No Justice for the Damned (Tales from the Tarot)

11. Chapter 11

Chapter eleven

H ollow is gone when I awake. It’s morning, the sun shining through the curtains. Black lace. I hadn’t noticed them last night. There were so many things I didn’t notice when Hollow was dropping me on the bed and having his way with me. Or perhaps it was me having my way with him. Flashes of what we did last night run through my head. His throat squeezed under my tightening grip. His cock pulsing inside me.

I blink, taking in my surroundings. A framed picture of some “priceless” but absolutely hideous flowers in a vase hangs opposite the bed. More black wallpaper and gold embellishments. A clock on the wall blinks 7:00am. My deadline approaches. I have barely more than eight hours before Father will call on me, ask for proof that I’ve prevailed. That I’ve killed Hollow.

I have no intentions now of completing that mission. Of taking any order from Father ever again.

It’s early enough that daily Mass still hasn’t begun. Soon, Father will be engaged in preaching to the congregation. Distracted. And I’ll have an opening. I need to take it.

I slip out of bed, careful not to make a sound just in case Hollow is somewhere inside the apartment. I don’t want to talk to him this morning, don’t want to face him. Not now. I need to get away from here to think. To process. To contemplate what the hell I’m going to do about this whole mess.

I should probably call Abe as well. Apologize for what happened last night. For everything else as well.

And more than that, I have some investigation of my own to do. The cages from last night haunt me, as do the shapeless, ghostlike faces of the children I imagine behind those bars. Father likely has information on all of them, where they went, where they came from, who they were. He’s meticulous that way. And if that information exists, I know where he’ll have stashed it.

What I’m going to do with it, I’m not sure. I’m certain Hollow would make use of it. He seems hell-bent on getting all the information he can. I could go to the police with what I find, but then…Father seems to have half of the New Mason PD under his thumb. And worse, will that information implicate me? Do I really care? I deserve it, don’t I? How many people have I killed on Father’s orders? How many of those people were working against his cruel mission or desperate to get out?

I pad quietly out in the hallway and head to the bathroom where I hung up my wet clothing from last night. Instead of being strung up over the shower rod where I left them, my jacket, pants and undershirt are all folded neatly in a pile on the toilet. My phone is plugged into a charger on the bathroom sink. Hollow.

I don’t have time to be thankful or suspicious. Holding my breath, I retrieve my phone, unplugging it to see the screen flash with new text messages and notifications.

From Father:

Time is running out, Killian. Is it done?

I’ve also missed seven calls, the last one from about 15 minutes ago. All from Father. Nothing from Abe.

My fingers shake as I scroll through the last several text message conversations I shared with Father. Him asking me the status of my arrival. When I would be home. Always transactional. Nothing at all to indicate that he sees me as anything more than a pawn, a tool. An object.

I could crush my phone in my hand.

I know what I have to do. Closing myself in the bathroom, I slip out of Hollow’s borrowed clothes and put mine back on, glad they’re now fully dry. Then, as I go to slip my phone into my back pocket, I still. The note from the Owner of the Magic Shop —I’d almost forgotten. My heart skips a beat as I retrieve and unfold it, my eyes scanning over its contents.

In a lovely, flowing script like something you’d see on some sort of ancient, historical document, are the words, If you lack the answers you desire, perhaps another visit.

I blink down at it. Is he suggesting that Hollow hasn’t been entirely forthcoming? That he’s keeping something else from me? I thought they were friends of sorts? Although what kind of friend doesn’t even give his first name? I shrug and tuck the note away again. I don’t have time to dwell on it right now.

As I emerge from the bathroom and head down the hallway to the foyer, I can see it’s empty but not without signs of life. A pot of coffee has been brewed and a note on the table indicates this was done for me.

Kill,

Not sure how you take your coffee but there’s cream in the fridge and sugar in the cabinet.

Help yourself to whatever you want.

Thoughtful but unnecessary. I run on nicotine and adrenaline. And the occasional fruity energy drink. Coffee leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Besides, I don’t have time to dawdle. It’s still early and I need to get to the Church.

