Raphael (Deadly Virtues #1)(83)

Another group of priests ran at them from the left. Bara turned and laughed as his flame thrower doused them all in fire. The priests screamed, the smell of burned flesh filtering through the stagnant hallways. The screams were a blissful symphony to Raphael’s ears, a salve to some of the gaping wounds that had never healed. Torn fibers in his chest began knitting together as priest after priest hit the ground. Finally, it was them prostrate at the Fallen’s feet.

Uriel ran through to the burning priests, stabbing and crowbarring their knees. Even through the cacophony, the sound of bodies hitting the ground was better than any hymn he’d ever heard sung at church. “Let them die slowly,” Uriel snarled as the priests began to beg for a quick death.

Raphael watched them screaming and begging for mercy. Their pain energized him, made him reborn. Raphael gave himself over to darkness. Bullets rained from his gun, and Raphael grew harder and harder as priest after priest dropped to the floor. It was carnage, and Raphael was a savage as he shot through skulls and hearts and heads, blood spraying his face—the most addictive warmth. Sela dropped down to the falling bodies, stripping them of ears and tongues and fingers with his sharp blades.

But Raphael broke from the pack and ran down the hallway that led to the staircase. He descended the steps. The familiar route caused images to flash through his head like a movie reel—candles, the smell of burning, sweat from the priests, cum and screams . . . Raphael ran to the candle room, the need to kill guiding his feet. As he slammed through the door, his feet ground to a halt.

Kids. Kids on the ground, naked priests above them. He saw red. Raphael raised his gun, about to shoot each of the priests, when he heard, “Let me, brother. These fuckers deserve to burn.”

Bara came from behind him, stalking toward the priests trying to escape. Before they could even take a step, Bara sprayed their naked bodies with fire, the flesh instantly starting to boil. Raphael heard Gabriel ushering the naked boys to their feet and rushing them from the room too. This time his eyes stayed on the priests. They screamed as they were set ablaze. They hit the walls and the ground, trying to put out the flames, but Bara doused them and doused them until their bodies were charred and unable to do anything but be eaten alive by Bara’s flames.

Uriel picked up a can of the gasoline Gabriel’s mercenaries had begun bringing inside. He uncapped the can and poured it on the ground. Raphael’s eyes stayed on the priests. He couldn’t tear himself away from their hair burning away and the flames ravaging their skin. His muscles twitched in satisfaction when he saw their cocks begin to burn. Their rapist, sinful cocks.

A flash of Maria’s face in his mind snapped Raphael back to the here and now. He raced back up the stairs and headed to the room he knew all too well—that they all knew far too well. The door was shut. He didn’t glance behind him to see whether any of his brothers followed. He didn’t care.

Adrenaline and anger leading the way, Raphael burst through the door. At the sight of the devices and torture machines, his skin went ice cold, but his blood was still scalding hot. He clutched his gun, ready to fire. But the door slammed shut behind him, and Raphael spun around.

Raphael felt bumps break out over his skin. He knew exactly who was behind him. His lip curled when he turned and met the eyes of the priest who had barricaded him in. But instead of rage, Raphael’s feet ground still on the spot and his heart began to beat too fast.

He was here. Father Murray was before him. Raphael began to drown in the memories of the past. As he stared at the face that was the star of his every nightmare, his body began to shut down. He couldn’t move. Could only stare at the man who had been his torturer. Who had pinned him down and fucked him over and over again. The priest’s brown eyes were locked on his. Raphael’s breathing came faster and faster, making him light-headed as Father Murray slowly bolted the door.

“You came,” Father Murray said. Daggers stabbed down Raphael’s spine at the sound of his deep voice.

“Take my cock.” Raphael flinched as the memories devoured his mind. “Beg, heathen. Repent, and I’ll stop.” But Raphael didn’t. Father Murray threw him on the ground and flipped Raphael over to his stomach, the priest’s hard cock scraping over the back of Raphael’s thighs . . . Raphael wouldn’t cry out even though his jaw clenched. As the pain of Father Murray thrusting inside him threatened to tear him apart, Raphael vowed he would never submit to this man.

Never.

Raphael blinked, tearing himself from the memory and back into the room. His chest heaved at the flashback. Hand shaking, he began to raise his gun, keeping Father Murray in sight. But as he went to fire the bullet that would finally rid him of his life, Father Murray said, “You came for her.”

Raphael froze, his finger stalling on the trigger. Raphael’s eyes narrowed. Father Murray smiled. “I knew you would. She’s your greatest fantasy come true.” He moved from the door and across the room, sticking close to the walls filled with knives and hammers and a thousand other weapons of torture. Raphael knew each one all too well. Knew how each one felt on his skin and stabbing into his flesh.

“When I saw her in the monastery, I knew she was the one for you.” Father Murray stopped beside a closed iron coffin. “You told me, remember?” Raphael felt the blood drain from his face at the coffin . . . at what Maria had told him about William Bridge. “After I fucked you for the fourth time. After . . .” Father Murray pulled the metal baton off the wall and held it out to Raphael. Raphael sucked in a shuddered breath. “After I fucked you with this.” Father Murray tilted his head. “Do you remember, Raphael? Do you remember how you told me who you wanted to kill and why?” He smiled. “Because that’s how your mommy died.”