I absolved the sick of their sins. I cured them of the disease plaguing their brains and taught them to be friends with their demons.

  Some were strongly resilient with their vows of silence, refusing to speak of what they had done.

  They were far too ashamed or afraid to face their sordid truths.

  That’s where I came in.

  With the right method, you could summon the most stubborn of demons, exorcising someone’s soul in the process.

  Tapping my fingers against the manila folder in front of me, I skimmed over the details one final time. It was essential for me to know everything I could about the people brought to my institution.

  My eyes darted to the high definition monitor mounted on the corner of my desk where four boxes showed me different areas of the manor, changing to another view every few minutes.

  A second monitor was mounted on the other side. A third hung from the wall.

  All areas with the exception of a few bedrooms were under heavy surveillance.

  Right now, all I cared about was the front lawn. The vessel for my absolution was taking a stroll, soon to fall down a hole so deep she’d never leave the hell I’d created. She’d never leave me.

  Her shiny hair gleamed, the dark strands hanging down over her shoulders nearly to her waist.

  The black Malignant attire looked fucking fantastic on her. Though I’d rather see her naked.

  Three quick rasps sounded against my office door, forcing me to look away from Faith’s pouty pink lips as it swung open.

  “What is the point of knocking if you’re just going to come in anyway?” I sighed.

  “It’s a courtesy knock,” Bishop replied with a grin, still walking into the room uninvited, going straight for my mini bar.

  Pope wasn’t far behind him, his face set in its usual state of indifference. It was nothing to be concerned about. From the day I’d met him he’d had that same expression. He was a loyal bastard and someone I considered a dear friend.

  He shut the door and then sat in one of the unoccupied leather chairs across from me.

  “Anything new we need to know about?” Bishop asked, readying our customary shots.

  “No, it’s all just as we discussed.”

  “You ready for this?” Pope questioned, stroking his silvery beard.

  “I’m more than ready. This has been a long time coming.”

  “And don’t we know it,” Bishop cut in, striding back over with three shot glasses in his hands.

  He handed one to each of us, keeping the last for himself. I held the Jack just beneath my nose, inhaling the strong aroma of alcohol.

  Almost exactly three years ago, everything changed. I buried my baby brother and I discovered a few people’s dirty little secrets.

  It was nothing other than a righteous turn of fate that placed me in the position I was in.

  I’d been doing this since I was twenty-four. Seven years later and I’d never let my personal issues bleed into my work, but this time was different, they correlated.

  This time it was for Sam, the baby brother I had to bury at just nineteen years old.

  For Skyler, for Faith, and for myself.

  “Here’s to absolution.” Bishop held his shot up and, Pope and I did the same, throwing them back together.

  I swallowed the burn, relishing the slight sting in my chest. My eyes found their way back to the screen where Faith stood staring up at the bell tower.

  “What about that one?” Bishop asked.

  I followed his stare to the portion of the monitor that showed the bedroom where Camilla was being held.

  She was sitting on the edge of the bed plaiting her mahogany hair. This was a much better improvement from the pacing she’d been doing.

  I glanced at Bishop from the corner of my eye, instantly recognizing the look on his face.

  He and I were cousins, might as well have been brothers.

  We’d gone through multiple phases of life together—from crawling in diapers to discovering the joys of pussy, and later the elation that came with mayhem.

  So when I saw the way he was looking at the monitor, I knew just what he wanted, and I could see the appeal.

  Camilla was undoubtedly gorgeous. Her features made her seem almost doll-like.

  “She just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. I have nothing on her,” I finally replied.

  “Girl’s practically a saint,” Pope added.

  “Good. You know how much I love turning those saintly girls into sinners,” Bishop replied with a cocky smirk.

  Shaking my head, I pushed away from my desk and carried my shot glass back to the mini bar.

  “If you want her I suggest you make that clear to Kellie.”

  “Kellie knows her place.”

  That was far from true, but I would give him the benefit of the doubt. I already had one unruly bitch to deal with.

  Returning to my desk, I pulled open the center drawer and removed the silver box that held my cyclone blade.

  It was an heirloom passed down to me by my father himself. The three spiral cutting edges formed an incredibly sharp piercing point.

  I checked it was blood-free from its last use and then returned it to its box, snapping the lid closed.

  “You ready?” Pope asked, rising from his chair.

  “Yes. Let’s go give our new friends a welcome they’ll never forget.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Faith

  I walked the pathway around the mansion, barely listening to Megan ramble beside me.

  The sun beat down on us; a slight breeze lifted tendrils of damp her off my neck. A few birds flew this way and that.

  Had this been another time I would have loved to take it all in. It was peaceful outside while inside my head chaos reigned.

  If Amy’s murder was the equivalent of salvation, what did that mean for my wellbeing? Would death be awaiting my arrival at this chapel?

  Furthermore, would someone have really paid for me to be sent here?

  I didn’t know.

  Every question I had just dug me into a deeper hole and I didn’t have a single answer to get out of it.

