Chapter 12

12

M idnight arrived both far too soon and not soon enough. Not long past the hour, there was a familiar, soft knock at my door.

"Come in," I whispered to Abby.

She opened my door just far enough to slip inside. "I can hear our father snoring," she told me. Creeping up in front of their door to listen had to have been unnerving, but she'd insisted she be the one to do it. I didn't argue. I could tell it was important to her to have as much of a hand in all this as possible, and I kind of got it. She wanted to know she'd helped bring our parents to justice. If she was feeling anything like me, it was a sort of atonement.

"Then it's time," I said, slipping my backpack onto my shoulders. Abby was also wearing hers, so I knew she'd already taken the time to grab anything important to her. There was a good chance she might not have the opportunity to collect her things in the future.

"You okay?" she asked me.

I shrugged, tucking the small lock-picking kit Gus had given me into my pocket. I hoped I'd do him proud. Two days wasn't exactly a lot of time to learn how to break into places I wasn't wanted.

We crept down the hallway, expertly avoiding the squeaky spots. The slow pace to the stairs put me even more on edge, and I felt like I'd jump out of my skin if the house so much as creaked. I didn't like it. Unfortunately, we could only go forward because there was no turning around and pretending everything was fine. It would be okay, I reminded myself. We'd find what we needed and get out.

We managed to cross the house's ground floor in the dark without tripping over anything, which seemed kind of like a miracle, given how nervous we both were. By the time we were at the locked door to the study, my heart was pounding so hard in my ears that I wasn't sure I'd even be able to hear Abby whispering to me. I stared at the door momentarily before Abby's clammy hand squeezed mine. The evidence of her nervousness had the weird effect of calming me down, and I took a deep breath before letting it out slowly. I did it again and could finally hear the world around me again.

"You can do it," Abby whispered in my ear. She squeezed my hand before letting go, and I pulled the picks out of my pocket.

She was right. I could do it. I'd proven that while the old janitor stood behind me and offered guidance. It had been worth the two lunch breaks of frustration to get it finally, and now I'd make use of the skill I'd picked up in a suspiciously quick manner. Maybe I was born to pick locks? Maybe it was part of the funky rules that kept changing as to how I could and could not be helped with this.

I wasn't going to question it. Instead, I got out the tension wrench and rake pick and got to work. It took more wiggling than it had at school, and that, in turn, got my anxiety levels up again. The door wasn't budging, and nervous sweat began to bead on my forehead.

"Breathe," Abby reminded me softly.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath again. Then another. Then I moved the pick again andfelt the lock give up the ghost. I gave a quick mental prayer of thanks and slowly opened the door. We slunk inside the office, quietly shutting the door behind us.

Abby let out a massive sigh of relief. "Oh thank god," she whispered as her phone lit up, allowing us to see our way to the desk. As I wiped the sweat from my brow, I glanced around the dim space to see that it was pretty much the same as the night I'd been in the room last, though the pictures were unsurprisingly not where they'd been left when I'd discovered them.

We cautiously turned on the desk lamp, relieved to discover it was quite a bit less bright than the ceiling light would have been. "What even is the point of a light that dim?" Abby asked scornfully.

"It looks expensive," I whispered back. And it did, with its heavy metal base and stained glass shade. "It's probably more of a status symbol than anything meant to be functional. Kind of like those bookends." I gestured toward two large chunks of polished green marble holding up several books on the desktop, including what looked like an antique bible. "Those are needlessly massive and heavy. Why the hell does he need them on his desk except to make him look impressive?"

"He's disgusting on so many levels," Abby said as she opened a drawer and started rifling around. "Go check the filing cabinet," she said, gesturing toward the large wooden cabinet with a nod.

We went through every desk drawer and the entire filing cabinet. There was nothing.

"Fuck," Abby hissed.

I had to agree. "Let's start checking books," I suggested. "One of them might be hollow, or maybe they've been put up in such a way to hide something behind them in the bookcases, or maybe they've got photos tucked in pages." I glanced at the antique bible on the desk again. Something about it bothered me, though I couldn't say what. I carefully slid it out of the stack and realized what was wrong when my fingers ran against the edge of the pages. "They're glued together," I said.

"What?" Abby asked, leaving off where she'd started pulling the bookcase apart.

"These pages are glued together," I told her. "They aren't moving when I run my finger along them."

