Undone: The Complete Duology, page 10
Or I could just kidnap her. I scoffed in the darkness, rivulets of rain coursing down my face. So much for assessment earlier that I was a patient, well-adjusted man.
Some days more than others.
The entire town had closed up for the night. I’d grown up in a place similar to this, with no nightlife, but even this seemed eerie. Perhaps it was psychological. Still, in my town, there would at least be a few teenagers out having a drink in a field, or someone slipping off to an immoral meeting. Here, everything was silent, so much so the sound of the rain coming down in sheets echoed through the streets.
Brian might not be dedicated enough to the cause to be out in this weather. In this situation, I might be the weird one, out wandering around in the frigid rain, hair slicked wet against my face, teeth chattering.
Hopefully, rain wasn’t pouring through the window I’d left open. I wasn’t sure how to explain mold in the carpet to Mrs. Woolworth.
Even my lips were cold. This was ridiculous. My hands shook, turning blue, until I switched off the light and slipped my phone back into my pocket before I dropped it on the asphalt.
Footsteps clunked behind me.
I spun around as a dark silhouette shot through the distant intersection. Something large, thrown over its back, thudded against its hip.
“Hey!” I charged after them, splashing in puddles gathered in small potholes.
I rounded the corner as they came to a halt down the street, leaning one arm against a building, catching their breath.
As I hurried towards them, they didn’t make a move until looking over their shoulder at me.
It was a woman. I didn’t know her, but she didn’t seem too concerned with me, so I slowed to a halt.
“Sorry to startle you, ma’am,” I said.
She spun to face me, laughing, but there was no humor to the sound. The bag on her back—a guitar case—bounced with the movement.
“You chase after me in the dark, but you didn’t mean to scare me?”
“I was looking for someone,” I said, by way of an apology.
She flopped her long, wet bangs out of her eyes. “Yeah, that’s the whole problem, now ain’t it?”
Fair point.
Now that I had a better look at her, she couldn’t be much older than Grace or the coven sisters. I wasn’t sure she was on the list of people to interview that Roberta had given me, but while I had her attention, perhaps she could help me out.
“I know this is an inconvenient time,” I said, gesturing towards the storm clouds spilling their guts, “but can I ask you a few questions?”
She shrugged, drenched. “Why not?”
“Thanks, I was just wondering…do you know anything about the disappearance of Robert Bruno?”
The woman’s expression flattened. “Don’t you know by now, none of us know what happened to Bobby?”
I started to respond—something about hope and due diligence—but she carried on.
“You know, he left us. He was the one who decided to ask for permission to leave, and when they denied him, he went to his mom. Of course she got her way. He knew she would. He knew he was leaving us behind, and they might not ever let him back. Didn’t matter to him, did it? I did everything for Bobby—everything he could have ever wanted, I gave it to him. And he left us.”
Her voice cracked with anguish.
I reeled back, trying to catch everything she had said—and not just what she had said, but how she had said it. My brother had wounded this woman in some deep ways that I couldn’t quite wrap my head around. She sounded more than a betrayed friend, an ex-girlfriend. He had ripped out her heart.
Perhaps she’d run into my brother after he returned to Thorn Tree. Was it possible she was responsible for his disappearance?
Could be, but the longer I sized her up, the harder I found that to believe. I wouldn’t cross her off my list of suspects yet though.
“I’m sorry,” I found myself saying, and I wasn’t sure if I was apologizing for keeping her out in the rain, or on behalf of my brother. “What’s your name?”
“Rose. My name is Rose, and no, I do not know where Bobby is. If I had to guess…”
She trailed off, but I didn’t even have to ask who she would implicate in the crime. Everyone thought Grace was the cause of everything bad in this town, but as far as I’d seen, she was the only redeeming trait in this godforsaken hole in the earth.
“Thank you for your time,” I said.
There was no point prolonging this conversation, especially with the rain chilling me down to the bone.
Her words had gone deeper.
She nodded once, then spun around, guitar case shifting, and hurried off into the darkness, splashing water as she went. I watched her until she disappeared around a corner and out of sight, then let out a puff of air.
I should go back to Honey and Hive, call it a night. There wasn’t anything dry left on me.
Instead, I wandered farther into town as if I kept going long enough, everything would make sense. My heart hurt for Rose, and that realization led me to the next, unwelcomed thought: who was Robert?
I didn’t know the legacy he had left behind in Thorn Tree, but now the truth was being revealed, bit by bit, and at its core was a picture of my brother. I just wasn’t sure what it depicted. To me, my brother had been an admittedly weird but genuine guy. I’d enjoyed getting to know him as adults, making up for the time stolen from us by our parents.
But Bobby had certainly made a mark in Thorn Tree, between Bethany’s unrequited love for him, and Rose’s heart smashed on the floor. I could imagine he’d been a lady’s man in Thorn Tree. He was quiet in New York City, but he’d been out of his element there. Here, he seemed to have been more popular than I had given him credit for.
High five, bro.
