Dead Man Walking (The Fallen Men 6)

“No, please, don’t hurt him,” I cried out. “I promise I’ll do what you want.”

“Will you?” he asked in that low, deep monotone that sent chills down my spine. “I doubt you will. I think you believe you love this sinner, but your good heart has led you astray. Maybe it will do you good to see him hurt.”

Without hesitation, he placed a nail in the middle of Priest’s palm and hammered it home through his flesh into the wall with a dull, meaty thwack.

Priest hardly flinched, holding still, his face utterly immobile even when Seth hammered another nail into the right hand, a matching set of crucified palms.

Satisfied, Seth stepped back to survey Priest spread out for him the way I imagined he did as a surgeon clinically diagnosing his patients. Bile surged up my throat at the idea of Seth’s hands on anyone, but mostly on Cleo, operating on her after he’d been the one to ruin her as if it was some sick joke.

I couldn’t stand the thought of Seth adding more scars to Priest’s riddled flesh, taking perverse pleasure in his pain.

“He isn’t alive enough to feel anything. How can you think I have feelings for someone like that?” I cried out, trying to lace my voice with disdain. “Are you alive?” I addressed Priest in an angry yell. “Truly? Or are you just a breathing husk? So married to death, your life is as narrow as a coffin.”

“Oh, bravo,” Seth said without feeling as he clapped his hands together. “You’re terrible at lying, Bea. It’s that good heart of yours. Now, be quiet while I teach this man an important lesson about wickedness, or I’ll have Billy find a way to quiet you with that knife, hmm? You’ll learn, but a good wife always obeys her husband in all things.”

“I’m not your wife,” I spat, tugging at the ropes through the blistering pain. “I’ll never be anything of yours except a fucked-up obsession.”

Seth leveled me with a cool glare. “We’ll see how you feel when he’s gone.”

I struggled, but Billy moved the knifepoint away from my skin so I wouldn’t accidentally impale myself.

“Please, Billy honey, you don’t need to help him,” I beseeched again. “He’s a very bad man.”

“I know,” Billy whispered on a warbled breath, tears in his eyes. “He killed my mum. He told me he’d kill me too if I didn’t help.”

“Oh, Billy.” I sobbed, terror and hopelessness moving through me like poison, leaving an acrid, chemical tang on my tongue. “Trust me, Priest won’t let that happen.”

Billy didn’t look convinced, which was fair because when I glanced over at him, Seth had cut open his shirt with Priest’s own knife and was dragging the edge clean through his skin while he explained where the vital organs are.

“If I stabbed you just here,” Seth said almost lovingly as he stared at the blood seeping down Priest’s torso. “You’d survive, but the pain would be exceptional.”

“Do it, then,” Priest offered dispassionately.

Seth stalled, confusion flickering across his face.

Priest answered his unspoken question. “You can hurt me as much as you want, motherfucker. So long as you aren’t hurting Bea.”

“Ah, you think you’re in love with her,” he taunted, digging the blade an inch into Priest’s left side just below his ribs.

“I know nothing about love, but I know about death. And I am not afraid to die for her,” Priest stated, his eyes finding mine over Seth’s shoulder.

They were a deep, clear green in the yellow light of the construction lamps. I could read everything in that blank expression, the love he felt but couldn’t explicitly voice, the resolve he had, and most of all, the confidence.

I breathed deeply, the dirty, bloodstained white gown torn to ribbons at my bloody back fluttering under my throat with my exhale. I’d been right. He did have a plan.

Seth’s entire body seemed affected by a swift change brought on by Priest’s declaration, his muscles curling his frame in on itself, his muscles straining too tight. When he plunged the dagger into Priest’s side and twisted, he did it with a little hiss of pleasure.

“There are so many ways to kill in the Bible,” Seth explained as he left the knife in Priest’s torso and leaned close to preach in his face. “I wonder which God and I will decide on to kill you.”

A smile sliced bloody and raw across Priest’s face before he lunged forward, snapping his teeth at Seth’s neck. They landed on the side of his throat, and with one vicious jerk of his head, he tore a mammoth chunk out of the fleshy column.

Seth stumbled back, hands clutched to his throat, blood sluicing through his fingers and down his dark sweater with his mouth open in surprise.

Priest spat out the ragged lump of skin and grinned manically. “I doubt you’ll get the chance,” he finally replied with red-painted teeth, blood dripping from his lips as he smiled that feral animal smile.