Page 62 of Judas (The Lito Duet #2)

Chapter thirty-one

Judas

“ H ave a good time with your family?” Babel asks Kace when he comes out of the room, appearing distracted.

My vision is a bit too blurry to make out the details, the fine lines that have formed over the years appearing smoother than before.

Can’t really make out the darker strands of his facial hair either.

I do see the slight change in shade, though—damage to your optical nerves via brain trauma will do that to you.

They’ve been at me for too long now; if it wasn’t for Samael, I’d probably be face down in a ditch or fed through a woodchipper.

He’s a coward, looming around in the background while I take the brunt of their illicit cross-examination.

“Yeah, kid is throwing me for a loop. She’s got her mother’s attitude,” he replies.

“Oh, that’s good.”

Hardly.

“Disagree.”

“It can’t be that bad, she just met you. It’s going to take some time to warm up.”

“Shit, nothing like that. Anyway, have you gotten anything out of him? Haven’t had to sit through a job this drawn-out. The longer we are here, the more of a risk we are taking. The contact is on the move and prepping for a transfer if he lasts that long.”

“Where are you sending him?” Babel asks, stepping out of the way for Kace to take over. I’m rather curious how these two met. They’re not cut from the same cloth, that is clear even to the cloudiest eyes and foggiest of minds.

“Undisclosed location, don’t worry about it, Gunny. The less you know about certain shit, the better.”

“Don’t treat me like I’m green, Havok. I’m here for a goddamn reason.”

“Watch… your… mouth,” I squeeze out. Tilting my head back, I try to shift far enough down in this chair to prop it on the backrest.

My muscles feel like they’re in knots from being confined to it for so long; not able to stretch out or pop any of the joints.

The broken skin, missing phalanges, and other wounds don’t make it any better.

They won’t ever hear me say it, but I’ve not taken a beating like this before.

Always talking myself out of them, turning things around on other people and disappearing.

“Not a damn person asked you—shut the hell up,” Babel snorts.

“Ignore him, that’s one of his things. Was like that in Darkwater too. Hypocritical shit.”

“Pretty boy, let me out of these bindings and I’ll remind you what happens when you use the Lord's name in vain.”

“Going to remind me what happens when I touch Nadia, too? How does it feel knowing someone has video footage of you relieving yourself on a man? How many commandments did you break with that stunt? Adultery, false witness, shall not murder, covet. That’s what, twenty lashings?”

“Historically in Jewish contest, maybe. Roman, no, as there is no limit.”

“I’ll be damned, he answered a fucking question,” mutters Babel.

They go back to their conversation and leave me to my own thoughts and pains, allowing me a small respite.

Unable to sink into the chair and rest my head back, I tilt it to the right and end up leaving it there and close my eyes.

Unfortunately, everywhere I turn I’m left plagued.

Itching to expel my soul from this body and maybe, just maybe, I will.

Before my descent into mental hell, Naamah’s words come back to me—Samael will be locked in this body. Listen, I’m not a good man. I know that. Never claimed to be one. The Lord may be willing to forgive my soul, but I doubt he will do the same for Samael; at least I hope he forgives me.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” Sighing softly to myself, less sound and more breath shaping my words.

“I have committed atrocities in your name and deserve the punishment that you have prepared for me in the belly of hell. I was led astray, my Lord, by one of your other creations. Corrupted for the sake of your name, believing I was doing your will and displeasure. Should I never have my name written in your Book of Life , I will accept my punishment. But I beg that you hear my confession and save the soul that wasn’t meant for the darkness that has stained it so.

When the one called Samael warped my mind.

I’m in no way innocent, but I do acknowledge that I have earned eternal damnation.

Were I a stronger man, a stronger boy, I could have found guidance through your word rather than violence. Amen.”

“Wake your ass up.”

My chair jolts and I jump at the sudden nature of it; a kick, I presume.

Tilting my head back, it feels like it weighs a thousand pounds.

I look up to Kace and a dim light that’s flooding the room barely illuminates his figure in the darkness—must be night outside.

Time for my daily beating. The fog over my eyes has cleared up a bit since earlier, allowing more details to come through.

As for other senses, my mouth is still just as dry as it was, but a few aches have since faded.