The sidewalk is still wet from the rain, the sun barely risen in the sky, as I mount Delilah and urge her into gear. I’m in a daze as I race through the streets, churning over everything I know. Everything that’s become real to me in only a matter of twenty-four hours.

Everything Father ever told me was a lie. These truths repeat themselves over and over in my head until they’re all I can think about.

By the time I get to the Church, cars are lining the streets and filling the parking lot for 8:00am Mass. I can hear the hymns and psalms filtering out into the fresh morning and wonder if Father is at the front, standing on the dais leading worship. I park Delilah around the back, hidden behind the dumpster and sneak toward to the rear entrance, holding my breath the entire time.

The door is locked but I pick it easily, a skill I’ve acquired through my many years in Father’s service. As I scale up the steps that lead to Father’s office, I keep my senses on high alert, waiting for anything, anyone, who would alert Father to my presence.

Father’s office is at the top of the stairs, on the highest level, near the bell tower. It’s the one room in the entire church in which Father spends the most time, where he keeps all his important documents and records of his transactions. I used to think they detailed the locations of the Drug import and exports—now I think it’s more likely that’s all to disguise the locations of the children, who bought them, how much Father stood to make from each individual transaction.

As well as the warehouses where they’re all being kept before they’re sold.

Would he keep those records if they implicated him? Does he truly think himself above all repercussions?

I scale closer to his office door, hardwood and carved with an intricate biblical depiction of Abraham and Isaac on the mount, moments before the intended sacrifice. I press my ear to the wood, listening for any sound of life on the other side. Nothing. Checking the handle, it’s locked as I expected. Once more looking around, I bend to pick the lock.

“Father said you’d come.” I whirl around to see Eli smirking at me, arms crossed over his broad chest as he appraises me slowly, eyes roving my body, up and down. I didn’t hear him approach. I’m not sure how that’s possible. But then, perhaps Father has these halls enchanted. What did Hollow say about the Church being a haven for his power?

I glare at him, returning to my feet. “What do you want?”

“Oh, nothing. Just doing my job. Keeping grabby little fingers away from Father’s important things.” He studies his nails, a gesture of indifference but I can practically feel his excitement radiating off him at the thought of grappling with me. Putting his hands on my skin again.

But I’m healed now. Thanks to Hollow, I feel stronger than ever. If he tries anything, I’ll kill him. With pleasure.

“Father’s things are my things. I’m his son.”

“Are you? I was under the impression you were proving your trustworthiness. And this,” he gestures to the door, to my guilty posture, “doesn’t seem like something a loving son would be doing. Sneaking into daddy’s office with a lock pick in hand.” He tsks his lips and smirks at me. “Naughty, naughty. Does the naughty boy needs to be taught another lesson?”

“Try it,” I say, my tone level. “I owe you from the last time you touched me.”

He chuckles. “I’ll never forget it.”

“Good. Hang on to that memory. You’ll never get another chance. Because the next time we fight, you’ll die.”

He leans into my space so my back hits the door behind me. “You think so? You really think you can beat me in a fight?”

“In a fair fight. There’d be no contest.”

“Eli. Did you find a rat in my office?” That voice causes my heart to sink into my stomach. “Welcome home, my son.” The words sound like poison, they’re almost venomous, the way he spits them at me.

“Father.” There are so many things I want to say to him, so many confrontations I want to have. But they feel like ash, smoldering and heavy on my tongue. “No Mass today?”

“Not for me, no. Father Alexis is leading the congregation.”

Abe’s handsome priest. I straighten, doing my best to remain stoic and unflinching. “Won’t the parishioners miss you?”

“Oh, surely. But I had more pressing matters. Your deadline. Seems you owe me a report.”

Eli glances between us, his grin still present. Father nods at him and then slips a key into the door as Eli steps aside. “Wait outside. Don’t come in unless I call you.”

“Yes, Father.”

