Page 80 of I Am Salvation

By the time Mack and Dad come back from the kitchen with their two and a half donuts, I’ve opened my gift—the newest Hero’s Duty video game. Another gift that Mom and Dad said was a little too pricey this year.

“What else did you get this year?” Ricky asks.

I cross the room and pick up my new set of drumsticks. “I got these!”

Ricky grins. “Sick! Have you tried them out yet?”

“Not yet.” My snare drum is in the corner of the living room. I pick it up and play a few licks with my new sticks.

“Dude, you’re so good at that.” Ricky’s eyes are wide. “One day you’ll be in a rock band, I swear it.”

“Yes.” Mack covers his ears. “He’s very good, but very loud. I swear, Dragon, one day I’m going to take my damned hatchet to that drum of yours.”

One day I’m going to take my damned hatchet to that drum of yours.

Malcolm Osborne. Ricky’s older brother. We called him Mack.

I’ll be fucking damned.

He always doted on Griffin. Brought her candy and gifts, loved hearing her laugh. Treated Ricky and me like we were a couple of street urchins, but oh. My. God.

Do I let on to him that I know who he is?

Why did he cut her the first time?

Was it an accident?

When I heard her scream, and I came running into the room, did he dart back out the window, leaving the knife?

He knew where all our kitchen utensils were. He and Ricky had been to our house a lot. He used to mow our lawn, for God’s sake. He picked up Cinnamon’s poop in the back yard. Did odd jobs when Dad’s plumbing work kept him too busy to fix things around the house. When Mack was done, Mom would invite him in, fix him a sandwich, and then leave him alone in the kitchen to eat it. And Dad showed him where we kept the sharp knives when they came over that Christmas morning.

Jesus fuck. All this time…

I have to get a hold of myself. Can’t let him know that I’m on to him.

I need to listen.

Listen on the other end of the line for anything that might give me a clue as to where he is.

Is he in Albuquerque? Where Alayna found the compound that belongs to the cult?

That would make sense.

In which case, he wouldn’t be too far from here.

He’s already given me some information, on purpose or not.

But I’m thinking he may have done it on purpose.

“How much money do you need?” I ask.

“Ten grand.”

“Not a problem. I can wire it to you. Just give me your number.”

“You have my number.”

“You can take money through an app at this number?”

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