Page 92 of Drag You Down
The late hour means the streets are clear. I dash across the street, and Zachariah doesn’t even hesitate while chasing me.
There’s only one place I can think of to go.
I lead him toward the courtyard.
The same courtyard where I watched a man die, the one where I met my avenging angel.
I have to make sure Zachariah sees me shimmy my way between the buildings. He follows me, and I’m relieved beyond measure that he’s so wound up he doesn’t question where we’re going.
Once the space opens up, I turn around and wait for him. The lighting here is worse than at the apartment. Every shadow claws at my ankles, threatening to swallow me up. I turn my flashlight to Zachariah, whose face is warped with anger.
“Looks like you’re trapped,” Zachariah says. “You’ll have to beg and hope I’m merciful.”
He isn’t, though, and I’m well aware of that fact.
The thing is, I’m not sure I am either.
Not anymore.
My plan only led me this far, and now that he’s away from Eve, I don’t know what to do. If he attacks me physically, I have to be able to defend myself. I’m younger, stronger, and I… I don’t know what I’m doing.
My eyes flick past him, and I have to hope that my avenging angel — my Daddy — knows where to go to protect me once more.
“All these years,” Zachariah says, shaking his head. “You had a cushy life. You weren’t working, you weren’t tithing. I should have dumped you after your whore mother left me.”
“Don’t you dare call her a whore,” I snap at him, my anger chasing away some of the fear. “She was too good for you.”
Was she too good for me and Eve, too? Was that why she left?
I don’t need to be thinking about that right now, though. All I need to do is worry about stalling until Gabriel can arrive to save me.
Again.
But this time he won’t find me helpless and sobbing, having pissed my pants from fear and desperation alike. This time, he’ll find me standing tall.
Zachariah lunges for me, and instead of evading him, I grab his arm.
His eyes widen in surprise. He isn’t used to anyone fighting back.
I shove him as hard as I can against the brick wall. He gasps and lets out a cry of pain as his head slams against the wall.
“You don’t get to hurt me anymore!” I shout. I punch him in the stomach, but even though I want to hurt him, I slow myself at the last moment.
“Good,” a smooth, velvety voice says from behind me.
I turn around, and I see Gabriel standing there. He smiles at me, and it’s dark and terrifying and so, so beautiful.
Gabriel extends his hand to me. I look at it, at the small thing he’s holding out to me.
A knife.
“Make him bleed, my lamb,” Gabriel says. “Make him suffer, as you suffered.”
My hand is surprisingly steady as I take it from him. “Eve?” I ask, not recognizing the sound of my own voice. It’s harsh, distant, so unlike myself, but I don’t care.
If she’s not okay…
“She’s resting,” Gabriel says. He meets my eyes. “Her back was worse than yours.”
