“I will not die! I will not rot! I do not go into the dark like common men!” he hisses when I jam the gun harder, forcing his head back, yetstillhe prays. “Pull me back, Symme! Stitch my soul tight! Feed on the weak! NOT ME! Don’t you dare take me! Don’t you—”
The squeeze of the trigger feels so right in that moment, the crack like a whip, echoing across the clearing as blood sprays up like a fountain, before showering down on my grandfather’s lifeless body that slumps down onto the gravel.
Hysterical screaming takes a moment to pierce the bubble I’m in, but when I refocus on the here and now, I recognise the grating sounds. My mum and my little sister, Maggie.
Glancing over at my mum, I see her struggling against the hold two Sadists have on her arms, her eyes trained on her father now lying dead.
I feel no remorse for what I just did, nor do I feel the anger of my monster. I just feel right.
That man was toxic. His venom reached so much further than I could have ever imagined. There is no place in this world for people like him. And there’s no place in this world for people like my mum, so I lift the gun again, and aim it directly at her.
33
“Who is Brian Bates?!” I scream as I storm forward, my gun raised at my mum, whose face is red in anger, tears wetting her cheeks, sneering at me.
“You wicked bitch!” she cries, not even caring that I press the barrel of my gun to her forehead. “You killed him! You killed our saviour! The world will rot now, all because of you!”
“Mum! Stop!” Maggie screams from the other end of the row of containers, being held back by one of the men, and a Doxy. “Just pray! Symme will protect us!”
I nearly choke on my scoff as I glare over my shoulder at her, but Maggie’s tear-filled eyes are determined as she starts to bloody chant again.
“The line. The blood. The flame. Symme.”
“The line. The blood. The flame. Symme.”
“The line. The blood. The flame. Symme.”
Shit… she’s so far gone. Rewiring her brain is going to take a lot. I don’t know how to do that, but I’ll make sure I can find someone who can. She’s never even had a chance to learn what’s on the other side of this.
Normalcy. Freedom.
Shifting my glare back to my mother, I ask her what I want to know again.
“Who is Brian Bates? He has the same surname you’ve been using as your maiden name. How are you associated with him?”
She scoffs, her glare locking with mine as her lip curls in disgust.
“You mean whowasBrian Bates?” she snaps. “Because he’s dead.”
“So youdoknow him?”
She draws back, and before I know what’s happening, she spits in my face, the warm wet droplets slapping my skin, leaving me in momentary shock.
“He’s none of your concern!” she screams, and my patience snaps.
I grab her by the front of her blouse and drag her to me until we are nose to nose, my gun shifting to her temple as I bare my teeth.
“Who the fuck was he?!”
“He was your uncle!” she screams back in my face. “We used the same fake last name when we were both banished!” she yells, spittle flying from her lips. “That useless man nearly exposed everything when he got caught!”
I launch back from her, air getting trapped in my lungs for a moment, and I fold in half, trying to breathe.
“Angel.” Ringo’s hand is on my back in an instant, his warm gentle touch reminding me that I’m not alone. “Let me do this for you.”
I shake my head, air finally seeping in, and my glassy eyes meet his.
“Rhys is my cousin.” I breathe, a sense of calm washing over me.
