Page 122 of Babalon

I buck at him with the last two words, the foul word falling from my mouth like acid. I despise using this type of language, and just like in the past, it tallies up the number of lashings I will give myself once I find the means to do so.

My Lord has been silent since I finished killing Nathan. Each time I reach out to him, for something— anything—there is no response. It feels as if he has abandoned me, and that leaves a sour taste in my mouth. The other voices are present, but his is gone. The power I felt with God working through me, also missing.

The presumptuous man looks down at his crossed legs, picking at a piece of invisible lint like the condescending prick he is. The good-cop bad-cop routine is usually fun to play with, but when you get a detective that acts like you’re below them, that’s the thing that sets me off. Takes me back to feeling inadequate in my father’s eyes. Does that matter now? No, it’s just annoying me to death.

Flexing my hands, I roughly lean back into the back of my metal chair. The two of us, back to staring at one another. I have the patience of a saint, but does he have the time? That’s the real question.

Tick-tock, Detective.

“Where is Kace Patton?”

“Who?”

“Inmate Kace Patton.”

“Never heard of him.”

“Lucien, this would go a whole lot faster if you just cooperated.”

“What gave you the indication that I want to cooperate with you? You’ve given me what I want, now there’s nothing for you to hold over my head.”

“I’m sure I can find something,” He mused.

While I haven’t had the time to find out everything there is to know about the man, these types always have something that sets them off. I just need to figure out which one it is, and quickly, I’m bored and want to go back to my cell.

The Federal Bureau of Prisons refused to move me to a different institution, along with several others. Saying we are too hostile. The whole world can see that they’re keeping me here to help them retrieve Kace when there’s nothing left of him. I don’t want to leave; I need to stay close to Nadia. She may be headed to the women's prison, and no longer an officer at Darkwater, but I need to know where she is and to stay as close to her as possible.

Leaning forward, I motion to the pack of cigarettes the detective has graciously supplied to me. Half of my mirror image peeks around his silhouette, reflecting in the observation window behind him as I shifted to grab them. Pulling one from the pack, I place it between my lips and lock eyes with him.

“You mind giving me a hand? Can’t light this on my own.”

Without a word, Whitlock produces a lighter and sets the end on fire until it fades out and I have a sizable cherry sitting on the tip.

“Your mom know that you still miss her? I take it she hasn’t spoken to you in years?” I asks, blowing a plume of smoke out into the air. Testing to see if he takes the bait and if my assumption is right.

“Excuse me?” he questions, brows pinching together, head angling a fraction.

“Your mom.”

“I heard that part.”

“Well?”

It’s always the mothers, for men like him. The ones with daddy issues don’t clean up as nice as he does. He longs to be accepted by the person who gave him life, there’s a rocky relationship there and I will exploit it.

All I need is an in, Whitlock, give it to me.

“My mother is fine. Let’s talk about Kace.”

“Another man with mommy issues. Go on, what about Kace?”

“Security footage from Darkwater has shown that you two had an altercation in the hallway where you relieved yourself on his jumper. Want to tell me about that? For someone who doesn’t know who Kace is, you two looked well acquainted.”

“Oh, that’s Kace? I wouldn’t have known since we all go by ‘inmate’ in a prison setting.”

“Your deflection is deplorable.”

“So are your attempts to impress your mother when she couldn’t care less about her… mmmm… middle son. You have an older brother that hung the moon and a little sister who mommy spends all her time on because she wanted a girl sooooo bad. Am I hot or cold, Detective?”

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