Three years later . . .
Gabriel staggered back down the hallway. His shoulder was hanging low, curved inwards. He had been put on the strappado again. Tied with a rope by one wrist and suspended from the ceiling. The blinding white pain from the dislocated shoulder made it hard to breathe. He’d been here before. Still, it didn’t make the pain any easier to bear.
And in two days, he had a decision to make.
The door to the dorm room closed behind him. He walked to Uriel’s bed, and Uriel got to his feet. Gabriel faced forward as Uriel placed his hand on Gabriel’s shoulder and pushed it back into place. Gabriel breathed through the excruciating pain. But he’d endured worse. Continued daily to endure worse.
“Did he speak to you?” Uriel asked. Gabriel nodded. “And?”
Gabriel inhaled deeply. “I told him I’d pledge.” His gaze drifted to Michael, who was lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I have to be near you all if I’m to help. It’ll be my only way out . . . the only way any of us will get out.”
Years. Years Gabriel had waited for a chance to save them, to get them out. But no opportunity came, just the same torture, exorcisms, and nights in the candle room, on his knees or pushed to the floor as Father Quinn purified him with his seed. At times, Gabriel tried to remember the boy he was before Purgatory. But that life seemed like it was someone else’s. The altar boy dedicated to his faith and his priests. Priests who had now defiled him.
The room was thick as the others listened. The Brethren were forced to do evil things. Things Gabriel would never do. Even if he pledged, he was on limited time. The minute he refused an order, he would be punished. But if he didn’t pledge . . . they would kill him.
There was no good choice.
Gabriel moved to his bed. He rubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes. In all this time in Purgatory, he had never lost his faith. Believed God had placed him on a path, a journey that he must endure. He knew the Brethren operated outside of the Catholic Church. Father Quinn and the others had admitted as much. Gabriel trusted that if the Pope knew of these atrocities, this sect that had split from the main church, they would be cast aside. Gabriel still prayed nightly, begging for help, begging for the Brethren to be discovered. He still believed that they would all somehow be saved. Even if they were useless, prayer and faith were all he had left. He wouldn’t let the Brethren strip him of that too. They’d already taken his pride, his self-worth, and his body.
They wouldn’t take his soul.
When the morning of his birthday came, he couldn’t stop his hands shaking. Gabriel had no idea what the Brethren’s initiation ceremony entailed. As Gabriel dressed, he heard raised voices outside their room. He turned to face the Fallen, who had gathered around his bed. “I’ll get you free,” Gabriel said as the sound of hurried footsteps grew closer. “Trust me. I’ll get us all free.”
The Fallen didn’t reply. Bara smirked, clearly doubting Gabriel’s promise. Gabriel didn’t blame him. Nothing had ever worked in their favor. The Fallen’s souls were dark. Gabriel knew that. He knew some might argue they should never be released into the world. He was under no illusions. He knew they would all kill the minute they could. But in the three years he’d spent with them, they had become his family. His brothers.
He wasn’t their judge. That wasn’t his place.
The door opened, and Father Quinn came through. Gabriel didn’t let his surprise show on his face. Father Quinn was the high priest. He never collected the Fallen from the room.
For three years, Gabriel had been under his personal administrations.
“Gabriel.” Father Quinn’s voice carried like a whip through the room. He looked flustered. Gabriel had never seen him in such a way. “Now!” he shouted. Gabriel’s eyes narrowed, something in his gut telling him that something was very wrong. Gabriel faced Michael. His brother’s stare was predictably emotionless, but Gabriel still said, “Hold on, Michael. Keep strong.”
Warmth burst in Gabriel’s chest when Michael’s blue eyes focused on him for a few seconds, flaring in understanding. Then Gabriel was walking across the room and away from the boys he had vowed to protect. Father Quinn slammed the door shut behind them, and Joseph knew he was also closing the door on another chapter of his life. Gabriel followed Father Quinn down the hallway. But when they turned left, suspicion and unease seeped into his bones. A door stood in the distance . . . one that was familiar. One he had only walked through once before. When Father Quinn unlocked the door and bright light flooded the hallway, Gabriel slammed his back against the wall, the bright daylight too intense for his eyes. He hadn’t seen the sun for three years. Had only been exposed to darkness.
