for the faint hiss of the bubbles.

He clears his throat, but it doesn’t make his voice any smoother. “What basement?”

“The one you kept the boys in.”

He whips his head to face me, eyes wide. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, but his words sound so hollow, I wonder why he bothers trying to lie.

“You kept them there for years. Four little boys. More, I think. But those four were special. You kept them the longest.”

Gabriel tries to stand, but there’s something wrong with his legs. They tangle, and he ends up sitting on the edge of the bath. The whites of his eyes gleam, his eyebrows almost at his hairline.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says again. Voice hoarse now, but still so rehearsed.

My fingertips start tingling. At first, I think it’s because I’m scared. Terrified even. At least, I should be, somewhere deep inside. It only makes sense.

But then I realize it’s the heroin wearing off.

Can’t let him know, though. I have to take whatever advantage I can get, even a tiny one. So I make sure not to move. I try and keep my breathing at the same steady pace. And I continue talking.

“Apollo.”

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