Still, I couldn’t shake the way Rose had been so distraught over his alleged abandonment of the town. The residents were strangely loyal to this place, so maybe her issue was nothing more than hurt pride.
The teeth chattering became full body shivers until my back hurt. I turned the next street, intending to make a wide U and head back to Honey and Hive. Enough for tonight: enough rain, enough mystery, enough mind-shredding thoughts.
Part of me considered making the rest of the way to Gracie’s house. She wouldn’t leave me out in the storm, would she?
I grinned. She might.
Even if she didn’t, it wouldn’t be fair to put her in that position, after she had made her stance clear. We could fuck in the woods, but not in her bed.
A perfect flash of lightning lit the church on the hill. I turned to face it, letting the rain pour down on me. I’d seen the church, but it hadn’t stood out to me until now. Mrs. Woolworth’s words crawled through my mind: if the Reverend has to get involved, we’re all going to wish we’d managed this situation better.
Maybe it was time to pay the man of God a little visit. Except, of course, it was in the middle of the night during a storm.
I started to turn back towards Honey and Hive when a shadow crossed the windows of the church. Someone was there, and they were awake.
As if on their own accord, my feet started towards the church. I narrowed my eyes on the movement that flickered in the glow of the lightning. The ground inclined up a hill, and I stooped, pushing against the wind, as I trudged up towards the church. The storm picked up, beating at my arms, my chest, my face. My soles slipped on the wet ground, and I struggled to keep traction.
Finally, at the top of the hill, I stood to catch my breath, cold air stabbing at my lungs with each intake.
The church was reminiscent of any other in the area that had been built during the 1800s, simplistic but a testament of the faith of the townspeople. I’d spent many days in my youth in a similar building, though I’d stepped away from it as an adult. My mother still went. My father has always refused, but my town was more forgiving than some.
I got the distinct impression leaving the church in Thorn Tree wasn’t an option.
The shadow in the window moved again. I stumbled through the dark and rain towards the door, then tried the knob but the door didn’t budge. With my fist raised to knock, I hesitated.
The only answers in this town were found in the shadows, when no one knew I was around.
I slunk around the side of the building, searching for a window with a view inside. Only the front window was stained-glass, the rest were picture windows with heavy drapes over them. I wasn’t sure what I thought I would catch here besides a cold because I was freezing my ass off.
Thunder rolled overhead.
Mother Nature was giving me every warning to turn back. Instead, I headed around the back of the church.
A door creaked. I charged back out of sight, then peered around the corner.
The front door had opened, but no one stood outside.
I straightened up and made my way to the door, preparing to meet with whoever had opened it. As I approached, no one made themselves known.
I halted in the doorway leading to the dimly lit interior. The rows of pews were empty, forming an aisle that led to a stage with a pulpit. Behind the pulpit, an enormous alcove filled the back wall, stretching to the ceiling. Velvet red drapes had been pulled over the front, concealing what was inside, like curtains for a play.
My soles squelched water onto the stone floor as I stepped inside. Metal lanterns hung from the walls cast orange light over the seats, and the shelter from the storm led me further inside. The cold wind seemed to halt at the doorway.
I sank deeper into the warm interior, trailing my hand over the back of the pews as I was drawn towards the stage.
To the alcove.
Hundreds of snuffled out candles lined long tables on either side of the stage.
As my foot touched the first step, someone spoke from behind me: “I knew you’d stop in eventually.”
I spun around, breath caught in my lungs.
A man in a black cassock stood behind me. His thin gray hair and wrinkles made him look timeless.
He smiled at me. “Malachi Brewer.”
It wasn’t a question, but I nodded anyway.
“Nice to meet you,” I said, then realized I’d just lied to a member of the clergy.
“Malachi, your reputation precedes you.”
I leaned back, folding my arms over my chest. “How so?”
“Tenacious. Determined. Wonderful attributes if managed appropriately.”
I wasn’t sure where this man was going, or why he kept using my full name when only my mother did when I was in trouble.
Something told me this was a whole other kind of trouble.
“Just here to find my brother,” I said, “then I’ll be on my way.”
That wasn’t entirely true, but we didn’t need to bring Grace into this.
“Oh, yes, I know why you’re here.” He strolled towards me, and I slid out of his way as he took the steps up the platform. “I did hope you would find him.”
He stopped next to a table ladened with candles and flicked his gaze at me. In the dim light, his eyes were black.
“I haven’t given up yet,” I said, but the words were just to fill the air, to keep his attention while I sized him up.
I’d been in church enough to know this was something else entirely. I just wasn’t sure what.
“Tenacious,” he said with a nod. “Just as I said.”
I didn’t reply as he stared down at the tops of the unlit candles.
He lifted his hand away from his face. “Malachi, why don’t you join us for service tomorrow night?”
I kept my arms crossed, my senses on high alert. “I’m not really the church going kind. Doesn’t interest me.”
His hand erupted with flames. They cast flickering shadows and light across his smile. “Are you sure?”
Before I could reply, he lowered his flaming hand to the candles in front of him. Across tables along the stage and around the perimeter of the church, candles flared to life in a single instance.
