Page 92 of Deliver us from Evil

His jaw bunches, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Can’t we just—” Rube says.

“Do you guys think it’s booby-trapped or something? Is the whole place going to explode the second I open the front door?” I walk ahead a foot and then turn on them, arms on my hips. “Seriously?”

They have the decency to look slightly embarrassed, but that doesn’t stop Cass from opening his mouth to argue.

“No.” I lift a finger. “No.I’ll be right over there.” I point at the house. “You’ll be close enough to hear me scream.”

Ooh, bad choice of words.

“Scream?” Apollo says, practically going to his toes. Rube’s hands curls into fists. Zachary’s eyes narrow. And Cass isn’t lounging against the side of the car anymore. He’s standing at the ready.

“Just…” I let out an exasperated growl. “Just stay in the car, would you? I’ll be out in a minute.”

I turn and head for the house, not bothering to find out if they’ll grant me my wish.

I get that they’re concerned about my safety, but Gabriel’sdead.There’s no bogeyman ready to snatch me anymore.

But when will they realize that?

My hand shakes when I try and put the key in the lock, so I take a few long breaths before letting myself in.

I leave the door open, turn around, and give my boys a wave.

Only Apollo waves back.

Why do I have a feeling I’m going to pay for this when we get home?

A faint smile toys around my lips.

I should do this more often.

The air inside my house smells stale. There’s still blood on the carpet where Zachary was shot. The furniture is still out of place.

But Gabriel must have come back at least once, perhaps after the investigation grew cold, because there’s a hint of cigarette smoke in the air.

I pause at the foot of the stairs, and then hurry up them to my room.

It’s still in the catastrophic state Gabriel left it in. I turn and take the framed drawing of theawsumunicorn from the wall, stare around at the place I called home, and head downstairs with a knot in my throat.

My heart starts beating a little faster when I lift a hand to open the study door.

It’s unlocked, but that’s no surprise. I heard Gabriel moving around in the study when I was creeping out of the basement, and then he came running. Guessing there was no time for him to lock the door again.

I step inside my father’s study and stare around. It’s a mess. All the furniture’s been shifted around. Books—mostly theological encyclopedias and leather-bound bibles—have been tossed off the bookshelf and lay scattered over the floor.

How the hell am I supposed to find anything in this mess?

And then I see it. It stands out like a beacon, and I don’t understand how he couldn’t have noticed it.

There’s a large leather-bound bible still on the shelf, snuggled between two thick books. It’s white, and I already know the letters on front will be embossed in shiny gold.

My mother’s bible.

Except…it can’t be. Because I took it from her reading corner the night I left my home forever. But when I pick it up, it has the same weight. The same gold-trimmed pages.

I open the cover. There’s a letter-sized safe inside, perhaps two inches thick.

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