Chapter 4

4

SLOAN

M y eyes are puffy and ache while my cheeks burn like I've scrubbed them raw and then rubbed salt on them. Both of those are nothing to the pounding in my head. It's like my skull is about to be split in half. With a groan, I lift a lead filled hand to my temple.

Whatever I'm on shifts, startling me enough I throw my arms out to balance myself. Well, I try to. What actually happens is one arm is stuck to my side while my flailing hand crashes into something fleshy that grunts at the impact.

"Oh, god, I'm sorry," I attempt to croak out. Blinking rapidly, my head clears enough to take in that I'm being held on Bones' lap and it's his face I just inadvertently slapped.

"You're good." His voice is quiet but it rumbles in his chest like a stampede of buffalo. It soothes my racing pulse, as does his scent of warm autumn days and rich leather. His arms loosen around me but he doesn't let me go. I'm not in any hurry to get up, anyways. I'm so freaking drained.

"Water?" he asks, and I nod in answer. He reaches over me and then holds a cheap bottle of water in front of me. My hands shake as I take it, but I'm relieved that I don't have to ask him to twist the white semi-opaque lid off. The water is lukewarm, room temperature, and absolutely delicious as I guzzle it down.

When I've drained the bottle he takes it, the thick plastic crinkling in his huge hand, and tosses it through the air. I follow its trajectory, mildly impressed that it lands squarely in a small black trash bin.

Right now, it's like nothing else exists in the world. I think I'm so cried-out that for the first time since Bones' saved me during the attack on their clubhouse, I've been able to exist almost peacefully. Instead of wrapping myself in apathy and numbing myself against the world, I'm just me. I'm just here. With him.

I feel safe for the first time in years.

"Where are we?" I ask after a long stretch of silence. My mind immediately starts to compare Bones to the men at the compound but I force those thoughts quiet. Right now, I want to simply be. I'll have to deal with the rest of the world, eventually, but I want to put it off as long as I can.

"My apartment."

It's small, a bit sparse and definitely not what I'd expected.

"I didn't realize you had your own place," I murmur while taking in what I can see. We're on a couch that's pushed up against a long wall that is the entire length of the apartment. The grubby white door with multiple locks must be the front door and it's only about a room's length away from where we sit. A short hallway opens up to the dining and living area, with a narrow galley kitchen to the left of the hall. There's two pale brown doors on the opposite wall perpendicular to each other where the dining area's vinyl flooring meets rough carpet. The one on the right is half way open, giving a view of a neatly made bed. I assume the closed door leads to the bathroom. "I assumed everyone lived at the other place."

Everyone in the Light Justiciars lived in their compound. If you owned property outside, that meant you weren't dedicated to the cause.

"Nah," Bones answers, not seeming to care that he's still cradling me on his lap. "Most of us stay there because it's easier to have everyone close but we've all got our own places too. It's a freedom we refuse to give up. Reaper would never ask us to, though."

I look down at my lap, picking at invisible lint on my borrowed jeans. It's weird being in these clothes, but I'm so grateful for whoever dropped them off for me. I hope they burned the white cassock I was forced to wear. If I never saw it again, it'd be too soon.

"It wasn't like that for me." My words are quiet, barely louder than my breathing. Bones hears me though, since his chest tightens under me. Maybe it's because of what Bones promised me, but talking about the compound and my experiences are less scary right now. Not like the storm that took me over earlier at the bar.

"Sorry about freaking out, by the way," I add, a bit louder. Bones doesn't say anything. His thumb starts stroking back and forth on my thigh where he's holding me. It's distracting in the best way. "I don't know what I can tell you guys about them, but I'll do my best. I hate them. I hate him."

I drop my head against his shoulder, my cheek pressed up against the warm leather of his vest. I don't make any attempt to get up and he doesn't make me. I stare across the room, looking at the collage of prints framed on his wall without really seeing them. It's easier to let things out this way. "I was seventeen when I joined the Justiciars."

Memories flash between my eyes and the prints. Of a young man with a too-charming smile, my frustrations at home, how he'd made me feel special. Seen. Loved. I don't let them take over. I'd refused to think about him for years and I won't think of him today. Maybe later I'll have to explain exactly why I joined them, but until then I'll keep the shame buried.

"I thought they were the family I'd always wanted. They made me feel important. Understood and accepted, you know? It was easy being there for the first year. I thought I was happy. I'd dropped out of high school, so I didn't know much. They gave me cleaning duties, which I was glad to do since they made it seem like I was a part of something bigger. Father Xavius started paying me more attention, having me join him for meals. Just talking about little things. Like he was a friend."

How na?ve I'd been. If I could go back in time, I'd scream at my younger self to run, to ignore all of their pretty lies. My heart begins to race, its thumping growing louder in my ears. I focus on the consistent touch of Bones' thumb moving back and forth like a comforting metronome.

"What changed?" Bones asks when I'm quiet for too long.

Anger, the anger that's been a glowing coal I've buried only deep enough to hide it from the justicars, flickers bright enough as if it knows it can reveal itself here.

I glare at a black and white photo of a desert landscape with Joshua trees against a storming sky. It's as if that photo print is how my life has been for the last decade. A storm ready to rage but trapped in monotone in order to survive. My voice hardens,"I don't know how they figured it out. I never knew about my ability to amplify their abilities. Abilities they condemn as unholy in anyone other than justicars." Bitterness seeps into my tone.

Bones doesn't say anything, and it... it makes me feel free . Free in a way I haven't for a very long time. The smallest flame flickers to life from my nurtured anger.

"They started with little things. Like making their voices louder, or extending the reach of someone who can transport things. They even started having me assist the few healers we had. If they'd stopped there, I don't think I'd ever have refused." I swallow hard as -that- memory turns my stomach. "They'd captured a vampire demon. They couldn't break him. So Father Xavius demanded I help. I refused. He punished me. He made sure it was enough that I wouldn't refuse again. And I didn't."

Bones' stroking thumb stills as his chest vibrates under me with a low growl. It lasts only a heartbeat before he's rubbing my thigh again, his grip purposely light on my thigh. The rest of him is tense. Restrained. I like it more than I should.

I clear my throat and continue, needing to get this part out at least. "Since that day, I have hated him. I hated them . I saw them; the evil beneath their warm and magnanimous smiles and words. I swore I'd escape someday, even if it killed me. Except, it's like Father Xavius knew my thoughts. I wasn't left alone after the first time I tried to run. Then when I tried to kill myself, he made others pay for my actions. So I stopped trying. I started to just survive each day. But I never, never stopped hating them."

Bones shifts me until my blue-green eyes meet his deep brown eyes, made brighter by the black tattoos surrounding them. This close they remind me of burnished bronze, his irises like their very own galaxies alone in the void of space.

"If you had a chance to bring them down, would you?"

His question fully ignites the anger I've been holding on to. I answer without hesitation, "Absolutely."