The hellish fire danced with shadows across the walls, over the pews.
My chest seized, but I steeled myself, refusing to give him the fear he so clearly wished to incite in me.
“Who are you?” I asked.
The flames from his hand inched up his arm, but he didn’t seem to notice or care.
Instead, he raised his head, leveling his gaze at me. “Why don’t you ask Gracie Miller?”
13
GRACE
When I woke up on the couch, the air felt like it had snowed outside. If it hadn’t, it would soon, probably before the day was over. From there, it would be a downward slide into winter, which made collecting the last two elements for my spell more difficult.
Difficult, but not impossible. I’d been stuck on how to proceed with the next step, but while I meditated last night, the Goddess had sent me instructions. I’d jotted them down on the back of the receipt from the bakery. Today, I would set about doing as She had provided.
But first, I had to deal with the basement guest.
My back ached as I sat up on the edge of the couch. I hadn’t slept in my bed in ages, as if I no longer stopped or started my days but took small, obligatory intermissions.
I was on a deadline, after all.
Wincing, I forced myself to my feet then grabbed two donuts out of the bag on the counter before unlocking the basement door. I bit into one donut to free up a hand and plucked the pistol from the drawer, then headed downstairs.
Bobby was right where I’d left him, which was a given. He wasn’t looking so hot, but a donut would perk him right back up.
I kicked the door shut behind me. He looked up as I approached, eyes heavy and lips pale.
I bit off the donut and set the rest on the workbench.
“I brought goodies,” I said in a singsong voice, then placed the other donut in his palm. I went about undoing his restraints. “I know you know the gig. Behave, you get a donut and both of your kneecaps remain intact, capiche?”
“I have to use the bathroom,” he said, his words slurred.
I wrinkled my nose. “I didn’t mind cleaning up after the dog, but he was cute. You, not so much.”
When I’d finished freeing Bobby, I stepped back and finished my donut, watching him. He gazed unfocused at the donut in his hand, until I kicked the leg of his chair.
“That’s from Mr. Jimenez. Don’t waste good food.”
Bobby looked up at me, his head not fully lifted. “How much longer do we have to do this?”
“Until I say so,” I snapped.
He didn’t get to control the descent of his future. His demise was in my hands, not his.
He didn’t flinch, or grimace, or look even the least bit annoyed. I didn’t care for the resigned look on his face.
No one should act like that while holding one of Mr. Jimenez’s donuts.
“Just eat your fuckin’ donut, then I’ll get you some water.” I licked the glaze off my fingers. “You’re probably dehydrated, maybe a little hypoglycemic.”
With effort, he took a bite of the donut. The next bite came faster, and relief flooded through me. I’d been correct: he just needed sugar and water and maybe a hot shower. Then he would be prepared for another few days in his chair.
I couldn’t leave him to wander the basement. He might try to jimmy open the door when I wasn’t home.
Bobby Bruno was not to be trusted. I’d learned that lesson the hard way, and I wouldn’t give him the benefit of the doubt ever again.
But I couldn’t let him wither away down here. That wouldn’t do.
When he finished the donut, I waved my gun at him. “We’ll go upstairs so you can use the plumbing of civilized people. You make one wrong move—”
“Understood.” His tone was solemn, and I would have felt bad, except…I didn’t.
I gestured for him to lead the way, then followed right behind him, pistol level at his back. If he so much as looked at the front door, I would take out his spleen. At least, I hoped he believed that. I couldn’t let him die yet.
Like a good hostage, he kept his head down and gaze averted as he entered the kitchen. We headed down the hall to the bathroom. There was only one small window, located at the top of the shower. He would have to work to get one arm out of it, and I wasn’t worried about him flagging down passersby. They were rare around here.
Though not as rare these days as they used to be.
I opened the door and flipped on the light, then waved him inside. “We’re leaving the door ajar, but I’ll stand aside. Don’t worry, I don’t want to do this anymore than you do.”
He tipped his chin just enough to indicate he’d heard me. When he entered the bathroom, I scooted a heavy plant pot from the hallway to hold the door ajar. Then I stepped out of view, my back to the wall, and picked at my nails while he made use of modern conveniences.
“You can shower, if you want,” I called to him. “There’s a new bottle of body wash in there. It’s citrus and mint.”
“Okay.”
He wasn’t much of a conversationalist today.
“I can get you a toothbrush too,” I added.
Was I really worried about my ritual sacrifice getting a cavity?
I grabbed a new toothbrush out of the hallway closet and tossed it at the sink around the wall. The brush clunked into the sink basin; not exactly where I’d intended, but at least it didn’t hit the floor.
The shower squeaked on, and minty citrus steam filled the air.
Too bad I didn’t have a change of clothes for him. He would have to make do with the one outfit for the next few weeks. I wasn’t about to raise suspicion in town by buying men’s clothes three times too big for me.
When he finished showering and brushing his teeth, I stepped around to the doorway. He was wearing his jeans but not his shirt or shoes.