I opened the front cover, and we both inhaled sharply, surprised when we discovered a small safe inside the hollowed-out pages. "Good thing it's a key lock and not a combination," I murmured as I got my tools out again. This lock was far less complicated than the door had been, which made me wonder if our father was cocky or just stupid when he thought no one would find his hidden safe. Both, I decided as I nearly effortlessly unlocked the thing. Definitely both.

I looked at Abby, and she nodded encouragingly. When I opened up the safe, though, she made a gagging sound at the first thing she saw. "Yeah," I told her. "That was my reaction last time."

They were not the same photos, but they showed many of the same adults and some of the same children. In with the pictures was a small USB thumb drive like I'd seen teachers use on the computers at school to hold files, so I pocketed that before spreading the photos out onto the desk and pulling my phone from my pocket. Abby was already opening her camera app, and we started recording video at the same time.

"My name is Ezekiel Graham," I said, giving my full name for the benefit of whoever would view the video, then gave the date and time. "I'm with my sister Abigail. We're in our parents' study, and we found these photos in a book safe on the desk." I started pointing out children I knew from our church who were being made to do things no child should ever do, naming the kids as I went. Then I got to the adults. The local chief of police. The local sheriff. More than one lawyer. Teachers. A fireman. Some local politicians. And our parents. "These aren't the only photos I've found like this here," I said. "So you can see why I wouldn't trust local law enforcement to help stop my parents and their friends."

We wrapped up the video and were about to stop recording and put everything back where we'd found it when the door flew open, causing both Abby and I to let out barely muffled screams.

"You see?" our brother David's smarmy, slimy voice asked. "I told you they were up to something."

David strolled in, looking more smug than usual as our parents entered the room wrapped in rage. "What the Hell do you think you're doing?" our father thundered.

I was incredibly grateful I hadn't hit stop on the video yet. A glance at Abby's phone told me hers was still going, too. "We're making sure you go to jail for the rest of your miserable lives," I said in a voice that sounded far more confident than I was feeling.

"Oh please," David said with a snort. "That'll never happen."

"Our parents literally rape children," Abby told him, giving him a disgusted look. "That doesn't bother you at all?"

I'd been hoping David would at least look shocked by the news, but he only smirked back. "They ask for it," he answered. "It's an honor for them to be chosen by the hand of God and for me to photograph their devotion to our father."

I'm not sure how Abby and I managed to stop ourselves from throwing up on the expensive desk we were behind at his admission, but we did. I was weirdly proud of us for choking down our bile. "I should have known you'd be part of it," I told him. "You're just as disgusting as they are."

" I am the hand of God! " our father yelled at the top of his lungs. It startled anything I thought of saying out of my head, but it didn't stop my sister.

"You're a sick fuck who's going to Hell for raping children!" she screamed back. "We look forward to your inevitable demise, you psycho bastard!"

A glint of light from behind the desk caught my eye as our parents advanced on us, and it was then, as the moonlight poured in to illuminate things, I noticed one of the three massive windows in the room was cracking in front of our eyes. It wasn't a simple, single crack, either. I couldn't even call it a spiderweb. It was a total and complete structural failure, like you'd see from a car's front window after an accident. Still in one piece but fractured absolutely everywhere. It wouldn't take much for it to fall into tiny pieces on the ground.

'Don't tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.' It had to have been a hint on how to escape. We just had to be ready to run.

I glanced at Abby, then at the window, and saw her eyes widen when she realized what was happening. Without hesitating, she grabbed one of the marble bookends from our father's desk. Every religious tome it had been helping support tumbled to the ground as my sister chucked the heavy piece of polished rock at the window.

The sound the window made was horrific and beautiful, but I had no time to contemplate it. Abby grabbed my wrist and yelled, "Come on, Zeke!" Then she dragged me through the now-gaping hole where a window had once been. It took a second for my brain to catch up, but then I ran as fast as I could, keeping pace with her.

I heard our parents shrieking behind us and our father bellow something about getting in the car. We weren't going to have much time until they caught up. That meant it was time to go our separate ways. "You ready?" I asked her, yanking the thumb drive from my pocket and panting slightly from the exertion as I did.

"Ready," she confirmed before holding out a closed fist. "See you tomorrow."

I nodded and bumped my fist into hers before handing her the drive. She veered left, and I went right, darting down an alley I'd discovered. They couldn't take the car down there, but it wouldn't give me much time. I wanted them to keep their focus on me so they'd leave Abby alone, but I didn't want them actually to catch me. It was going to be a delicate balance.

