“Do you think I’d deny them the same warm embrace of our God?”
“They’re children,” I grind out between gritted teeth.
“Are you going to pretend to care about children now? Because I, too, remember everything.” He takes a measured step back. Away from me. Towards the sliding door. “I remember how many times you said you hated them. But you never actually hated them, did you? Just hated the thought of them. Hated they’d grow up to be just like you.”
“You’re going to let your own child die?”
He steels himself. “He will stand beside me on the day of judgement.”
“You don’t even believe in Ascension,” I scream. “You always said Magnus was full of shit. How the hell have you fallen this far in the six months I’ve been gone?”
“He made me see the light.” He shrugs with apathy. “See, I still think about it sometimes.”
“Think about what?”
“Think about you when I’m fucking your sister.” He approaches again, closing the distance between us in an instant. “Think about the way those lips felt around me.” He squeezes my cheeks with an iron grip,prying my mouth open. I probably look like a fucking fish and he kisses me anyway. Forces his tongue into my mouth. Wet, hungry. Chews hard at my bottom lip before breaking away. He cleans his lips with a sweep of his arm. “It disgusts me.”
“So, you’re going to kill everyone in this fucking place because you hate yourself?”
“I’m saving everyone in this place from the wickedness that’s swallowing this world whole.” He walks away while continuing to drone on, “You share blame in this, by the way. The FBI has been poking around ever since you blew Magnus’ brains out. When they show up and find almost two hundred bodies, I want you to think about that. Your actions brought about this day of reckoning faster than any of us could have predicted.” He turns on his feet when he reaches the sliding door. “When you’re taking your last breaths, I want that to be the last thing on your mind.”
“Silas,” I beg. “Don’t do this.”
“I’m bored now, so someone will come take you to your cell.” He slams the door shut. But on the other side of it, he yells, “See you at Ascension.”
And then I’m alone again.
Guess I’ve always been alone.
I angle my head down to mouth my lips over the fabric of my shirt, desperately trying to clean the stench of Silas from my flesh. Try to wash away the sin, not of kissing a man, but rather the fact that it wasn’t Noah.
CHAPTER 19
NOAH
Days gone by,eating away at my body and mind. If this lovely holiday they call Ascension wasn’t on the cusp, I think I’d die in this cell. There’s no clock, no way of knowing how fast the minutes tick by as time winds down to zero. The light that filters through the hole across the hall is the only thing I can use to try and decipher how long we have left. An hour or two, at most. Three, if this god of theirs wants to drag out the suffering any longer.
I’m not afraid to die. Not after having spent so long contemplating it. It’s the idea that my death is out of my hands that pains me, grates me, pisses me the hell off. I’ve spent so long making sure I’m always in control that going out on someone else’s terms is the worst fate imaginable.
The stone floors are still damp fromour showers this morning. And by shower, I mean the cold water from a hose sprayed at us while we scrubbed our naked bodies in front of our keeper. Seven quipped that the man was enjoying the show and shook his dick at him. Now, we’re dressed in our Sunday best—white button-up shirts, black slacks, and ties that are yet to be tied.
The door at the top of the stairs creaks. Sunlight filters down the narrow entrance as the same stoic man brings us our food. The same man who released Seven’s sister from her cage.
Seven says his name is Rory, but Rory doesn’t ever respond when I try to talk to him, when I ask questions, when I scream at him. He slides another tray of slop underneath the iron bars. The tray collides with the rest of them, landing with a clink. A nine-tray pileup of biscuits and gravy, but the only casualties are wasted food. He tosses a bottle of water through the gaps between bars.
He does the same for Seven, sliding him a portion of food and a bottle of water that will remain untouched. Seven is in his hunger and thirst strike era, claiming the offerings are most definitely poisoned.
Rory departs without so much as a word, taking the sunshine with him when he slams the door. When he’s gone, I grab the bottle of water, twist the cap off, and down it in one chug.
Then I look over to my own personal sunshine, sitting on the opposite side of theiron bars that separate us. Seven, ever the sharer, gave me the complete rundown of his relationship with Silas. Every little bit, most of which I had no interest in hearing.
He’s not sunshine anymore. Gone is his smile, his questions, his wit. What remains is a hollow shadow of the boy that brought the sun back into my life. He reads the letter his sister wrote for the hundredth time. Bangs his head against the stone wall behind him, lost in thought.
“You’re going to give yourself a concussion,” I scold him. “That’s code for fucking stop it.”
His eyes shift sideways with a barely audible laugh. “Yes, Daddy.”
“And don’t forget it.” I whip my dick out, aim at the rusted metal toilet, and unload a stream of dark yellow piss into it while glancing over my shoulder. “Did you decipher some hidden code? Is there a secret escape scrawled out in random capitalized letters?”