“Move,” Father Quinn hissed and grabbed Gabriel by the arm. He threw him into the path of the sun. Gabriel’s feet staggered as he was pulled up the staircase that he had discovered years ago. Blinded by the onslaught of light, he was thrown into the back of an SUV. It was darker in the car, and he blinked, trying to heal his scalded vision. Something was thrown into his lap. “Change.” Father Quinn’s barked order made Gabriel’s body automatically start moving. When he had finished, he looked down and recognized the uniform he used to wear at Holy Innocents. Gabriel couldn’t understand what was happening. Why he was back in his uniform?
He didn’t have to wait long for an explanation.
“Someone is here to see you. A very powerful man. I have no idea why,” Father Quinn said. Gabriel rubbed at his eyes. He was getting a headache. Father Quinn’s eyes narrowed. “You had no family. It was why you were in Holy Innocents. Who the hell is he?”
“I don’t have family.”
Father Quinn leaned over the seat and gripped Gabriel’s arm, hard. “You tell anyone about the Brethren or Purgatory, and every one of your dormmates will perish.” Gabriel’s heart sank, knowing the threat was real. “That’s a promise, Gabriel. And it will be painful and slow. Michael will feel it the most.”
The SUV came to a stop at the back doors of the home he hadn’t seen for so long. Father Quinn opened the door, and Gabriel stepped out. He was led through the vaguely familiar hallways toward Father Quinn’s study. It occurred to Gabriel that while the Fallen were in Purgatory, living in hell, the priests continued to be a beacon of good to the community, to the boys who lived in this place. It was the cruelest of ruses. Good people being led astray by evil men dressed up as agents of God.
When Gabriel entered the study, a man in an expensive suit, who looked to be in his late forties, was sitting on a chair. “Mr. Miller,” Father Quinn said and shook the man’s hand. The man gave Father Quinn a tight smile, then focused his attention on Gabriel.
“Joseph Kelly?” Gabriel faltered at that name. He barely recognized it anymore. A quick glance at Father Quinn, seeing the priest’s warning in his glare, made Gabriel nod his head.
“Yes, sir.”
Mr. Miller looked at Father Quinn. “If we could use your office, I have something to discuss with Joseph. In private.”
Father Quinn stayed seated for a minute, his stony expression and tight lips showing he was offended by the blatant dismissal. Gabriel was sure he would refuse, challenge the man who had come to visit him. But the priest got to his feet. His hand came down on Gabriel’s shoulder as he passed. His tight squeeze was warning enough for Gabriel to keep quiet. When Father Quinn left, Mr. Miller gestured for Gabriel to sit. Gabriel did, and then he waited.
“Joseph, I’m here representing Jack Murphy. Have you heard of him?” Gabriel shook his head. “That’s okay. I imagine you’re pretty sheltered here at Holy Innocents.” Gabriel gave no response. Mr. Miller regarded Gabriel, then said, “He was the owner and creator of a very well-known tech company.” Mr. Miller waved his hand in dismissal. “That isn’t the important part. What’s important is that you’re his one and only heir.” Gabriel let Mr. Miller’s words wash over him. One by one those words trickled into his brain, but they didn’t make sense. An heir. An heir? Gabriel shook his head, trying to catch up with what Mr. Miller was saying. His brain didn’t function as it once had. He was numb to any rational thought. All he had done for years was mentally disconnect from his everyday life—the torture, the pain, the sexual cleansing of his apparently dark soul. Gabriel and Michael had never had anyone in their life. No one but their mother, who they watched perish, succumb to the illness that stripped her of her energy and happiness. Yet even through his numbed thoughts, an anger took hold. Anger was a strong emotion these days. Gabriel had always had a calm and placid disposition, but anger had consumed it, had been chipping away at his heart for years, eradicating the kindness that was innate. Every time he was taken to the torture room: on the rack, limbs stretched until he broke; the strappado, hoisted, arms bound until he screamed . . . good seemed a distant memory, and contempt and fury took its place.
And now he was told there had been someone outside this hell all along? A relative that could have spared him and Michael from this pain?
“How?” Gabriel asked, through his clenched teeth.