Thankfully, it was the middle of the night, and almost no one was out. It was just enough traffic and stops—assuming my parents paid attention to any lights or signs—to slow my my parents down a little. The alley ended, and I darted back onto the street. I could hear someone driving erratically and breathed a sigh of relief when I heard my mother shrieking my name in that shrill, horrible voice of hers. Abby would be safe. I had to believe that.

I darted through a shopping center, ducking behind buildings as I cut across, then ended up back on the street. I couldn't hear tires screeching behind me, so I was probably safe for the moment, but I darted across the street to be sure, nearly getting flattened by a BMW in the process. I heard the shouts of profanity from the car drift through the air as it shot by, and I shook my head once I stopped trembling long enough to get back onto the relative safety of the sidewalk. That idiot had been going way over the speed limit.

That was beside the point, though, and I was nearly into the parking lot of an industrial complex when I heard the now-familiar screeching of tires and my mother's voice. I wasn't sure which was the worse sound, but at least it gave me plenty of warning that they were behind me. I'd be near the airport soon, and the traffic there would halt their progress a little more than standard midnight traffic had.

"We'll kill you, you ungrateful son of a bitch!"

It was apparent my mother didn't realize my phone was, in fact, still recording. I hoped it got her words, though it would be hard to prove she'd meant me and not possibly another driver on the road. At any rate, it would give clear evidence of her shining personality. On one hand, I wanted her to rot in Hell. On the other hand, I was starting to feel like even the nasty parts of Hell deserved better than her.

I ran out the other side of the complex's parking lot and took another alley I'd discovered via satellite mapping. That dumped me out a stone's throw from the airport, and I was back on the main street. I'd been correct about the traffic being heavier, and I had to wonder what kind of flights were coming in and out that late at night, but it gave me a moment to catch my breath before I continued to run for my destination. I was rapidly reaching my limit; my lungs burned to the point I almost couldn't breathe anymore, and I was positive the only thing keeping me on my feet was the adrenaline that was coursing through me mercilessly.

They were getting closer. I could hear them behind me, but I didn't look back, having taken that little piece of advice from my mysterious benefactor to heart. I was beyond relieved when I knew I was nearing my destination, and the adrenaline slowed at that relief. I stumbled, my body hitting a parked car before I pulled myself upright and forced my feet to keep moving.

I'd never been inside a Denny's before but heard cracks about it from Gabe. Regardless of what the chain's reputation may or may not have been and whether it was warranted, the place looked like something straight out of Heaven. I half ran, half stumbled into the parking lot. "The dumpster," I muttered as I reviewed what I remembered from the overhead image. "Should be around back, directly behind the building. Here's hoping no one's parked there." Gabe hadn't been concerned about that, I assumed, considering he'd never mentioned what to do if there was a vehicle in the spot, so maybe there was something in place to keep people from wanting to park on top of the portal to Hell.

I heard my parents' car careen in behind me, but I was already yanking the tarot card I'd carefully kept on me out of my back pocket. It started to glow when I grabbed it, and I tossed it to the ground. "Gabe, I could really use a hand right about now."

The light was immediate, and I hissed at how painful it was to my eyes. I looked down and realized it wasn't beneath me, just around me, like a protective barrier. If I squinted, I could sort of see through it. I looked over to see my parents getting out of their poorly parked car—a car that appeared to have a few new dents—and the looks on their faces told me that if they could get to me, they really would kill me. Something Gabe had once told me popped into my head. "Give them the finger and tell those fuckers you'll see them in Hell."

I wasn't the sort to swear at anyone, but...

They advanced on me, screaming something about demons and black magic, and I extended both middle fingers, holding them in front of me with a wide smirk. "See you in Hell, fuckers!"

Honestly, the whole thing felt better than I expected it to. I had no intention of making it a habit, but I was starting to understand why Gabe swore so much.

I looked at my feet again to give my eyes a rest from the light's glare, and from the ground rose two hands, both a very familiar shade of blue with black talons. I nearly wept at the realization I was finally safe. One of Gabe's hands grabbed the tarot card I'd tossed to the ground while the other patted my foot encouragingly before the long fingers wrapped around my ankle and pulled.

I slid through the ground effortlessly, laughing triumphantly at the looks of outrage and fear on my parents' faces before the living world, the world I'd grown up in, slipped out of view.