Page 50 of Unholy

ELIJAH

Dad pulls up with Rylee. I am leaning against the church doors, whistling while waiting to welcome him. This day has been a long time coming. I never liked the vast majority of The Exiled; I understood I had to participate and initiate in it, but I had no use for the organization. I would kill with or without them, they just gave me more available options.

“Thomas, welcome our guests.”

He still hasn’t changed from our adventures this past evening. Rushing down the steps of the Lord’s house, Thomas’s hand reaches out, greeting Dad andher. My eyes sliver, glaring at her.

I don’t like her.

Dad takes Thomas’s hand and gives him a firm shake before looking my way, and when he does, I give a little wave.

“Son, what do we have here?” he asks, rubbing the palms of his hands together. I can tell by how he’s dressed that this is official business. A three-piece navy suit, his gold rings and cuff links, with a pair of dark brown curb-stomping boots.

“Your beard needs a trim, old man.” He smirks then flashes me the bird before pushing his hair back off his forehead.

Muffled screams follow. Looking over, I see our friend has awoken again. The drugs started wearing off a couple hours ago, so I have been hitting him over the head with my bat to knock him out again periodically. I stuffed his mouth with some old rags so he wouldn’t bite his tongue and bleed before I gave him permission to do so. And I find him utterly annoying, so it also helps with muffling his voice.

Once we got to the church, I dragged him up the stairs and tied him at his ankles and wrists, like a pig ready to be roasted, and we have been here since, waiting for permission to proceed. Dad wanted to be here for it, and apparently, his friend needed to be here too. If Greta shows up next, I am fucking out of here.

Walking behind Dalton, I kick him in the kidneys and tell him to, “Shut the fuck up.” He groans in agony. Pussy.

“Take his muzzle off, son,” my dad requests. I look behind him to Thomas, and he rushes forward, pulling out the rag, and tucks it in his pants pocket.

“Good boy, no evidence.” Thomas smiles with pride from my praise, but then I glance down to his hands and notice something is missing. “What did I say? Where is it?” I snap, and he startles as he looks around frantically.

Racing forward, he snatches his missing machete. “I’m sorry, boss.”

“Never leave it lying around. If this dumb fuck got free, he would have used it against you. It’s the fundamentals, Thomas!” I spit, and he bows his head in shame, as he should.

“Elijah, focus.” My dad pulls my attention back to him. Rylee is now standing next to him, and his brows raise questioningly, “And the others?”

Lifting my arms up like I am a preacher, I bellow, “Look up, look all around you. The heavens are singing to us. It’s raining bodies.” And instead of following my instructions, he laughs and places his palm on my forehead.

“Why are you touching me?”

Still chuckling, he replies, “Do you have a fever?”

I roll my eyes and give him a short response to his ridiculous question. “Look. Up.” And I point with my bat to the tall stone arch of the church. His eyes light up; there hangs three Dukes, one Duchess, one Prince, and Chief Fredricks. Greta’s people searched Dalton’s for any clues while tidying the place up, and they found a notebook with names and payment amounts. After snatching the book, they started rounding people up. This is all we were able to get in such short notice.

A thick rope was tied around their delicate necks and secured to the other end of the roof before pushing them off the ledge. A couple necks broke quickly. Others’ deaths were prolonged; their feet dangled for minutes until they were deprived of oxygen and died. All have their hands restrained behind their backs, and the sight should be a photograph on my wall.

I point out, while he continues analyzing who we got, “You said no blood, so this is no blood.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

Confused, I look at him. “Dad, are we into that now? You know, Jesus?” Considering our location, it feels to me like it’s a valid question.

Dad pinches the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up slightly, and squeezes his eyes shut like he has a headache. “I can’t have this conversation right now, son. I just... no.”

“It would make sense why you picked this place.”

Rylee laughs behind us, and it takes every part of me not to bark at her to shut up. This is none of her business.

“No, Elijah, we do not do Jesus now. But you have done well here today. And for that, you will be rewarded. Bring the blood.”

Before I can dive in, Dalton has some final words for us. “You must show people. Teach them where they belong in the grand scheme of things. The town should have been bowing down tous. Fearing The Exiled. But you let them walk all over us. You fucking old-timers were nothing but cowards. Pathetic. A thing of the past. I am our future.”

“Good for you,” I murmur to myself while taking the rope, keeping Dalton restrained.

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