Father John rolled his eyes. “You should have come to me instead of bothering Mrs. Knight, who already has her hands full with the children.”
Behind him, Martinez picked one apricot from the basket he was holding and bit in so greedily some of the juice drizzled down his stubbly chin. He watched Gabriel with a desire that never failed to send shudders down Gabriel’s spine, and the thought of those sticky hands trailing over him, made Gabriel shuffle back.
“I’m sorry, I just thought she might know. Do you remember him, Father?” Gabriel asked, fighting for a steady voice in the face of these two demons in human skin.
Father John’s watery eyes scanned him from head to toe, and for a horrible moment Gabriel feared that the priest had access to his innermost thoughts. Without Abaddon here to save him, those two men could drag him away without being seen.
But just as nervous tears were about to roll down his face, Father John spoke, “He’s been adopted. He has no memory of the accident that killed the other children, but it changed his life. He figured God saved him for a purpose and became a priest. In fact, he is serving at a parish only two hours away from here.”
“I could take you out on a trip to see him, if you’d like,” Martinez added, consuming the fruit with dark eyes latched on to Gabriel’s body like two leeches.
Being alone with Martinez was the last thing he could ever want. Now that he’d experienced real intimacy, he couldn’t bear the thought of Martinez touching him. Even comparing the two almost made him gag. What Martinez had done was violence while Abaddon’s tender touch was love.
“No, thank you,” he mumbled. “Maybe another time.”
Martinez glanced at Father John. “He’s over twenty-one now, isn’t he? You ever take him out for drinks?”
Father John scowled and shook his head. “I don’t think alcohol would be the right path for someone in his fragile condition.”
This past week, Gabriel hadn’t felt fragile. For the first time in life, his world became steadier instead of constantly being at risk of crumbling. With Abaddon around, he felt empowered in ways he’d never experienced before, yet all alone with the two predators, he couldn’t find the courage within and itched to flee.
If Abaddon was there, would he cut both their throats and leave them in the reception area? Would he stain the windows with their blood as a warning to anyone wanting to follow in their footsteps? As exciting as the morbid fantasy was, Gabriel reluctantly agreed that killing them all in one fell swoop, once they gathered for the ritual, was a logical and practical choice for someone of Abaddon’s skill.
“I can’t drink with my medication,” Gabriel added to reassure Father John that he was still taking his placebo like a good little sheep.
“I’m happy that you’re being reasonable,” Father John said and reached across the counter to squeeze Gabriel’s shoulder with his cold hand. “Now get back to work.”
“Actually…” Gabriel hated that he felt guilty for making a request to a man so evil he shouldn’t even be walking this earth. “I’ve been feeling unwell. Would it be okay for me to only join Robin in the kitchen at lunch time?”
Martinez snorted as if he had any say in the running of operations at St. John’s. “Slacking, are we?”
Father John exhaled, dismissing Martinez with a gesture. “That’s fine, but don’t make it a habit.” As if he had ever gotten up before ten!
Gabriel nodded and watched him head off, tense as if his muscles had been weaved with metal. Martinez's tall form moved too, and Gabriel made the mistake of looking his way. The bastard dropped the fruit core to the floor and puckered his lips, sending Gabriel an unwanted kiss,
What a fucking menace. Gabriel couldn’t wait to see the man begging for mercy that wouldn’t be granted.
Gabriel’s thoughts galloped like a herd of wild horses as he rushed up the stairs, and they circled back to Harry. Could it really be that simple? While he’d been stuck here, Harry had not only gotten adopted but also lived a good life as a priest? Gabriel should feel happy for a boy who’d managed to escape the meat grinder, yet all he could feel was sorry for himself and his own lot in life.
Invisible hands crawled out of the darkest corners in his mind, grabbing at his flesh and choking him, and the unshed tears from earlier ran free. What had he done to deserve the life he’d gotten?
By the time he reached the right floor and stormed toward the Lucifer fresco, his lungs felt as if they were about to explode, and since the hallways were empty, he let himself sob.
A tall silhouette emerged ahead, but it inspired relief rather than fear, and he stormed straight into Abaddon’s arms.