Ruined

Chapter Fourteen

Sam

By now, someone had to have seen the broken window and called the landlord. The only reason the old man agreed to rent to me was because I swore I’d be no trouble. Forget wild parties. Having a guy show up and attack me, then bust up the place, defined trouble.

So instead of going home, I took a cab to Kelly’s. My aunt had left this morning for some weeklong bingo retreat, so I had the house to myself. I kicked off my shoes, curled into a ball on the couch, and closed my eyes.

Bad idea.

My father’s death had been quick. A broken neck. But my mother’s death… The man—the demon—had played with her. The sick sounds of pleasure, laughing in amusement as my mother begged for mercy, were impossible to tune out. I’d heard everything. Seen everything. It was all coming back.

My strange attacker. My parents’ killer. Jax…

And what about Jax?

Demons were all bad guys, right? That’s what folklore and religion said. They went around causing chaos. Eating babies, stealing virgins, murdering parents. The look in Jax’s eyes when he faced that other demon had been deadly. Rage so primal that it gave me chills. But he wasn’t evil. He couldn’t be. All he’d ever done was take care of me. When I was at my worst, he pulled me from the darkness. Time and time again, Jax had been there.

Answers. I needed answers.

But where did you go to research demons? Asking Jax was out of the question—for now. Then I knew. Who was the best person to ask about the devil?

God.

It was close to 9:00 a.m. by the time I reached Saint Vincent’s church. Double mocha latte in hand, I climbed the narrow stairs and pushed through the ornate double doors as a knot formed in my stomach. The cavernous room was empty, lit with a thousand tiny candles along either side. The rows of polished pews sat like soldiers, lined up and waiting. It hadn’t changed at all.

The floor was carpeted, but I still heard each step as my feet carried me farther inside. Clomp. Clomp. Clomp. It’d been thirteen years since I’d been in this church. Thirteen years, three months, twelve days. Not a day went by that I didn’t think about it. The day they put my parents in the ground.

The memories flooded back despite my best efforts to shelve them. Sitting in the front row with Aunt Kelly, staring at the two large boxes containing my parents’ bodies. The kind but scripted words the priest spoke as half the town looked on. The white and blue flowers covering every inch of the altar. My first glimpse of Chase and Jax, who’d been seated beside Rick several pews behind.

“Can I help you?” A man’s voice broke the spell.

I turned, thankful. Memories of that day only led to thinking about the events that made it necessary. There’d been more than enough of that today. Coming down the aisle toward me was a tall, white-haired priest. “I, ah, was hoping I could talk to someone.”

The priest smiled and gestured toward the confessional at the back of the room. “Confession starts in an hour, but I have a few moments if you’d like to beat the rush.” He winked. “It gets crazy in here. Yesterday we had to pull apart two elderly women.”

Huh. A priest with a sense of humor. That would definitely help.

“No, nothing like that. I actually had some questions.”

He stepped back and slid into the nearest pew, sliding down to make room. “Oh?”

I followed suit and took a deep breath. “Demons.”

“Ah. We all have our demons. Drugs, violence, sex—”

“Um, no.” God, I felt like a moron. “I mean, like, real demons.”

His expression changed. “I see.”

I wanted to run from the building and never look back, but I needed answers. “Are they real? Demons, I mean.”

His right eye twitched, and it was plain to see he was trying to cover up a smile. “Do you believe yourself possessed?”

Okay. Now he was making fun of me. “Of course not.” I shifted in the seat. What I needed was an excuse. “I’m an intern over at the Harlow Journal,” I lied. “I’m helping with some research.”

His eyebrows rose. “On demons?”

“There’s this whole demon worship thing going around some of the college campuses along the Eastern Seaboard. I’m trying to get some basic information about lore and stuff.”

He thought about it for a moment, and just when I was sure he’d dismiss me as a liar, he frowned and said, “As sure as there is a God in heaven, there are demons. Yes. I believe them to be real.”

“And they’re all evil, right?”

He leaned back in the pew. “Evil is a relative term. Are people truly evil?”

“Um, is that a trick question?”

He smiled. “There’s no handbook. Much of these things go on faith. I don’t believe there is black or white, only shades of gray. Demons exist to tempt us into evil. Angels exist to tempt us into good. Who’s to say the right angel couldn’t tempt a demon? Or vice versa? I believe they’re the subtle whispers we hear in our daily battles with morality. ”

“So they’re not fanged, drooling monsters?”

He glanced over his shoulder, then turned back to me. “Not all of my brethren would agree with my beliefs, but no. I don’t think so. In fact, it’s my opinion that you wouldn’t even realize if you walked into one on the street.”

“So you think they’re here. Out there walking around?”

He hesitated, then sighed. “There are many stories, mythology if you will, depicting the path of demonkind after God cast them from heaven. Some believe they reigned in hell, while others insist they were cursed to walk the earth for all eternity.” The priest leaned back, a mischievous look in his eyes. “I met a man once who insisted he was one of the first cast aside, and sat in place of honor in hell, at Lucifer’s right hand. Whether it was true or not is a mystery, but he spun an intriguing tale.”

I bent closer. Now we were getting to the good stuff. “What did he say?”

“He told of a great, bloody war that raged over centuries, slowly tearing hell apart. Lucifer grew tired of his children misbehaving, and like God, cast them out. It is said that they were banished here, forced to live as mortals, stripped of their heritage and forced to sustain themselves on their rage.”

“What about a specific demon. The Son of Cain?”

The priest’s brow furrowed for a moment. “I don’t know of a demon by that name. Do you mean Cain and Abel?”

I shook my head. “I’m not sure? Is there some kind of myth connecting them to a demon?”

“Cain was the firstborn son of Adam and Eve. He grew jealous of his younger brother, Abel, and in a fit of rage, murdered him. The act brought true violence into the world. He was the first murder. There are rumors that Cain’s bloodline was marked by God as punishment for soiling his creation. Some being cursed to carry an unspeakable evil throughout the ages.”

“So then the descendants of Cain are demons?”

The priest smiled. “I think it’s a metaphor for the anger and jealousy in all humans rather than a literal meaning.”

Or, it could be the tall, dark guy I’d loved since childhood was an actual, honest-to-God demon, just like he said…