“Want to . . . have to” Before I could see the unwanted fucking sympathy on Styx’s and Ky’s faces, I turned and went to my closet. I pulled out a black Hangmen tank and a pair of boxer shorts. Without looking back, I said, “So get out. I’ll call when it’s done.”
I knew they didn’t leave immediately, but I also didn’t turn around until they were gone. When they were, I stood at the end of the bed and stared down at Phebe. She looked so damn peaceful, but I knew in a matter of hours, when the craving came calling, there weren’t no peace for her to have for days. I gripped the tank and boxers tighter in my fists and fought the fucking pit that was trying to form in my stomach.
Phebe flinched in her sleep. I made my way toward her and drew back the covers. I stared at her emaciated body and imagined what she’d look like filled out and healthy. Shit. I knew, like that, she’d be the best fucking bitch I’d ever seen. I imagined her skin free of gashes and track marks, the color of milk. And a smile on those lips that was due to being free from the shit in her veins and not from some misplaced gratitude for being saved from a sex-trafficking ring.
Forcing myself to move, I slipped the tank over her head. Hades smiled up at me with his Uzi and noose in his hands. My tank hung to the middle of her thighs. I slipped my black boxers over her legs and pulled the cover back over her.
Vike and Flame were watching me from the doorway. “You ain’t gotta do this shit, ’K,” Vike said. “Leave it to someone else.”
“I can do it.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
Flame, for once, was fucking still, and I knew the brother was worried when his black gaze held mine without looking away. “Give her to someone else,” he growled.
I shook my head. “I got this,” I said. Flame shook his head like he was ready to argue. “Flame,” I pushed, then added, “I got you through your shit, right? When we got you out of that nuthouse?” Flame’s nostrils flared and the cords in his neck bulged at the memory. “I can do this for her too.” I ran my hand through my hair. “I . . . fuck, I gotta do this for her too.”
Vike tipped the back of his head against the doorframe in exasperation. Flame looked at Phebe on the bed, and his eyes narrowed slightly. I could tell he was seeing himself on that mattress. He turned on his heel and left my cabin. I knew that was the brother letting go of his protest shit.
“You ain’t always gotta be the one to do this for people, you know?” Vike said. I looked at my oldest friend but didn’t say shit. We had very different views on that point. “It ain’t gonna change the past.”
I put my hand in the air and cut that shit off quick. “Don’t,” I warned. “Don’t fucking go there, Vike. I mean it.”
Vike eyeballed me, but he dropped it. He turned to go. “What’s with you and this bitch? Why d’you even give a fuck?”
I didn’t answer. Mainly because I didn’t know myself. I just needed her to be better. That’s all I allowed myself to accept.
“I need you to take the kid for a few days,” I said instead. “Flame needs time with Madds alone. He ain’t right after the ghost town. Don’t wanna put Ash in that path.”
Vike nodded.
“And don’t be a dick to him.”
Vike gave me a shitty salute.
He left the cabin, and I knocked on Ash’s room door. “Yeah?” he called out.
I opened the door. Ash was sitting on his bed. “Gonna need you to stay with Vike for a few days, kid.”
Ash stared at me, his black hair a damn mess on his head. “Okay.” He got to his feet and started packing a bag. He waited until he was almost done to ask, “This has to do with the bitch in your room?”
I smirked. “Bitch, Ash? Careful, you might actually start sounding like a true Hangman soon.”
His face lit on fire with embarrassment. “Y’all say bitch, so now I do too. It ain’t bad to say that here. You only ever say it about chicks y’all like.”
I nodded, then answered his original question. “But yeah, kid, it has to do with the bitch in my room. And it ain’t gonna be pretty.”
He moved to leave. As he passed me, I grabbed his arm. “You need anything, you go to Vike, Flame or Madds, yeah?”
He nodded and left. I locked my door, then gathered all the shit I knew would be needed over the coming hours. I took a shower and dressed in just a pair of jeans, raking my still-wet hair from my face. Then I pulled a chair to my bedroom and sat down at the end of the bed.
And I waited.
I waited for the detox to begin.
Trying not to let the déjà vu from my past enter my head.
Who was I kidding? There was no fucking chance of that.
So I let my torture begin too.
Blood. Blood, and a fuck-ton of bodies surrounded us. And he was gone. Devin was fucking gone . . .
Chapter Seven
Phebe
“Phebe,” my father called. I ran from my bedroom and into the living room. A man was sitting on the couch. The man was dressed in white and had the blondest hair I had ever seen. Well, except for one other. My Rebekah. But she had gone now. Gone to the prophet’s home to rid the devil from her soul. Soon she would be free from evil, and I would have my best friend and sister back again.
I was counting the days.
“Phebe,” my father said. “This is Brother John.”
“Hello sir,” I said and bowed low. When I had straightened, my father beamed at me.
I smiled.
Brother John rose from the couch and came toward me. He stopped just a few inches away, lifted his hand and placed his fingers under my chin. I looked into his blue eyes as he searched my face. He was smiling at me kindly; I smiled back at him. That seemed to please Brother John, because he nodded and spoke to my father. “She is beautiful. She will make a good Sacred Sister.”
Brother John untied my headdress and pushed it back. My long hair was tied back off my face. He withdrew the pins that held it in place and let it fall around me. It fell all the way to my waist.
“Beautiful,” he said again and ran his fingers through the strands. “Tell me, Phebe,” Brother John asked. “How old are you?”
“I am ten years old, sir.”
“Perfect,” he replied. “And have you yet received your first touch?”
I glanced to my father, who nodded for me to answer. “Yes, sir.”
“She has not been fully broken in, but she has been explored by a brother I am close to, since she was very young. She has the necessary experience.” My heart beat fast as I remembered Brother Abel. The first time I had lain on my bed as he came into my room and removed my clothes. And then he had touched me. He whispered scripture in my ear as his fingers explored my flesh. And then he told me to touch him too. He came back often and did the same things, sometimes more. My father had told me it was God’s will.
“Phebe,” Brother John said, and I blinked. “The prophet has requested you for a special position in our commune.”
Happiness raced through my body, and I smiled with excitement. “Me? The prophet knows who I am?”
“Yes.” Brother John stroked his finger down my face. “And you are to become a very special girl to him and all of the brothers in our faith.”
“I am?”