And then he ushers me into his office. The room I’d been determined to get inside. And shuts the door behind us.

In the empty air that hangs between us exists a tension, so thick I could choke on it. Instead, I let the silence surround us as he heads to his desk, and turns to sit upon it. Crossing his arms, he faces me, expression cold and unreadable.

“You’ve failed me.”

I don’t flinch. Refuse to allow him to see weakness. “I didn’t kill Hollow, no.”

“Is that not what I asked of you? And yet you come back here now, arrogant and unashamed. You stand before me like you have nothing to apologize for.”

“Do I?”

He ensnares me in that unblinking, crystalline gaze. It’s sharp and hawk-like, cruel. I don’t remember ever thinking that gaze cruel. But now it’s all I can see.

“He bested you, did he? The snake in the grass.”

“He didn’t. He didn’t need to.”

“No?”

“He showed me things. Things I should have known before. Things you kept from me.”

Father’s brows narrow as he stares me down, tight lipped. “Lies. Falsehoods. Fantasies born out of a sickened mind.”

“No,” I say. Once, I thought the man standing before me to be my salvation, my everything. Now, for the first time, I see him for what he truly is.

“And what sort of things did he show you, this Hollow? This street rat turned thug? This uneducated nobody?”

I bristle. “He showed me the truth. What you did. To him. To me. To Abe.”

Those eyes widen as he steps nearer to me. “And what did I do to you, ungrateful boy? Other than save you? Raise you? Give you a roof over your head and a purpose?”

The words threaten to choke me, to strangle me as they escape my mouth. They taste bitter and gray, but I spill them nonetheless. “You sold me. Sold my body. When I was young. You let other men touch me. Do things to me.”

“What vile, slanderous allegations. Falsehoods. That you’d even allow him to put such thoughts into your head.” His face contorts with rage, with shock and disgust. As if he wasn’t the one forcing those things upon me. As if he wasn’t the cause of all of it.

“I saw it!” I stammer. “Felt it! And I saw the cages. In the warehouses. I saw where you keep…them.”

A chill runs between us, stifling and silent. “Them.”

“The children.” Silence falls between us and for a moment, I think he might break, confess. Beg my forgiveness. But instead, he hardens.

“You throw these horrific accusations around. As though you haven’t been thoroughly cared for all your ungrateful life.”

A lump of emotion wells in my throat. “The Drug. You used it as a front for you’re really doing. Trafficking children. Using the Drug to keep them quiet, make them forget.”

“This is ridiculous. Are you really this gullible? This easily fooled by a charlatan’s tricks?”

I won’t let his gaslighting provoke me. I know it was real, everything Hollow showed me. Everything I saw with my own eyes like a horrible nightmare I couldn’t escape. “And Abe. You tricked me. I’m complicit. We kidnapped him. He’ll never forgive us for—”

My next words are stolen from my mouth as he slaps me hard across the face. I stumble back, clutching my cheek, more from the shock than the pain. “How dare you.” His eyes burn with a fiery rage. I feel his aura now, so clearly. Just as I felt Hollow’s. I’ve never felt it before. Not like this. But it crackles and shifts and threatens all around me. Hissing and dark and malicious, creeping in from the shadows.

My eyes flicker to the hand that struck me. The ring. “I know what you are, Father. I know what’s in that ring. The power it gives you to own the spirits of those you’ve tortured and killed. Souls of the children you sold.”

He surges forward and seizes me by the hair, yanking me forward and I don’t try to fight him. We stare at each other for a long, hard moment. “You were my good boy. My easy boy. My obedient—”

“Because I never refused you? Never questioned or rebelled? I worshipped you! I would have done anything you asked. And I did. Even when you asked me to get in bed with your allies. Your enemies . To give my body to protect my brother’s! Is that why you decided to keep me rather than auctioning me like you did Hollow? Tell me why. Why Abe and I were so special! You never loved us. So why even bother keeping us at all?”

