“You can’t kill an innocent, Raphe. I won’t allow it.”
“She’s not an innocent.” Uriel stepped forward from his place against the wall. His arms were folded over his chest. “She’s with the Brethren. She’s anything but innocent.”
Something pulled in Gabriel’s gut. Something that wanted to agree with Uriel. But Gabriel had looked into the woman’s eyes. He’d seen her confusion when she discovered the Fallen. The fear. He’d seen her staring at Raphael’s back, at the scars they all shared. There was shock and sadness in her eyes, not recognition of the Brethren’s punishments. He didn’t know how they did it, but he was sure the woman had been deceived by the Brethren. The way he had been as a child. Fooled by their masks of good. She’d had no idea about the predators she would be facing in the Fallen. She couldn’t have. No one would willingly put themselves into a killer’s path.
“The Brethren don’t allow women into their fold. They’re a modern extension of the Spanish Inquisition. They see women as temptresses and weak, as witches susceptible to sin. They wouldn’t take one into their employ. They may be a modern version, but their ideology isn’t.”
“She can’t be allowed to leave, Gabe.” Sela came to stand next to Uriel. He knew the Brethren more intimately than the rest. He had ties to them none of the other Fallen did. “She’s seen where we live. She’s seen us all. She’ll leave this place and go running back to Father Quinn and tell him everything. Believe me. I know first hand. She’ll betray us, and they’ll come for us. You know this.”
Gabriel’s brothers nodded in agreement with Sela. Gabriel faced Raphael, who was watching him just as closely as the stained-glass window of Mary had always done in Holy Innocents Church. He knew they were right. But the thought of allowing the death of an innocent . . . Gabriel couldn’t breathe. Phantom hands wrapped around his heart and squeezed.
But what was his choice? When he had plunged himself into Purgatory years ago, following the dangerous path of his little brother, he had unknowingly signed himself up to being who he was now—the Fallen’s leader. His allegiance lay with them. Their protection was everything.
Gabriel felt a flicker of the light he held dear dim into darkness. A candle snuffed out in a thunderstorm of immorality.
“You get no Revelations for six months,” Gabriel heard himself saying. He felt detached from his body, as though it wasn’t him giving the order to Raphael. His mouth was speaking words he didn’t want to serve. Gabriel could practically feel the uncontainable excitement pulsing from Raphael in his cell. “She isn’t to be allowed out of the manor . . . ever again.” Gabriel felt a spear pierce his side and cut right through his heart. “You keep to your rooms. And when it’s over, you never betray us again.”
“I won’t,” Raphael said. “I promise.” Gabriel finally let himself meet Raphael’s eyes. They were dilated. Uncontained excitement beamed from his brother’s face, Raphael’s cheeks were flushed and his eyes were bright—Gabriel had never seen him so happy. Ever. Gabriel felt physically sick. Raphael was elated at being permitted to take another’s life. Gabriel couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand in the vicinity of Raphael’s triumph. Gabriel turned to Bara. “Make him stay for another few hours, then take him to his rooms. I’ll see she is brought there afterward.”
“Maria,” Raphael said as Gabriel turned to leave. Gabriel stilled. “Her name is Maria.” Gabriel closed his eyes. Knowing her name made it exponentially worse. Maria. Gabriel had just signed the death warrant of a young woman named Maria.
Gabriel climbed the first few steps of the staircase, following the wall’s bend until he was out of sight. The minute he was hidden from view, his legs gave way and his back hit the wall. He slid down the cold stone and sat down on a hard step. Gabriel’s head fell into his hands. He had just given a murderer permission to kill an innocent. Something he had vowed never to do.
He focused on breathing through the burning fire of guilt in his chest. But as he concentrated on not falling apart, he heard, “Yes, brother!” Bara’s unmistakable voice sailed to Gabriel’s ears. “You’re getting it. Getting the kill. What we all dream of. You’ve won the damn lottery!”
“Grab the pen and paper from over there. I need to get some things for her.”
Gabriel was frozen as he heard the sound of feet moving across the stone floor.
It was silent for a few minutes, until, “Nice. Though I take it you need one of us to get all this from our not-so-pure friends.” Sela laughed.
“Yes. And I need it all tonight. But the main piece . . .” Raphael paused; Gabriel knew he would be smiling in excitement. “That only arrives when it’s perfect. It must be perfect. You design it, Sela. You know what I want.”