Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 146722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 734(@200wpm)___ 587(@250wpm)___ 489(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 146722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 734(@200wpm)___ 587(@250wpm)___ 489(@300wpm)
“Father Burke,” the little girl said. The man’s eyes drank in the scene before him. Then he turned his unwavering gaze onto the boy. The boy had placed himself in front of the girl.
“Get back,” the boy said. His head ticked from side to side, eyes blinking too fast as that darkness, that inner monster he possessed, clawed to the surface.
Father Burke touched the children’s mother with his foot, only for her dead corpse to flop back down to the ground. A smirk tugged onto his mouth. “I came to see if your mother and stepfather had thought any more about their sobriety.” The priest edged further into the room, right past Diel. Diel tried to reach out and grab him, to wrench him back, but his hands couldn’t find purchase.
Diel’s breathing was choppy as the priest headed directly for the boy. The priest stopped dead before him and said, “You think I didn’t see there was a demon in your soul the first time I came here?” He looked past the boy to the girl, who was silently crying, gripping the boy’s soiled shirt like her life depended on it. “Both of you. Kissed by Satan himself, hidden away in this backward slice of the world.”
Diel shook his head. No, no, no …
The priest took out his cell and sent someone a message. He looked at the knife on the ground, then at the man who was nothing but a pile of ground-up flesh.
“Leave us alone,” the boy said, his voice laced with threat.
The priest held up a crucifix. Diel frowned. It wasn’t a normal crucifix; its pattern was markedly different. The Christ had a “B” carved into his chest. “You have been found, demon,” the priest said to the boy. “And you will be cleansed of your evil. Cast back from where you came by God’s true servants.”
The boy rushed forward to reach for the knife on the ground. But the priest grabbed his throat, and the boy’s weakened, starved state made him no match for the larger man. The priest lifted the boy off the floor, and Diel felt his head ticking from side to side, his hands balling into fists. Still the boy struck, fighting to protect his sister, who cried harder as she watched her brother in pain.
The priest dropped the boy to the ground; his body slipped on the blood. Then the door opened again, and Diel turned to see two more priests walking in.
“Police?” one of the priests asked, not even flinching at the dead bodies or blood-coated walls.
Father Burke shook his head, a grin on his face. “Not out here in the middle of nowhere. An easy capture for once.” One of the priests headed toward the girl. She froze, a deer in headlights.
“No.” The boy tried to get to his feet, slipping on the blood as if his soles were flooded with oil. The priest picked up the girl.
Diel’s heart beat faster and faster as the boy’s voice rose in volume and he scrambled to stand. The boy charged after the priest, but Father Burke held his arms behind his back. The boy fought and fought, tears making tracks through the drying blood on his face. The girl began to thrash as the priest led her toward the door.
“Finn!” she cried, reaching out for him. “Finn! FINN!” The boy fought, but Father Burke’s hold was too strong. The girl gasped for breath as she passed Diel. She looked him dead in the eyes. “Finn … please … help me … remember me …”
Every muscle in Diel’s body locked tight. He watched the girl being taken away. As she disappeared though the door, he looked at the boy … and Diel found himself looking straight into his eyes. Father Burke dragged the boy forward, but the boy never moved his stare from Diel.
Diel knew that stare. Those sapphire eyes. That black hair. He recognized the monster underneath the boy’s skin, revealing his claws. Diel began to feel hot. The pain in his head clawed its way back toward the surface. But this time it was lightning war in his mind. He clutched his head, trying to stop the thunder crashes, the clashing of dark clouds in his brain. But they were too strong.
The pain was all-consuming; he couldn’t breathe. But then he heard a whispered, “Help me … remember me …” He shook his head, trying to find relief.
“Come back to the hallway,” a voice said. But Diel couldn’t listen to it. All he could hear was the girl. The one who had been taken away. “Finn … help me … remember me …” He groaned, searching for air, for something to stop the burning in his lungs, the fire in his veins and the crushing of his skull.
“On the count of three, you will return. You will come back into the room where it is safe.” The voice was a whisper in a distant part of whatever hell he was trapped in.