“Shut your mouth!” He slams a hand over my lips, pressing down hard, stealing my breath. But I’m stronger than him. I can overpower him. I begin to push him back, grabbing hold of the hand that covers my face, tightening my grip on his fingers.

I shove forward and for a moment, I think I’ve upended him, sent him sprawling. But then, as if propelled by sheer rage, he thrusts back and I crumble under the weight of his shove. And when I fall to my ass in the floor, looking up at him, I don’t see Father anymore. I see something horrible. Something monstrous. His blue eyes shine crimson in the low light as though the flames of hell shoot from his very being. His handsome face has gone pale and gaunt, as though a horrific mask has settled over his features and his aura, his very person, seems to darken and grow, expanding like a demon in the small confines of his office. I want to cry out, to tear away, but I’m frozen, immobile, terrified, unable to breathe or to pull away.

And then he screams. It’s a horrible, shrieking sound, unearthly, inhuman. And from his slim, priestly form shoots out a power I’ve never before witnessed. Dark power like waves of crashing black and shadow. They surge toward me and surround me in a cold, electric shock. It’s so different than the hot energy of Hollow’s power. Almost like black ice, it’s frigid and overpowering and steals the breath from my lungs.

I crawl backward until my back hits the wall behind me, shivering as my arms wrap protectively, instinctively around my shoulders.

“Silly, stupid little boy. Are you happier now that you know? Is this what you wanted?”

He chases my shuffling with elongated, drawn-out footsteps and I notice the way his legs seem to have stretched and crooked at the knee. Like a wolf’s legs. Like a goat’s legs.

“You have made a grave error believing these horrible things of me. But if that is how you see me now, then so be it. I’ll be the monster you think I am.” His voice, usually so bright and kind, has gone down several octaves, become almost otherworldly, grating and deep. As though it comes straight from his belly, from deep within the dark recesses of his core.

“Did you not ever consider that perhaps there was a reason you had none of those memories?”

“Because you stole them from me,” I manage. “You erased them.”

“And for what reason, do you imagine?” His presence has overtaken the space, swallowing me up inside it so I can barely breathe.

“So you could rid yourself of the burden of your guilt. Not have to answer for what you did.”

He reaches out and clutches my neck in his now claw-like hand. His form has darkened, it’s almost like being grasped by a shadow. “Such a selfish little thing. Thinking only of yourself when all along I thought only of you. And your brother. Necessary evils were taken to ensure our way of life but I did my part to protect you from them. And this is how you repay me?”

“ Protect me?” I choke as his grip tightens around my throat.

“Don’t you think if there had been another way, I would have taken it? You. Abe. My children. My pride and joy. I love you both.”

“You don’t. You never loved us. You don’t do that to the people you love.”

His grip tightens so that I can’t breathe. The words are stolen from me. I feel my eyes bulge as that cold, immersive, all-consuming power flows into me, bringing me to the brink of unconsciousness.

“Everything I did was for us. The three of us. My family. If I sold your bodies, it was for your benefit. If I took those memories, it was to protect you from them. If I auctioned off others it was to keep you safe from harm. And if I kept you, it was because I loved you. I wanted my own family and I loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you.”

I try to shake my head but I’m held aloft, hanging now from his tight grip, my feet dangling, kicking fruitlessly.

“Yes. You were special, my sweet Killian. Unlike that wretch Hollow, the pathetic runt of a boy who only wanted attention. You shone like a bright light. So confident and poised and graceful. Like a pretty porcelain doll. I knew you’d be of use to me in more ways than one. And I was right. Up until you allowed Hollow to poison your mind, to turn you against me, you were my good boy. Loyal. Dedicated. Precise and articulate. Perfect. And now look how he’s changed you.”

I want to scream at him, to hurt him. To yell in his face that it isn’t Hollow’s fault that I’ve changed. He merely showed me the truth. And that truth spoke to my soul. Had I known back then all I know now, I would never have done the things I did. Never supported Father so blindly. God, I’ve been so blind. Such a fool.

