Xavier watches me with a mixture of curiosity and disbelief.
He almost looks hurt, which surprises me.
Bob calls out, “Sister Francis, I could use your help here.”
Tomas loosens his hold on me. Smiling, I take his contorted hand and walk him down the hall to the spare bedroom. As we walk, I tell him, “I was thinking about you today. I think maybe God brought you here. I was worried about you. I prayed for you. Every night.”
He doesn’t respond, but I know he’s listening.
“Why don’t we go to the library tomorrow? We can ask Mrs Fontaine if we can borrow some books to bring here. I can read to you if you like?”
We reach the spare room and I open the door. I turn on the light and turn down the bed. “Stay here, okay? I just need to get you something dry to wear to bed.”
I quickly grab a few items of Bob’s clothes that will swim on Tomas, but it’s the best I can do right now. When I enter the bedroom, I pause mid-step. Tomas is in bed, fast asleep, shoes on and all.
I smile and move closer to him. I take the blanket and cover him with it. I creep away as quietly as I can, turn off the light and pull the door closed, leaving only an inch open.
As I walk away, I find Bob yawning in the hall. I open my mouth to ask him one of the million questions I have, but he raises a hand pleadingly. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow, girl.”
By the state of exhaustion he’s in, I let it slide with a simple nod.
Bob walks by me, grips the back of my neck and leans forward to kiss my forehead. “’Night.”
“Goodnight, Bob.” I make my way to my room and for the first night since he left, I don’t think about Marco. I fall asleep soundly and sweetly knowing that one of my prayers has been answered.
***
An animalistic howl awakens me.
“Oh, God! Fuck! Oh. Oh.” Heavy breathing is followed by retching. “Please let me out of here! Please! I changed my mind. I don’t need to be here. Let me out.” Banging and groaning echoes around the house. Then an angry, “I don’t want your f**king help. You motherfucking cunts! Let me out!” Begging soon follows, “Please let me out. Please let me out. I can control it. I don’t need your help. I’m sorry. Let me out.”
My heartbeat pulses through my temples.
Calming myself slightly, I slide out of bed and open my bedroom door. Frankie stands there, about to knock on my door, looking worried.
Another howl. This time longer and guttural.
Frankie closes her eyes and cringes. “You were right. He’s a junkie.”
My eyes widen. I blink, and then hiss, “I knew it!”
The gagging and retching continue.
Frankie leans on the doorjamb and rolls her eyes. “Don’t gloat or anything.”
I point a finger at her chest. “You have no idea how much I prayed that I was wrong. But I knew. I f**king knew it.” My lip curls. “Fucking ass**le.”
Frankie looks at me, disappointment in her eyes. “He’s trying to get help, Cat. That’s why he’s here. That’s why he dragged his brother, a brother he loves, out in the middle of the night in the pouring rain. Because he knew he couldn’t do it alone.” She pauses, allowing that to sink in. “He’s trying.”
There is no try. There is only do.
Even as I think that, guilt turns my stomach into a tumbling, turning mess. I sigh, “I know. I do. I know he’s trying, but I think about Tomas…”
She finished my sentence for me, “And you get all stabby.”
I snort a laugh. “Kind of.” I sober quickly. “The thought of anyone hurting him makes me want to gut someone.”
Frankie reaches out to rub my shoulder. “Rest assured, sweet Cat. As long as we’re around, no one will ever lay a hand to him. Never. Not ever.”
The knot in my stomach loosens. I take in what she just said. She’s right.
No one will ever hurt Tomas.
They wouldn’t dare.
If they do, I’ll kill them.
Chapter Seven
“Where is Marco?”
I turn to the entrance of the kitchen to see Clark standing there, glowering at me. I shrug, feigning casual indifference. “I don’t know. You should ask Bob.”
He slowly steps into the kitchen, not taking his eyes off me. “I’m asking you.”
“Sorry. Can’t help you there.”
Silence follows before he says, “You’re lying.”
My back turns rigid. I stiffen. Turning, I glare at him. “You better be damn sure before you throw around accusations like that.”
Clark’s face softens a little. “Sorry. I just think you know more than you’re telling me.”
I’m not lying.
Not technically.
I tell him in complete honesty, “I don’t know where Marco is, Clark.”
He nods. “Okay.” He steps back. “Whatever you say.”
He leaves me in the kitchen, hands shaking, heart racing. Good question, Clark. One I’d like to know myself.
Where the hell is Marco?
***
“Sister Arianne?” I ask as I knock on the chapel doorframe.
“Oui, ma chérie. Entrer.”
Hands folded demurely in front of me, I enter, the picture of humbleness. I watch Ari, dressed in her habit, kneeling by an older lady, praying with her.
I make the sign of the cross as I approach the large statue of a crucified Jesus, and then whisper, “I’m sorry to disturb you. I wonder if I may have a moment, please.”
She smiles at my manners. “Of course.” She stands and follows me outside, closing the door behind her.
I step closer to her and hand her a white envelope. Her face hardens slightly as she tucks the envelope into her habit. I don’t need to say anything more. I walk away in complete silence. A small smile spreads across my face.
Tonight, we play.
***
Mirage has a way of making you feel powerful. The presence in this building is astounding. It oozes confidence and cockiness. When I stand in the middle of the first floor watching the people around me take charge and do what’s necessary to get a target hunted, it makes my skin itch in the most delicious way.
The air buzzes and hums.
I’m in the zone.
Tonight’s target is not someone I know. This is because tonight, we have to head four towns over. Because of this, we are getting ready extra early. It’s not even dark out.
Bob hands us all our target sheets and we all read in silence. The air hums harder, as if there is static in the air.