“Jack Murphy is—was—your maternal grandfather.” Gabriel’s confusion and ire didn’t lift any; it only deepened. Heat burst in his chest and spread like fire through his body. His mother never spoke of a father. Granted, Gabriel was only six when his mother died, but he’d thought she’d had no family but for him and Michael. Their father had up and left not long after Michael was born. Gabriel didn’t remember him. As far as Gabriel understood, his mother hadn’t known her father either. Was raised by a single mother who died before Gabriel was born. They’d been alone. And when he and Michael had been found, starving and cold, their mother’s rotting body still lying in her bed with her two children hugging her wasting flesh, there had been no fucking talk of a grandfather! Someone who should have taken them in and shielded them from that sight.
Miller seemed to be waiting for Gabriel to speak. But Gabriel couldn’t. He was afraid of what he might say or do if he let the rage boiling inside free. At that moment he didn’t care about some grandfather who had abandoned them. He didn’t give a fuck about what he might have left him. His place was back with his brothers in Purgatory. Not right here, right now.
“Your grandfather was a complicated man,” Mr. Miller explained, clearly seeing Gabriel’s rising displeasure. He shifted nervously on his seat. “Joseph, your grandfather was a wealthy man. A very wealthy man. His business was handed over to the board, but his money and his assets are all now yours.” Gabriel didn’t really hear the news. His mind wandered to his brothers and who would be taken today. What the Brethren would do to them, whether the priests would punish them for Gabriel’s absence.
“Today you’re eighteen,” Miller said. Gabriel blinked, and his attention came back to the lawyer. “I’m sorry to have to tell you that your grandfather died a month ago. But it was in his will that on your eighteenth birthday you were to be found and given your inheritance.”
Gabriel’s hands curled into fists under the table. He was shaking. He was shaking so badly that, for once, he felt like he understood to a small extent what his brothers felt every single minute of their lives. The need to unleash the fire inside and damn the consequences. His eyes closed, and he tried to breathe. The bastard who should have saved them was now dead. But had left Gabriel everything. What was money? What were material goods when one’s body and mind had been raped and sullied and irreparably damaged?
“We can leave immediately. I have documents you must sign, and then I can show you your new home.” Gabriel simply glared. He wanted Gabriel to leave? To swan off into the life of a rich man when his place was here, banded to his brothers? “Do you understand, son? Your grandfather was worth billions. Billions that are now yours. You’re eighteen. You would have been released from Holy Innocents today. You now have somewhere to go.”
“I don’t care for his money,” Gabriel hissed, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears.
Miller blinked, then looked around the room. His eyebrows seemed to pull down in dislike. “Son, listen. I can see you’re pissed. But there’s more to this than I can tell you here.” Miller leaned closer, dropping his voice. “Think of what you could do with all that money. You could help people if you didn’t want it yourself. You can use it however you want.” Miller’s hands clasped together. “Your world has just been opened up in ways you can’t imagine. I know Holy Innocents seems like the entire world right now, but it’s not. Everything is possible when you’re this rich.”
For the first time since Miller sat down, Gabriel’s anger dropped, and a slither of light sparked in his chest. He had been going to pledge himself to the Brethren today, all so he could be close to his brothers. He’d reasoned that if he was close to the priests, he could try to destroy them from within. But if he now had money . . . maybe he could get them out another way. He could give them a home, protect them. He met Miller’s eyes and tried to find the answers he sought. Money could buy him resources, information . . . influence and power. He wasn’t sure if he could garner power enough to rival the might of the Catholic Church, but he could try. He would find a way.
Gabriel was torn, pulled in the direction of two different paths. He tried to think, racking his brain and his heart to find the right answer. But he didn’t have long to decide. Father Quinn came back into the room, his posture rigid and his eyes lit with irritation . . . and, Gabriel realized, worry. Father Quinn was scared. “Is everything okay?”
Seeing the high priest so rattled made Gabriel’s decision easy for him. In all the years under his harsh rule, Gabriel had never seen the priest shaken, not even a little apprehensive. But now, with the priest’s eyes darting between Gabriel and Miller, Gabriel knew he had found a weakness. None of the taken children were ever released without pledging to the Brethren first. But Gabriel could be. He could be the chink in their impenetrable armor. “Okay,” Gabriel said to Mr. Miller. “Let’s go.”