My hands grip at his tightened fist, clawing desperately as black spots swim in my vision. I gasp and choke, but still, I hope all he can ready in my eyes is defiance. Hatred.

“You’ve forced my hand. I didn’t want to do this but I have no choice. I assume you’ve told Abraham what you’ve discovered.”

I don’t have to tell him that Abe already knew. He must see it in my face. Because he shakes his dark head, his fearsome mask cracking before me. “Abraham. My sweet Abraham. I loved him most of all. So be it.”

He releases me and throws me to the ground. I fall to my knees, choking, my strength sapped as though he extracted it from my veins. “Leave Abe out of this,” I gasp.

“Oh but he’s already very much involved, isn’t he?” Father seems to tire in front of me, his darkened, malignant form shifting back into the man I recognize. Once again, he stands before me handsome and youthful but weary, tired somehow. As though the usage of his power weighed on him even as it sapped my strength from me. “You made sure of that. You made sure to turn him against me.”

“He already knew,” I spit. “He hates you.”

Father raises a brow as he glares down at me. “Hate. What a strong, abhorrent word. No. I don’t believe my son, my sweet boy, hates me. But he will. You both will. And that hate will make me stronger. The pain of what must be done will make me stronger. It will be the last tie to be broken before I can transcend this mortal coil.”

His words don’t make sense but still they make me weak with fear. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Abraham will serve his most glorious and final purpose. His sacrifice will set me free. Though it will tear me apart to do it.”

I force myself to stand. To stagger toward him. “Don’t you dare touch him.”

“I won’t do anything. But you will.”

“What?” A shiver of true terror runs through me. Instinctively, I take a step away from him.

“You’re going to bring him here to me. And then, he’s going to be sold.”

“Sold?”

“A prospective buyer. One who’s been eyeing sweet Abraham for years. Since he was quite young. But I could never bring myself to part with him. I loved him too much. But now, you’ve left me no choice.”

“No.” My voice trembles as it escapes my lips. “That’s not happening.”

“It is,” he says, blue eyes resolute. His lip almost seems to quiver as he looks at me. “And I hate you for it.”

I surge forward, lunging at him, my fist raised to strike him. But as soon as it nears his cheek, it stops in midair. The force of the suspension makes my entire arm vibrate with tension as a jolt of pain shoots down my shoulder. “Damn you!”

“I’m already damned,” he whispers. “But so are you. For what we’ve done. For what we’re about to do.”

“Why?” I scream at him. “Why are you doing this?” I’m fighting him with everything I have, my entire body shaking.

“Because it’s the only thing I’ve ever truly wanted. My true purpose.”

“What?” I gasp.

“To become one with this power, to truly and fully succumb to it. To become a god myself.”

“You’re insane!”

He steps forward, past my extended fist, to stand directly in front of me. I can’t move or pull away as he places both hands on either side of my face and leans in to press a kiss to my lips. It’s not so different from the one we shared the last time he requested I retrieve Abe for him. The last time he requested I bring him home. But this time, I feel revolted, disgusted.

And immediately after he pulls away, I feel his compulsion tugging at me. “Bring Abraham here, Killian. Bring him to me.”

No. No. No. I can’t resist. I can’t stop this from happening. I feel my body straighten and respond to his command.

“Eli will escort you. You are to obey him. To follow his every order. No violence is to be used against him. Make sure you don’t fail me again.” He places a hand on my shoulder and ushers me to the door. As he opens it and leans out, I see Eli still standing on guard just outside. Doubtless he heard everything. And loved every minute of it.

“Eli, Killian has been instructed to bring our dear Abraham back home. By any means necessary. No bruises though. Our buyer likes a fresh slate of skin. Go with him, won’t you? Ensure he doesn’t wander off his course.”

Eli grins at me, sauntering closer.

“And Eli? If you succeed, you can have your reward. However you want him.”

Looking me up and down, Eli’s gaze rests on my groin for a long moment before flitting back to my eyes. He licks his lips as he says, “We won’t fail.”