Page 57 of Deliver us from Evil

“Sure, yeah. I’ll stay right here.”

My hands are still up, and it’s taking quite a lot of my concentration to ignore the smell of copper in the air. I should be fine, long as I don’t dwell. Long as I don’t look at my hands.

Gabriel trains the gun on me as he steps back.

Follow him.

Aw, fuck, Rube. I wanna, but he’s going to kill me if I try.

Follow him.

“Hey, uh…”

Gabriel pauses. The hand around the gun tightens.

“I just want to know one thing.”

He frowns at me. “Quiet.”

I curl the fingers of one hand until just my index is up. “Just one. Please? Humor me? It’s the least you can do.”

Gabriel shakes his head like he’s wondering which of the two of us have lost our minds.

Probably both.

“What?” he snaps, taking another step back.

“Why’d you do it?”

He stops. “Do what?”

“The basement. The kids. Us.” I point at myself with my finger. “I mean…that wasn’t cool, man. Seriously. Are you a psychopath? Because you’re lacking all sorts of empathy.”

Gabriel’s lips lift into a snarl, and it looks like he’s reconsidering letting me live. But fuck it. I mean…

“That’s why you’re following me?” Gabriel moves the gun a little closer as if he’s pointing with it. “Talk to Trinity. I told her everything.”

“Like how you chose us? Did you tell her that? Because I’ve always wondered about that. I mean, compared to Cass and Rube, even Zach, I’m not much of a looker.”

Gabriel shakes his head as if he’s got something in his ear. “I don’t know why she chose you.”

“She? She who?” Was it Zachary’s mom? I never met the woman, but—

“Monica chose. She…she drew less attention than Keith. No one thought twice about her sitting in the park, reading a book.”

Wait…Monica? As in Trinity’smom? But there’s a look in Gabriel’s eyes as if he’s waiting to see my reaction. Playing me.

“Yeah, okay. Blame it on a dead girl.” I nod a few times. “Clever. No one can prove you wrong.”

Another snarl. “You want proof?” He steps closer and jams the gun against my chest.

If I’d been paying closer attention at that shooting range, I might have remembered how to take a gun off someone. I mean, I’m pretty sure that’s something they cover.

But I didn’t.

So I can’t.

I don’t dare try. Because his finger is curled around the trigger, and I have a feeling the smallest jolt will send a bullet straight into my heart. Ain’t no coming back from that, not unless you’re the Son of God. And I’m pretty sure he’s come and gone.

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