The Lost Saint
Page 70

I remember screaming. I remember fighting. I remember watching Daniel try to grapple with the person who’d grabbed him. But before I knew what was happening, I’d been seized by three guys who pulled me away from the open door. Another three had Daniel.
Jude led the pack as Daniel, Gabriel, and I were dragged up the stairs and then into the dark upper-level room. It looked like it had once been a large office, but it was now decked out like a luxury hotel room from the Victorian era. Thick, plush curtains covered the windows that would normally look down on the warehouse floor. A large wardrobe was tucked away in one corner, and the only light in the room came from the flickering of a dozen candles on an ornately carved table. A large four-poster bed filled the middle of the room, covered with a lush velvet bedspread and pillows. While the boys downstairs slept on warehouse shelves, whoever occupied this room obviously cared much more for his own comfort.
Talbot stood by one of the bedposts, and I assumed this was his room until he directed our attention to a dark, recessed alcove. With a bowed head, Jude went to stand beside Talbot.
“Now that you’re all finally here,” Talbot said, “our father wishes to see you.”
The boys who held my arms stiffened and exchanged a half-horrified, half-delighted look. Almost as if this was the first time they’d even seen their “father.”
“You made it too easy,” a voice snarled from the shadows of the alcove. Something body-shaped shifted, and then two yellow glowing eyes appeared in the dark. “It almost ruined the fun.”
That voice. What is it about that voice? Something about it makes me feel like I’ve been ripped open.
Daniel’s face went ashy white. He took a step back, but one of his captors pushed him forward. Did the voice sound familiar to him also?
“This is a game to you?” I asked. “Who are you? Tell us what you want with us.”
“Oh, you always were a bossy little brat,” that eerie voice said. “I never could stand you and that obnoxious little dog of yours. Do you have any idea how much I enjoyed watching your face when you found her dead on your porch? Almost as much fun as ripping out her throat.”
The man laughed and stepped out of the shadows. He had hair so blond it was practically white, a large cleft in his chin, and a crooked, evil smile. He looked almost exactly the same as the few times I’d seen him when I was a kid.
“You,” Daniel said under his breath, like he was cursing.
I shot a look at him. His face was so pale I thought he was in danger of passing out. My stomach clenched into a knot.
“Caleb Kalbi,” Gabriel said, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Finishing what should have been done the moment Daniel was born.” Caleb turned his murderous eyes on his son. “I should have smothered you before you took your first breath.” He stepped toward Daniel, his hand outstretched like he wanted to snap his neck.
“Don’t you touch him!” I shouted, and pulled against the guys holding my arms.
Caleb laughed. “Oh, you are a tasty treat. I can see why Talbot might hesitate bringing you in. I can imagine that he wanted you for himself.”
“Father,” Talbot said, “I told you, I was bringing her to you all along.”
“I am joking, my son,” Caleb said. “Only joking.”
My eyes flitted from Talbot to Caleb. Didn’t Gabriel tell me that Caleb was the one who was behind the attack on Talbot’s parents? Wouldn’t Talbot know this? How could he call Caleb Father? Why would he even be helping him? Then again, for all I knew now, Talbot’s entire story could have been fabricated. His being the last Saint Moon could be a total lie. Except the way Gabriel stared at him, as if looking at a ghost, made me wonder otherwise.
But before I could say anything, Caleb snapped his fingers, and the guys who held me let go of my arms and pushed me toward Caleb. I stumbled forward. Caleb grabbed my face with one of his hands, cupping my chin with his long fingers. His fingernails jabbed into my skin. I could barely hear Daniel shouting at his father over the pounding of my pulse in my ears. My muscles seared with a burning pain more intense than I’d ever endured before.
“It was nice of you to dress the part. Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf.” He looked me over from head to toe. He trailed the fingers of his free hand down my arm, making my skin crawl under his touch. He leaned in, his mouth close to my ear. “My, what nice assets you have, my dear.”
“Better to burn you with,” I said, and swung my arm up with a flash of power and smashed my silver bracelet against the side of his cheek.
Caleb screamed. He let go of my face and slammed my arm away from him. A large angry burn blistered up along his cheekbone.
My arms went up in a defensive position, but before I could act, three of Caleb’s boys were on top of me, binding my arms and legs. I kicked and screamed and tried to flail as they forced me to my knees. Caleb glared down at me, rage burning in his eyes.
“Who let her wear silver in here?” Caleb shouted. “Tell me!”
He scanned the boys in the room. I could hear them all take in a breath. They all feared Caleb—their father, so to speak.
Jude stepped forward from beside Talbot, his head still bowed submissively. “I am sorry, Father. I did not realize her bracelet was a danger. I thought it was just a trinket with her costume.”
“Well, take it off her now!” Caleb roared.
Jude shot him a look, then ducked his head even lower and approached me. One of my captors held out my arm to him. I stopped struggling and tried to meet my brother’s eyes as he stooped in front of me. But he wouldn’t look at my face.
“I know there’s still good in you, Jude,” I whispered. “You were always such a saint … and now you’re lost. But you’re still my brother. You wouldn’t have called to warn me if you didn’t still care.”
“I am not your brother,” Jude whispered angrily. “You betrayed me. This is my family now.” Jude’s hands hesitated over my bracelet, anticipating the burns.
“What kind of father would force you to hurt yourself?”
“You hurt me worse than any burn.” He snatched my bracelet off my wrist and cast it aside. He shook his hand as little blisters bubbled up on his fingertips.
“I love you,” I whispered. “I’m your sister. I want to take you home.”