At that moment, I knew we both felt the same way. Like small boys who were seeing our parents break down. We didn’t know what to do, where to turn, not when our constant was suffering, so we found solace in each other. As we’d often done over the years.
"You’re my brother, aren’t you?" I whispered to the soundtrack of my ma’s grief.
"Yeah," he replied just as quietly.
"I always thought you were anyway."
"Me too."
"Fitting, I guess. To find out tonight." I turned to him and reached up and drew him in for a hug. "No matter what, blood aside, you’ve always been my brother." I pushed my forehead against his and muttered, "Always, Finn."
He nodded, our foreheads dragging against each other, before he rasped, "Why don’t I think tonight’s going to end well?"
I pulled back and said, "Because you’ve got a brain between those big ears?"
He smirked, his teeth glinting in the meager light surrounding us. "Mine match yours."
Grunting, I turned back to my parents, and watched as the Archbishop began to take his last few breaths of air. I knew because they were slower, lethargic,strained.
My jaw clamped down as I watched, but then I couldn’t just watch. I couldn’t just let him die. Not when kids had suffered because of this bastard. Not just my brother, but only God knew how many.
And he’d allowed it.
He’d let it happen.
He’d even facilitated it.
Again and again.
Over and over.
It fueled me, much as the gasoline would fuel the fire that’d make the seat of this bastard’s archdiocese burn like the gateway to hell Da had declared it as being.
Like a phoenix who was reborn in flames, I needed that. I needed the Archbishop to die in agony just so he could experience a smidgen of Conor’s pain.
So I hobbled along to the Sanctuary, and I drew out my knife. It gleamed in the candlelight, and I prodded the bag with the tip, watching as air whistled in through that hole and Masters gulped it down like it was a torrent rather than a trickle.
Turning to my parents, I declared, "Let him feel the fire. Let it eat him alive." My jaw clenched again. "Just like it’s eaten Conor alive, and just like what we had to do has eaten us alive."
Finn rasped, "Hear, hear."
Da rumbled, "You dealt with McKenna, so it’s your decision, boys." He gritted his teeth. "I’ll even let you light the fire."
I shook my head, knowing they needed that release. "You can have that honor."
Stepping away from the altar, I retreated to Finn’s side, unaware that tears crawled down my cheeks, merely watching as the men stopped sloshing gasoline around the place, bringing it right to the altar. One of them went the extra mile and poured it on Masters too.
I was surprised when none of them argued because this was a sacred place, but like good children, they behaved themselves before Da told them, "Go and wait in the van."
They retreated like robots, silent and deadly ones, then Da pulled out a box of matches, and asked, "Lena?"
She took the box without a word.
Expecting them both to head down the steps to the aisle, to my horror, I watched as Ma didn’t move an inch away from Masters. Stayed right where she was as she lit the match and threw it onto the Archbishop.
A howl escaped him as he went up in flames, and the roar of the fire was so sudden it scorched my eyes as I staggered back, blasted by it. Finn too. My folks stood their ground as much as they could, watching him burn, until I yelled, "Get the fuck away from him!"
"What the hell are you doing?" Finn shouted, a scant second later.