  I partially blamed my faulty memory. I had no idea who I could have pissed off to such an extent. All I knew was that I’d hurt a lot of people.

  The ringing of the bell pulled me from my tumultuous thoughts. I looked to the tower, where the massive object swung back and forth.

  Those low and steady gongs shattered the peaceful silence, sounding oddly melodic. It was the worst kind of omen, cloaking something sinister in beauty.

  Like this house.

  Like…Ryker.

  Suddenly, I was hit with an overwhelming urge to flee and hide.

  Megan was still speaking, but I couldn’t hear a word.

  My eyes darted around the flat surface of the lawn, skimming over the cemetery sitting yards away.

  “Faith.” Megan’s hand gripped my shoulder and gave it a little shake.

  My lashes fluttered twice before I focused on her face. She studied me, eyes narrowing in concern.

  “Please don’t do anything reckless. Remain disciplined. Obey. Submit. You do that and you will want for nothing here. Whatever you do, don’t run away.

  “Survival may be subjective, but no one who's ever run from their demons has come back alive.”

  That was the most clear-cut explanation I’d gotten all damn day. And there was that word again, too… demons.

  I was aware we all had them, but I had no desire to become acquainted with mine.

  The mere thought of doing so only made my desire to run that much stronger.

  “If I’m going to die either way, why does it matter what I do?”

  “What?” Megan gave me an incredulous look. “Who said you were going to die? You shouldn’t allow yourself to be a victim so easily.”

  I processed her words, unable to come up with a reply. If I wasn’t a victim, what was I?

  Megan looked towards the bell tower and then took hold of my lower wrist. “Let’s go. We need to get to the chapel.”

  The walk seemed to take only minutes.

  Along the way, we passed multiple guards patrolling the ground. Their leering eyes made me feel ten times more exposed in the ridiculous uniform.

  I tried to concentrate on the layout of the land for future reference, still wanting an escape plan regardless of what Megan’s warning. But all I could think of was what I was about to walk into.

  We ended up by the portion of the house directly beneath the bell tower. As we approached what looked like a pair of church doors, my empty stomach churned with unease.

  Drawing closer, I could hear soft voices coming from within.

  One of the two guards posted right outside pulled the left door open and granted us entry.

  Megan thanked him with a seductive smile that had me side eyeing her as we stepped inside.

  The door shut behind us, emanating a soft resounding thud throughout the building. I blinked a few times as the sun was left behind us, my vision adjusting in result.

  When I could see again, I was met with curious stares from strangers. I took the time to skim over each, searching for my friends, taking in this new environment as I did.

  Aside from the rows of black pews on either side, the ‘chapel’ didn’t resemble any church I had ever seen before.

  The interior in its entirety was illuminated by blood red up-lighting and a few lit candles. Gargoyles were carved into the bases of wooden beams.

  At the very front of the chapel was what appeared to be a large stone alter held up by a winged beast similar to the ones in the paintings. The focal point of the building was clearly the large angel behind it.

  A wagon wheel chandelier hung above her. The twelve flickering candles held within shined an eerie glow down on the weathered and eroded state she was in.

  Her expression was vacant; tears of blood stained her cheeks. Beneath her resting hands was an upside-down torch. Carved into the bottom portion of the statue between her feet was one word: Malignant.

  It was beautiful…in a depressing way.

  My eyes shifted from the weeping angel to the small group of men sitting on my immediate right.

  All were dressed in suits, and all were watching me with silent interest.

  “Those are some of the anointed,” Megan murmured as we passed the row where they were seated.

  I nodded and kept moving.

  There weren’t nearly as many people inside as I’d been expecting. Two guards were standing on each side of the room, partially hidden in the shadows.

  A few rows further up were three girls dressed in the same red teddy as Megan. Two boys sat in their midst dressed down in slacks and black button-ups.

  They stared at me as if I were a filthy bum brought in off the streets.

  I stamped down the urge to give them both my middle fingers.

  “You will sit on the other side with the rest of the virulent,” Megan explained quietly.

  I looked to the left and instantly felt both a heavy sense of relief and heightened apprehension.

  Everyone from that morning was there, including Camilla and Lilly, all dressed in uniform. However, Marcy was missing.

  Not only was she missing but a man I never expected or desired to see again was sitting where she should have been. His bald head was the first thing I noticed. He used to have shoulder length curls. Both his eyes had been blackened and he had a busted lip.

  I couldn’t say if his injuries were from Ryker’s men or one of the various people he sold drugs to.

  It was his batch of heroin that Sam overdosed on, and the last thing I shot into my arm.

  His presence was confirmation enough that something bad was going to happen.

  Megan was still speaking when I abruptly broke away from her and hurriedly made my way between the pews to where the girls were.

  A little more tension lifted from my shoulders when I saw they were physically unharmed.

  “Thank fuck you’re okay,” Camilla rushed out the second I reached her side.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” The lie slipped through my lips effortlessly. I was the furthest thing from fine, but she didn’t need to worry about me.