Father Quinn’s gaze snapped to Gabriel. “And where are you going?” Father Quinn did well to sound concerned for Gabriel. But Gabriel heard the panic in his tone.
“With me,” Mr. Miller said, getting to his feet. “Joseph is eighteen and has been left an estate in an inheritance.” Mr. Miller turned to Gabriel. “I’ll wait while you collect your things.”
“I have no things.” As Gabriel stared down the high priest, he thought, Nothing but a drive and purpose to free my brothers and bring your sect down.
Mr. Miller took pause at that, but then nodded. “Then there’s a car waiting out front.”
Gabriel followed Mr. Miller out of the office. He stopped when Father Quinn held out his hand. “It’s been a pleasure, son,” Father Quinn said through tight lips. Gabriel hesitated, years of conditioning to fear this man taking their hold. But, with a deep breath, he held out his hand and wrapped it around Father Quinn’s. The priest squeezed Gabriel’s hand in warning. Gabriel understood the message. Don’t say a thing.
“You too, Father,” he said and pulled back his arm. “It’s been a real pleasure.” He pulled back his hand, hating himself for the way his heart quickened at his defiance. Goosebumps broke out along Gabriel’s spine as he walked along the halls of Holy Innocents—once a sanctuary, now nothing but a prison. His feet faltered as he came to the main doors. He paused and looked up at the engraved wood. Not a “B” in sight. Feeling eyes on his back, Gabriel turned. Fathers Quinn, McCarthy, and Brady were watching him. A trinity of torture. Nobody left the Brethren alive. Gabriel knew they wouldn’t let this go. They had to protect their secret. They couldn’t let him go.
“Joseph?” Mr. Miller asked, pulling Gabriel’s attention.
Gabriel stepped over the threshold and into the fresh air. He winced at the daylight but hid his discomfort from Mr. Miller. As he passed the lawyer, he said, “It’s Gabriel. I go by Gabriel now.”
If Mr. Miller had questions, he didn’t ask them. “Then call me Miller. Mr. Miller makes me sound too much like my father.”
A driver waited behind the wheel of a black Bentley. Gabriel climbed in, and Miller sat beside him. Gabriel kept his face straight forward as the car pulled out onto the country road. Every move was robotic, fueled by the promise of being able to do something to help his brothers. He had no idea what. Gabriel was sheltered and knew nothing of the world. But he was a quick study, and he vowed to free them. And despite the strong faith he still held onto, belief in good and the pure intention of mankind, he would travel roads of darkness freely to get what he wanted. He would gladly sacrifice his soul to save those of his brothers.
“I got your documents from the home before you arrived,” Miller said, putting a folder into his briefcase. “We’ll go to my office first, sign the papers, then we’ll take you to your home.” Miller sighed at Gabriel’s lack of interaction, then asked, “Don’t you have any questions, Gabriel? About your grandfather? Your inheritance? This must be a lot for you.” Miller’s face shifted from frustrated to sympathetic. “Your start in life was tragic, Gabriel. Anger toward your grandfather would be understandable right now.”
“I have nothing to say.” Gabriel kept his eyes straight forward. His chest tightened when he thought of Father Quinn’s face and how pissed he had been at losing Gabriel. Gabriel dreaded what awaited the Fallen back in the dorm. The vengeance Father Quinn would enact on them in place of him.
Gabriel now had money, apparently. With money came connections. He had to hold on to that. “Did you know him well?” Gabriel finally asked.
“Your grandfather?” Miller asked. Gabriel nodded. Miller shifted on his seat. Gabriel caught the subtle uneasy movement. He wondered why that question brought with it discomfort.
“Very well. He was my closest friend.” No matter how plagued with worry Gabriel was, he couldn’t ignore another person’s pain. Turning to Miller, he said, “I’m sorry for your loss.” Miller’s face relaxed.
“Yours too,” Miller replied.
“I didn’t know him.” Gabriel looked out of the window at the treelined roads. Everything was so green. He was only used to black and gray and the ancient marked wood of the torture devices. Gabriel didn’t want to ask. He was pissed at his grandfather, but in his weakness he found himself saying, “Why didn’t he come for us sooner?”
