Fear the Wicked (Illusions Series Book 2)(18)
Not caring about trusts, not wanting a penny of the wealth that had been left to me, all I wanted at that moment was to turn around, climb in my truck and get the hell out of town.
Yet, here I was, staring at an empty house, knowing I had no other choice but to walk in. Every step felt like a heavy stone was tied to my foot, each inch I crawled closer chasing a shadow across my bones stuffed full with the reminder of the pain I'd suffered growing up.
Jericho and I had been treated similarly by my father, but it was my antics mostly that were noticed. Many times when people reported some stunt we'd pulled or supposed 'sinful' act, I received most of my father's wrath. I was the darker twin in his opinion, the one closely tied to the devil in his attempts to influence us both.
After a while, I'd grown so accustomed to the constant crawling and vicious lashings that when Jericho had messed up alone and gotten caught by a teacher or a nosy neighbor, I'd lied and claimed it was me. He was always weaker in that regard, unable to bear the painful punishments and unhinged scorn on the part of my father.
Jericho, despite what he'd grown to become, had at one time been soft.
Dad had been right, I was the darker twin, the one more prone to questioning authority and seeking excitement and entertainment in areas and subjects thought perverse or shameful by the members of a conservative Catholic community. But I couldn't help my fascinations, especially when they were waved in my face every day as a possibility that was always just out of reach due to a religion I wasn't quite sure I believed.
So like any rebellious child, I'd explored and tasted the sinful things. I stole gum at ten, other higher priced items as I grew older. I lied to my teachers and parents. I slept with women once their beauty caught my eye. Slowly, but surely, I crept through the places my father always told me to avoid, acting in ways that went against everything he demanded of me, and found that my tastes only grew darker the older I became. Vanilla sex, hearts and flowers type love, innocence and finer things all fell into a state of perpetual boredom until I discovered the true ways to liven up the endless days I spent sheltered in privilege I didn't deserve.
Jericho was a different story. From the minute we were expelled from the womb, he had always shone brighter. The quietest baby, the respectful toddler, the child that found early on how much he loved to sing in the church choir, Jericho was a shining light that only became dim when he went along with something I wanted to do. He was made of the same glimmering gold as the treasures housed in the grand beauty of our parish, and I was the air that tarnished him.
He was also the twin who screamed the loudest during my father's punishments, the one who cried and genuinely repented for his sins.
I guess times have changed since then.
Now I'm the one left licking my wounds while he sits on the throne of evil he'd created in the cult he called his family.
Father Timothy told me the answers regarding my brother's issues might be found in this house, if only I could find where to look. Regardless of what Father Timothy may have known or even suspected, by sending me here, he wasn't only sending me home...he was sending me straight to hell.
EVE
When I woke up, I had to blink my eyes a time or two to focus on the familiar surroundings. My stomach hurt so bad that I was curled over myself, cradling my abdomen beneath trembling arms, my hip and shoulder sore from having slept on a hard platform instead of a bed.
The cabin.
I hadn't been near this place since the week I spent with Elijah after we married, hadn't seen it this clearly since the morning I woke up, tired and in pain, foggy and unbalanced. Elijah had promised me the evil had been cleansed, that after the ceremony, I wouldn't get sick any longer. The memory of that conversation was broken and disjointed, but I remembered the promise nonetheless.
Why had I run? Why had I opened myself up to the evil he'd worked so hard to chase off? It only left me confused again, sick and in pain.
Like now, with this feeling in my gut that something was shredding me from the inside out.
It was late in the day from what I could tell, the crimson pinpricks of dying sunlight piercing the small natural holes in the wooden walls to stain the room in reds and golds. It wasn't much light to illuminate the room, but much wasn't needed with the plethora of candles lit and swaying on some soft breeze. Dust motes danced in the barely there movement of air.
I would have preferred to push myself into a seated position, but the pain in my abdomen was too intense. Instead, I lay there helplessly, my teeth clenched so hard I was sure I'd crack the enamel. Left with only a partial view of the cabin due to the position in which I lay, I wasn't sure I was alone. Groaning, I gave every indication I was awake. Elijah's voice didn't boom or even whisper in response.
Finally losing the patience to see if he would speak first, I called out his name. Nothing.
Leaving me unattended wasn't like Elijah, especially considering I woke up unbound and free to move around. Unfortunately, the pain inside me prevented it. And despite the oddity of the moment, being alone didn't last long. Within minutes the old door opened and the devil himself walked in.
"I brought you more tea," he said, his lips pulling into a practiced grin.
Devil. It hadn't occurred to me until he spoke that it was the word that came to me when I first saw him. The sickness must have been speaking inside my head. The sickness these demons caused each time they attacked me.