Page 19 of Deliver us from Evil

Because where I was convinced—convinced—he was about to tell me everything, perhaps even break down in a fit of conscience—

Gabriel throws back his head and laughs. Just once.

He grabs me.

On instinct, I struggle.

But I guess he’s had a lot of practice dealing with unruly kids, because he kicks my legs out from under me and tips me to the side in one smooth motion.

My shin slams into the side of the bath, but that barely slows me.

One minute I’m standing, the next I’m under a sea of hot water and bubbles. My gasp of shock has me choking, my throat burning as water goes where it shouldn’t.

I fucked up.

I pushed too hard.

I thought I was ready, but I clearly wasn’t. My struggles are weak and pathetically ineffectual against Gabriel’s strong arms.

He easily holds me under the water. When I reach up and try to gauge out his eyes, all I’m really doing is brushing his face with my fingers.

I manage to close my mouth. Hold my breath. It hurts like nothing I’ve ever felt, because my lungs still want to expel the water that went down my windpipe. And I’m trying to suppress those convulsions best I can.

Pain flickers red hot inside me. Building. Building.

My eyes are open, and they burn too because the water’s too hot.

I don’t know how long I can hold my breath, but it already feels like it’s been too long.

My limbs are so heavy. My body weighs a fucking ton.

I can’t even reach Gabriel’s face anymore. So I try and grab onto his shirt.

Can’t hold on.

Hands slap into the water.

My body convulses on its own, this time I can’t stop it, and my lungs empty themselves. It takes forever, but then it’s over in a heartbeat.

Only pain and emptiness left now.

And the faint sensation of his hands on my shoulders, holding me down.

Chapter Nine

Rube

“Anything?” Apollo asks quietly as soon as he spots me. I’m sitting on the couch, Trinity’s big white bible on my lap. I was reading it, but not with enthusiasm like I usually do. More just paging through, hoping for a sign that she’d read it too. A dog-eared corner. Some notes in pencil.

But there’s no trace of her on here.

Maybe she never even opened it.

Which means I have nothing to remember her by.

“I’d have told you,” I say, closing the bible and letting out a sigh.

It’s been almost hours since I watched that car drive away. I’ve been waiting for a contact of mine who has an in at the Bureau to run Gabriel’s plates and see if he comes up anywhere. But it’s as if they disappeared off the face of the planet. For all I know, they switched cars as soon as they hit Redwater.

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