“Us?”
Gabriel looked to Miller. “Yeah. Me and my brother. Us.”
Miller’s eyebrows drew down. “We have no record of a brother. We only managed to get your name because your grandfather found it before Holy Innocents’ system crash a few years ago. All information on the inhabitants in the home and school were lost for quite some time. When the system was fixed, all of the names and backgrounds of the children had to be re-entered by hand. The priests assured the government that the records were now up to date and complete.”
That’s how they did it, Gabriel thought. That’s how they wiped boys off the records. Why no one ever came looking for those taken to Purgatory. And who would? They were all orphans. The unloved. No one cared about any of them.
“I have a brother,” Gabriel repeated. “I have a brother, younger than me. And he is still in there.”
Miller was flustered with confusion. “You’re eighteen. We can work on getting your brother out and into your care.” The pressure in Gabriel’s chest lessened some at that. But it wasn’t just about Michael anymore.
“Brothers.”
“What?”
“Brothers,” Gabriel said again.
Miller frowned. “Brothers?” Gabriel could hear the confusion deepening in Miller’s voice. “You only mentioned one. How many brothers do you have?”
“Six,” Gabriel said and watched the surprise light up Miller’s face. “I have six brothers.” Gabriel exhaled, picturing Bara, Uriel, Sela, Diel, Raphael, and Michael in his head. “And we need to get them out soon. I have no time to waste in that regard.” Coldness infused his veins. “It’s the only reason I’m here. I couldn’t care less about my grandfather and his riches. But if the money helps me get my brothers out, I’ll use it.”
Miller stayed quiet the rest of the ride. Gabriel had no idea what he was thinking. He probably thought Gabriel insane.
Maybe after all his years in Purgatory he was. He knew he wasn’t the boy who’d entered through the sunken staircase and metal door. There was a darkness lurking in him now too. He felt it growing day by day. He didn’t know if it would one day consume him.
Today was not the day to dwell on that.
When the signing of the documents was done, they took the journey to Gabriel’s new home, out of Boston and into the Massachusetts countryside. Miles of nothingness led to a set of tall iron gates. They opened automatically. Gabriel’s eyes were wide as he took in the vast estate.
“It has a no-fly zone.” Miller gestured to the rolling manicured fields that stretched for miles. “Your grandfather was a very particular man. He wanted things a certain way. This address is not on any public record, and, for a small fortune, your grandfather ensured it is government protected. No one knows this manor exists outside of us and the staff. It is as off the grid as any secret military base.”
“Staff?” Gabriel questioned plainly, ignoring the rest.
Miller nodded. “Only a few. Just enough to help keep an estate of this size running. Staff who are discreet, ignore what they must, and live on the grounds in their own homes as a reward for their silence. And Winston, your driver, of course. All staff have been vetted and have signed non-disclosure agreements. But they were loyal to your grandfather for years, some decades, and loved him, as he did them. They were as much his family as he would allow. And they will be yours too if you let them.”
Gabriel wondered how they would react to the Fallen when they moved to the house. How they would take to six teenagers who were anything but normal. Because there was no doubt in Gabriel’s mind that they would come here with him. Each and every one would have a place here. Each one with a violent and disturbing obsession. How would he explain them to his grandfather’s staff? Michael with his blood-letting? Diel with his body in chains?
The car came to a stop. Gabriel looked up at the stone steps that led to a grand, ornate entrance. He had never once left the orphanage, but he had seen pictures of stately homes in Ireland in Father Quinn’s study. This manor . . . it was comparable to the best he had ever seen. The main doors opened, and three members of staff, three women and one man, dressed in black-and-white uniforms, made a line along the graveled path on top of the stairs. Gabriel viewed them with distant interest. But reality began to seep into his brain. This was his. All of this belonged to Gabriel. He now had more money than he could ever want. Gabriel, despite everything, was a man of God. He made himself believe that this was all just some big test. That God would reward him later for his soul’s sacrifice now. Money meant nothing to him. But he would use it to save his brothers. He would sin and indulge enough to see them freed.
The man in the black suit, white shirt, and black bow tie opened the Bentley’s door. “Master Kelly,” he said as Gabriel stepped out of the car. “Welcome home.”
