Page 145
He can pretend all he wants, but I’ve seen his devotion to her. Tommy’s hinted at it, too.
I run my hand up his bare back. “Remy, what happened to you to make you darker than the black side of hell? What happened to Talia?”
He bites my lip and finishes our kiss. “Did Tommy tell you that? Because he needs to shut his mouth and mind his business. He doesn’t know shit.”
I exhale hard. “He cares about you. He loves you like a brother.”
He rolls off me and stares up at the light on the ceiling. “And that’s the only reason he gets to lay his hands on you.”
I let out a frustrated sigh as I lean up on my elbow, letting the blanket fall down my chest. “What happened to you and Talia? I deserve to know.”
He rubs his beard and shakes his head. “You don’t want to know.”
“This affects me, too, and other than embracing your fires and silly rules about sacrificing your lovers, I don’t know what we stand for. Does this have something to do with Father Malcom?”
“It’s embracing chaos, not fires.”
I give him a flat stare. “I want to be a part of this, but I need to know your secrets.”
He leans in closer. “You shouldn’t…want to be a part of this, that is.”
“Remy…” I breathe.
He takes a deep, nervous breath. “I’ve never talked about this with anyone. Not even Talia after it happened. And especially not Tommy.”
I narrow my eyes, a squirmy sensation hits my stomach. “Okay.”
He glances at the large window that overlooks the forest and wickedness that lies beyond. Branches slide against the glass, breaking our silence and he begins, “When I was young, the Order would get together a few times a year, usually at our house. Sometimes my father would let me stay, and when they drank too much and started talking about things I didn’t understand, he remembered that I was still there and would kick me out. I never went to bed; instead, I listened through a vent, and one night, I heard them talking about what they did to those girls. Bragging about murder, detailing how they did it while they puffed on their cigars. I pieced everything together after I found a box of obituaries in my father’s study. Each of them killed their high school sweethearts and got away with it.”
“How old were you when you found this out?”
“Nine.”
My heart weeps for him.
He sighs, his guilt-ridden eyes pinned on mine. “I knew about the Order for years before Talia did. It excited me, seeing how much power they held. I knew that power was going to be mine one day—I felt it in my veins—so I kept their secret. Eventually, my father caught on that I knew and cornered me about it.”
“What did he do to you?”
He slides his knuckles along my cheek. “They embraced me. I gave my blood oath that night. They were so powerful, rich, and egotistical. I wanted to be like them.” His jaw ticks and his eyes glaze over. “I didn’t realize at that time that half of them didn’t belong there. That most of them were blood-thirsty old pricks who liked to fuck little girls. My old man broke every rule.” His eyes flicker up to me. “We’re not the only families in town who know the secret.”
I slap my hand to my mouth as the realization hits me. “Father Malcom.”
He curls his lip. “Talia was in high school when she became his obsession. He would watch her at town events and barbeques when all the new members would get together. She was naïve then, innocent. Not like she is now, but she liked his attention. She’d go with him into the woods when she thought no one was looking.”
A bubble of emotion as the memory of killing that man overwhelms me.
“It happened over the entire summer. He was so high on lust and power, he didn’t think anyone would notice. And since Father Malcolm was such a powerful figure in town, my old man let it happen. He marked her Didi…that bastard marked her for death.”
“You didn’t say anything?”
His jaw flexes. “I thought she was pathetic, or a slut. I didn’t know or care. She started crying all the time, and it just pissed me off.”
“Remy…”
Emotions bubble to the surface. “It gets worse, Diana. It gets so much worse. Eventually, his wife found out. He lied about the entire thing, saying that Talia was the one who pushed herself onto him. That she needed Jesus in her life. So, my father and stepmom forced her to Sunday school, right into the arms of his jealous wife, who was already mortified and humiliated. They saw her mark, the mark he gave her, and they decided that she needed to die.”
The taste of metal infiltrates my tongue. “What did they do to her?”