“What do you want, pretty boy?” Still a bit groggy as I ask.

“It’s dark out, I have questions, you have answers. Let’s get this over with.”

“Fine. You won’t like anything you hear but if you would kindly fuck off afterwards, I’ll answer them.”

Kace’s brows lift to his hairline in surprise, which still exists for a man of his advanced age.

“Kace!” Nadia’s voice pierces the air, making him swivel and look at the closed bedroom door. His left arm lifts and his thumb hooks over his shoulder, addressing Babel.

“Can you get that?”

Babel doesn’t hesitate; the soft footfalls seem just as ominous as her sharp yelp.

He opens the door just as Kace circles back to me, standing only a few feet away.

Stockier than I remember in Darkwater, with his sturdier arms crossed over his wider chest. Solid and unforgiving.

He was always healthy but he’s just a bit more now and it contrasts the weakness I feel.

“What were you going to do with the girls?”

Here we go, Spanish Inquisition.

Responding without haste, I huff, “Double-murder, suicide.”

“Why?”

“Our blood is unclean for this world. We are haunted in ways that cannot be fixed.“

I barely know how to explain this anymore, it makes sense in my head. But when I speak it out loud, it’s drastic—and that’s putting it lightly.

“Our mother had similar ailments. Psychosis of some varying degree. Pair that with her substance abuse and promiscuity, she delivered two children who are as messed up. I—“ My voice trails off for a moment.

“Hold on, you’re telling me you wanted to kill the three of you because you don’t like how your mentally ill mother gave you life?” Kace asks.

“Yes and no. As I was saying, I didn’t intend on killing either one of us.

I had planned to get pulled out of Darkwater and take her with me, where we could at least be with family that understood one another.

We didn’t get that when we were little. Her father forced us away and mine pulled us back into hell on earth.

Always wanted to be part of Nadia’s life, Kace.

When she pushed me away, when she chose you over me, I couldn’t allow it.

Hate me all you want, but I’ve seen how love can destroy innocence.

To me, she’s still the girl in the window.

Crying over her color pages, wrecking the pretty things I did for her.

Then we grew up, just as messed up as we were when we were little.

But she chose to be your whore instead of my sister. ”

“I don’t buy that shit for one second, Lucien. Love doesn’t mean kill. How did you get out of Sortiger?”

“Fuck you, she will always be mine. I saw her first, loved her first, I own her.”

“I think the fuck not! How did you get out of Sortiger, Lucien!?” he shouts now.

“Havok, we have a problem,” Babel spills from the door.

“Fucking deal with it, Elias. I’m busy!”

“Kace…” Nadia’s voice is broken as she’s helped out of the room, Babel flanking Sadie as they hold the girl up.

Her hair is strung everywhere, strands stuck to her face, some falling out of a loose ponytail, other full locks hued red.

Stubborn asshole swivels with a heavy breath, like tending to his family is a burden and not the whole reason he’s standing in front of me.

The second he sees the damage before him, his shoulders stiffen.

“The fuck happened?” Kace bellows.

Babel and Nadia are still supporting Sadie.

She’s delirious. Manic grin, filling her blood-splattered face, hands colored with the same slick essence I want to touch.

I want to writhe in it. Kate’s here, just like I said she would be.

They’re not prepared for the deranged entity. I am though, I’ve survived worse.

Speaking up, I grit, “Let me help.”

“Lucien, shut the fuck up. Nadia, what happened to her?”

“Havok, I need to take her to the hospital. She’s bleeding all over the place,” Babel responds, taking control of the situation versus letting Nadia answer Kace’s unimportant question.

The energy that railroads me swoops in out of nowhere.

I should be dead a few times over, yet here I am.

Struggling against my restraints again, trying to escape them to get to the girl whose body houses the mate of my darker part.

Is it instinct? Is it a need to get to her because a darker part of me has deemed her mine, and the thought of her leaving my vicinity is unbearable?

I don’t really know; what I can prove at this very moment is that I need to reach her.

Get us out of this, Lucien, or you will be stuck with me for as long as I exist.

God, please.

“Don’t you touch her. You’re not taking her anywhere. She’s mine to fix, I can bring her back. I warned you all and you didn’t listen!”