“Thank you,” Gabriel said and began his journey up the stairs. The wind chilled him as he walked toward the sprawling mansion. It was so big it stretched as far as the eye could see. Gray stone, with climbing green ivy making the mansion look alive. The many windows were decorated with lead diamond patterns on the panes. It was as big as Holy Innocents. Maybe even bigger.
“Master Kelly,” each of the staff greeted him as he walked past. Gabriel nodded his head and shook their hands. The man who had helped him from the car opened the main doors.
“Patrick,” Miller said, referring to the man. “Your butler.”
Smiling, Gabriel walked over the threshold and into the foyer of the home. Gabriel had only seen grandeur of this scale in the Catholic churches around Boston. In the cathedrals.
Miller and Patrick proceeded to give Gabriel a tour of the home. Patrick left them alone to prepare supper as Miller led Gabriel to the study. Gabriel stood in the doorway of the impressive room, all cherry wood furniture and green carpets and walls. Behind the desk was a large picture of Christ on the cross. Gabriel swallowed. Around Jesus were the seven archangels. The seven archangels holding swords, fending off demons, their white wings stretched wide.
A cold chill stabbed Gabriel’s heart.
“Gabriel?”
“Why did he leave us in that fucking place?” Gabriel asked crudely, never taking his eyes off the painting. “Why didn’t he take us into his home? Why leave us without family? Without protection?” Gabriel fought to control the anger in his voice.
Miller was quiet. When Gabriel turned around, Miller looked conflicted. “Gabriel . . . your grandfather wasn’t exactly normal.” Gabriel frowned in confusion. “When he discovered he had a child, your mother, he knew he could never be in her life. Your mother was conceived as a result of a one-night stand. She believed her father didn’t want her. But that wasn’t true. He did. But he battled . . . personal demons.” The hairs on Gabriel’s neck stood on end. He knew all about that. “With him, she would have been in danger. So he stayed out of her life. It wasn’t until he was dying that he looked for her.” Miller’s face grew sympathetic. “He found that she had died. It tore him apart. Then he discovered you. By the time we had located you at Holy Innocents, he had only days left. But he wanted you to have this estate. He wanted you to have it all.”
“Why was he dangerous?” Gabriel asked. Stirrings of genuine interest began to clear his mind.
“You’re young, Gabriel. There are things in life you have not been exposed to, dark things. It’s better to let sleeping dogs lie. You are now a rich man, a protected one; your grandfather made sure of that. You can live a good life.”
Gabriel laughed at Miller’s words. His laughter quickly fell, as did any trace of humor. “Believe me, Mr. Miller. I understand the darker side of life just fine.” Gabriel didn’t give Miller a chance to respond. “I’m going to bed,” Gabriel said. “Please tell Patrick I’m not hungry.” Gabriel pushed past Miller and climbed the stairs to his room, the one Patrick had shown him on the tour. He locked the door and looked around the huge suite. A large four-poster bed sat in the center of the room. The mattress looked too comfortable. Gabriel wasn’t used to comfort.
Gabriel made his way to the bathroom and turned on the shower, keeping the temperature on its coldest setting. He stripped off his clothes and stepped under the spray. His shoulder ached from its recent dislocation. Cuts stung his skin from where Father Quinn had sliced him with a knife; scars marked where he’d been whipped as Father Quinn exorcised the demons from his soul.
Stepping out of the shower, Gabriel caught his reflection in the mirror over the vanity. He stilled. He hadn’t seen himself in three years. He couldn’t move as he studied his closely cropped platinum hair, his curls not even visible. His blue eyes looked dull, black circles underneath. He was thin, too thin. His skin was mottled with scars and redness from lashes and whips and burning coals . . . but it was the brand that was center stage on his chest and torso that he was drawn to, like a magnet. The reminder of the Brethren’s wrath. The upturned cross, telling the world of his sins.
This is what they had done.
This was Gabriel.
Turning from the bathroom in disgust, he walked to the bed. He pulled the sheet from the large mattress, lay on the wooden floor, and pulled the blanket over him. But he didn’t sleep. He wouldn’t sleep until his brothers were by his side.
It was his vow.
He had made them a promise.
One he wouldn’t break.