Page 116 of Pieces of Ash
“My grandmother wouldn’t let her claim me.”
“Ah, yes. Your…grandmother, who is now happily living far away across the sea. There’s no one to corroborate your story,cenusa.”
“It’s the truth!” I cry. “You…youcan’tmarry me, Mosier. I’m your stepdaughter.”
His faces changes from amusement to anger in an instant.
“I don’t care if you’remy daughter by blood, you pious little bitch,” he spits. “You’restillgoing to be my wife.”
He reaches for the screen door handle, but before he can come inside, I push it open and sidestep out onto the porch. I look over his shoulder and see Anders standing in the driveway, at the foot of the steps. My eyes meet his, and he flinches.
All my life I’ve been told I look like her, but I’ve never felt it more strongly than now, face-to-face with my dead mother’s lover.
Finally—maybe when he can’t stand it anymore—Anders looks away.
“Where’s Damon?” I ask.
Mosier doesn’t leave his house without Damon, his second-in-command.
“He’s dealing with your fucking fed,” says Mosier, flicking his eyes down my T-shirt and jeans and then back up to my face. He looks over my shoulder at the dark living room. “Once he’s dead, I think I’ll fuck you here. Tonight. Bareback. See if we can’t get our family started sooner than later, eh,cenusa?”
My skin crawls, and I inch closer to the steps, to Anders. Leaning against the railing, I remind myself that just inside the front door, Julian has a gun. He won’t let me be taken.
“I don’thavea fed,” I say, but a second later, I’m startled by gunfire coming from the barn. Two shots are fired, and I gasp, waiting to see who walks out of the barn, Damon or Simmons.
The barn door swings open, and at first, I’m relieved, because I see Agent Simmons…but then I realize that his hands are laced behind his head, and he’s followed by Damon, who holds a gun to his back. There’s a dark spot on Simmons’s shoulder and it’s widening and dripping. He’s been shot.
“Good work, son!” yells Mosier.
“I knocked out the dog. What do you want me to do withhim?”
“Bring him here,” says Mosier, staring at me. “Maybecenusaneeds a reminder of how we handle men who dare to look at our women.”
Simmons crosses the driveway, his eyes on mine telegraphing nothing. He must be in pain, but his face is expressionless. Maybe he’s frightened. I certainly am. Nothing is going according to plan. How is Julian supposed to take on three men?
“He didn’t look at me,” I say, thinking fast. “He stayed in the barn. He was only there to protect me.”
Simmons stops in front of the car, head down.
“Protectyou? Then he’s worthless,” says Mosier, darting a glance at Damon. “Fuck him up.”
I watch as Damon takes the butt of his gun and slams it into Simmons’s temple. He gasps in pain, falling to his knees. Damon takes that opportunity to kick Simmons in the stomach, over and over. He takes the blows without a sound, lying on the ground, protecting himself by curling into a fetal position.
Damon pauses, running a hand through his dark hair, which is mussed from his exertions. “More?”
“Eh,” says Mosier, flicking his fingers. “He’s not screaming. It’s better when they scream.” He sighs, then turns to me. “Youknow who was a hell of a screamer? Your sister. Ah, forgive me. Your fucking tramp mother. She screamed like a fucking champion.”
My stomach flips over as I remember the sound of her screams coming from his study.
I sneer at him. “You are a monster.”
He reaches out and grabs me by the back of the neck. “I will be your fucking husband, and you will be respectful.”
“No!” I cry. “Fuck you!”
“Ahhh, listen to that dirty mouth! The apple don’t fall so far from the tree, eh?Cum e mama, e ?i fiica.” He pulls my face to his and licks my cheek slowly, starting at my jawline and stopping at my forehead. He whispers close to my ear. “I’m going to make you scream too.”
I struggle, but his grip is strong, and he keeps my face close to his.
