Fear the Wicked (Illusions Series Book 2)(15)
“Your father confessed much to me in the weeks before his death. He didn’t blame you or your brother for not coming to say goodbye. He’d expected such a rejection. However, prior to dying he wanted the weight of his actions off his shoulders. He wanted to walk through Heaven’s gates having no secrets or burdens to carry. I know of the abuse, Jacob. Of the standards to which he held his children, and I don’t agree with what he did to either of you.”
I didn’t comment on his response, didn’t so much as look at him. My mind was trapped back in that house, in the rooms where I’d been locked away listening to my brother cry out in pain for the punishments he’d received. Father never punished us in front of each other, especially not after we were old enough to defend one another. Even though childhood abuse could explain why Jericho became the man he did, I highly doubted that was the true reason. We both endured it and yet, my anger and hatred had been with myself more than the religion jammed down our throats at every opportunity.
No. Something else warped my brother, it was like pulling teeth trying to find the answers.
“What my father did,” I finally said, “was wrong. I still carry the scars of his lessons and punishments, but it’s not the reason Jericho was cast from the Church.”
Timothy’s head swiveled in my direction, the speed so quick I assumed he must have pulled a muscle in the act. “Have you spoken to your brother recently? Your father assumed that not even the two of you communicated any longer.”
Laughter barked over my lips. “He was right to assume that. Jericho only reached out to me recently.”
“How is he?”
Turning to stare at a man who was a practical stranger, I hated the manner in which he acted as if he personally knew my brother and me. “He’s changed.” Leaving it at that, I waited for Timothy to finally get to the point of the run around we were playing in this conversation.
Timothy nodded his head, his eyes searching my face for more information than I was willing to give him. I wouldn’t turn Jericho in, wouldn’t call out the cult he was running, nor lead the police to the town in which I’d once been priest. Revenge was mine and I wasn’t willing to give it up easily. It was better if nobody knew.
Letting out a deep sigh, Timothy flicked a piece of lint off his pants, turned his head to see how many other people sat in the parish around us. Once he returned his attention to me, his expression was tight, hard with the truth of what he knew about my family.
“You need answers, Jacob. That I can see easily in your eyes. But I’m not the one to give them all to you. I have duties to which I must attend this afternoon, but I’m available for a more thorough conversation in the morning. I can’t give you the answers you seek, not without the right questions being asked first. You should return to your old home, dig for the answers there first and then come back. If you ask the right questions, I can fill in the details without breaking my vows as a priest to hold my tongue.”
I knew my childhood home had stood exactly as my parents left it after death. Left to both Jericho and I, the house hadn’t been touched for many years. My father’s estate had managed the taxes and other such tasks to maintain the inheritance left behind. I didn’t want it, and had never responded to any of their correspondence or phone calls. But perhaps, the answers could be found lingering behind the walls of the place I’d once called home.
“Tomorrow morning, then. I’ll be here at nine.”
He nodded again and reached out to lay a hand over my shoulder. It took effort not to shrug off the contact, but I didn’t want to distance the only person so far who seemed to know more than I realized.
“I’ll see you then. Have a good night, Jacob. Hopefully, God can lead you to the answers you seek.”
ELIJAH
Eve passed out within minutes of drinking the tea I'd given her. Like an angel, she slept peacefully, lost to whatever dreams floated through her consciousness. I took the opportunity to pack her up and drive her to the compound, delivering her to the cabin situated discreetly in the woods out of sight of the family. Only a few knew of this place, Richard being one, and it didn't take long for him to meet me inside, his broad shoulders filling the doorway as he stepped through.
"You needed me?"
Sitting on the platform to the side of where I'd laid Eve's resting body, I brushed my hand over her hair as my gaze tracked Richard's movement through the cabin.
"We may have a slight problem," I mentioned casually and without too much concern.
Despite the calm tone of voice I'd used, Richard's attention snapped to me. "Such as?"
"Eve said something to me last night. She wasn't fully awake, still somewhat trapped in a dream, but her words were clear enough." Locking my eyes to his, I arched a brow. "She's remembering bits and pieces of her time with my brother."
Leaning back against a wooden wall, Richard tucked his hands into his pockets, his bulging belly challenging his shirt to stay tucked into the waistband of his navy blue pants. The buttons of the white shirt were equally as challenged, the material straining to remain closed. "I thought you said you'd screwed her up enough. That the drugs you'd given her had clouded her mind so thoroughly that a week away from our control wouldn't matter."
"They should have," I remarked, turning my eyes back to the small girl silently sleeping. "She's stronger than I thought."