Adam swallowed hard, and the darkness of the long corridor behind him seemed to encroach at him. “Once they’re done with… do you want to do the same with me?”
Gabriel stilled, and the dagger instantly felt heavier in his hand. Would he have the conviction to plunge it into Abadd—Adam’s!—heart? How was he to answer such a question when his whole being already missed the touch of this bastard’s warm hands?
“Why would you even offer that?” he snarled, at loss.
Adam’s throat bobbed, and the broad, strong shoulders that not long ago had felt so steady, hunched in submission as he stood in the ray of light sneaking in through a window. “Because maybe I deserve that if I hurt you, whether I remember or not.”
Gabriel’s mouth dried, because his heart longed to believe Adam. But his story just didn’t add up. He knew everything about the terrible things done to Gabriel, remembered secret passages, knew how to drive, and how to break locks.
And yet there he was, staring back with such desperation all Gabriel wanted to do was stroke his cheek in reassurance. Only that nothing was the same. Once their murder spree was over, they’d both go to prison for acts of vigilante justice.
The click of heeled shoes froze them both, but it was too late to run.
“Gabriel? What are you doing out here at this hour?” Sister Beatrice’s sharp voice smacked him like a whip. “Looking for your cat again? I told you what I think of that pest!”
Adam spun around in time to face the nun as she stormed out of the staircase, breathing in to deliver a sermon. Instead, she stalled like a basalt statue in the empty hallway.
“Who… Who are you?” she asked, frowning, but her face betrayed curiosity rather than fear of the stranger creeping in her home after dark. Gabriel wasn’t sure what Adam’s role had been other than watching kids get tortured, raped, and killed, and he didn’t want to know, but recognition glinted in the nun’s eyes as she realized she was facing one of the Keys.
Sister Beatrice finally got her voice back, and when she spoke, it was as stern as ever. “You shouldn’t be here! You’re no longer required!”
Adam’s chest rose as he inhaled, but when he faced her and spread his arms like Jesus presenting his wounds after resurrection, his body language changed. “Not required? Sister Beatrice, your Lord is here.”
Ignoring Gabriel, she pulled a knife out of the folds of her habit. “Go to Hell where you belong! You ruined everything and I won’t let you do it again!”
What. The. Fuck.
“Put that down,” Adam said in a soft voice, like that of a priest reading a psalm during mass, and reached out toward her. “You may yet be forgiven, like you had been when you first gave up on your sinful life and listened to Father John’s word.”
Uncertainty flashed in her eyes, and she stepped closer, relaxing her shoulders. She lowered her weapon and exhaled as dark shadows of the designs embedded in the nearest window criss-crossed her form. “May I touch you? Could this really be you? The Lord of Locusts himself?”
Gabriel hated that the thought of anyone touching Adam still stirred up a deep and ugly jealousy in him, but he bit his tongue and watched the reunion of monsters, increasingly creeped out.
Adam was dedicated to his act and moved toward the nun without hesitation. “Of course. You’re one of my chosen people, and once the ritual is completed, I shall gain the powers to transform this rotting world.”
He knew exactly what to say, and Gabriel’s lips curled into a scowl.
“Is he… joining us, Lord Abaddon?” she asked, pointing to Gabriel and gently put her hand on Adam’s side.
Just as Gabriel was about to spit at her for suggesting something so vile, Sister Beatrice lunged at Adam, stabbing the knife at his stomach.
“No!” Gabriel cried, and before he could even think, he threw himself between them, shoving the blade away with his arm.
A strange numbness overcame his flesh, and he stepped back, deafened by his own heartbeat. Time slowed when Sister Beatrice spun around, trying to run off, but Adam was faster, and she didn’t get to reach the stairs. With one hand covering most of her face and the other on her throat, he was about to break her neck when she dropped the knife and pulled up the front of her spacious dress.
Panic clutched at Gabriel’s throat, and he gave a weak shriek, alarming Adam enough to look his way.
“She’s pregnant! She’s—you can’t kill her,” Gabriel uttered, taking in the big, rounded belly the nun had so easily obscured with her roomy habit.
Adam’s features twisted, and he dug his fingers into her cheeks as his attention focused on Gabriel. “You’re bleeding.”
Gabriel blinked and only then stared at the arm he couldn’t feel.