  “Have either of you…”

  My sentence died when I glanced over my shoulder to see every single person on the right side of the room staring at us.

  “Sit,” Lilly urged. She grabbed hold of my hand and pulled me down so that I was wedged between them.

  I looked behind me, meeting Jeremy’s heavy-weighted stare with one of my own.

  “Not now,” he mouthed and looked away, which was odd and completely out of character for him. He was always straightforward, if not a bit brash.

  “Have you seen Marcy?” Camilla whispered, dragging my attention back to her and Lilly.

  “No, that’s what I was going to ask you two.”

  “Well, what did Ryker tell you?” Lilly asked.

  “He…” I paused and looked at her for a few silent beats until Camilla asked, “He what? What did he do to you?”

  Her honey-colored orbs scanned over me from head to toe, searching for any sign that something was wrong.

  “He didn’t do anything but lock me in a room. I haven’t seen Marcy since she was taken away by those guards.”

  I didn’t want to elaborate. Neither of them knew about me sleeping with him a few weeks ago and keeping that a secret seemed important for some reason.

  They definitely didn’t need to know he’d forced himself inside me, and how much I liked it. How wet I got for him and how I’d been seconds away from asking for more.

  “That’s what they did with us too. Maybe she’s still locked in hers?” Camilla wondered aloud.

  She didn’t sound very convinced of that, and I couldn’t disagree with her doubt. But there was something else I wanted to know right then. The question in itself made me once more think of Ryker’s words.

  Before I could ask, the chapel went abruptly silent; not a whisper or whistle of wind to be heard.

  I looked to those sitting on the right side of the chapel and followed their transfixed stares to a spot drenched in shadows.

  From it, Ryker and his two comrades emerged. They were no longer wearing their flashy suits, but long black robes. The man with black hair was carrying a long box.

  I watched along with the others as the three men came and stood directly in front of the stone altar. The box was placed in the center, then blocked from view.

  “Did you know Sam’s brother was a devil worshipper?” Camilla asked, speaking low enough for only me and Lilly to hear.

  “I don’t think he’s a devil worshipper. The book didn’t seem to be going in that direction.”

  “What book?”

  “The one in…nevermind.” I clamped my mouth shut when Ryker’s heated stare met mine.

  I hated the way my heart fluttered in my chest, even now after everything that had transpired between us.

  Standing before me, bathed in fluorescent red with an angel at his back, he looked like some kind of god.

  I curled my fingers into fists, feeling something else stir within me, something wrong and entirely inappropriate.

  He finally glanced away from me, the smallest smirk playing across his lips as if he knew exactly what I was experiencing.

  He began addressing the room as a whole, giving equal attention to the left and right side of his audience.

  “Today we have some new arrivals to welcome. A fresh batch of virulent souls that need to find their absolution or salvation, that have been chosen to be cured.”

  He settled on the section we were sitting, his gaze washing over each of us before honing in on one of the girls that were in the ballroom when I first woke up.

  “Susan, please come here.”

  Her posture went from slouching to ram-rod straight, dark curls bouncing from the jerky movement.

  “It’s all right.” He came forward with an outstretched palm and beautiful smile in place to reassure her.

  Why was he choosing this girl and not me? I shook my head as if the motion would dislodge that ridiculous question from my brain. It immediately bothered me as it should have never been something to wonder about.

  With obvious reluctance on her end, Susan slowly reached her hand out and rested it in his.

  Smile still in place, Ryker walked with her all the way to the end of the pew and led her back to where he’d been standing in front of the altar.

  He then turned her so that her back pressed against his front and they were both facing the room.

  “You’re all probably wondering why you’re here. Some of you are thinking of your families and if you’ll ever see them again. I’m going to be honest and give you the truth; you won’t. The life you knew outside of this institution no longer exists.”

  At his words, Susan released a sob and tears began to freefall down her cherub-like cheeks.

  “Shhh, relax. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” He soothed her in a low voice, using the pad of his thumb to wipe away some of her tears.

  A burn ignited in my chest as I watched him touch her in such an intimate way.

  I clenched my jaw and berated myself again. This wasn’t the time or place, but I couldn’t help it. I’d always gotten a little too possessive when it came to Ryker.

  He was the unobtainable. The forbidden fruit I should have never sunk my teeth into.

  In my mind, even as the saint of a man I thought he was disintegrated to show the devil before me, I couldn’t cut the cord that tethered me to the delusion that we belonged together.

  I shifted in mild discomfort on the wooden bench; the small movement was enough to garner his attention.

  Averting my eyes to the flats on my feet I pretended to be unbothered by what was happening. They went right back to Ryker when he began speaking again.

  “My name is not important as most of you won’t be breathing long enough to remember it.” He stopped and flashed a wicked smile. “However, my friends here like a bit of an introduction.

  Bishop.” He gestured to the man with black hair and green eyes and did the same in the direction of the man with predominately silver hair, calling him, “Pope.”

 

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