Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Gabriel stiffened. “Well, she’d been pissed off about not being able to ever since.”
“She will die soon,” Abaddon said and nodded at the passage ahead. They were headed for an exit close to the underground garage.
Gabriel looked back so abruptly he walked into a closed door. He needed to pay more attention to his surroundings, because at this rate he’d be bruised all over by the time they left the tunnels.
They kept quiet until Sister Beatrice’s room had been left far behind. Gabriel only spoke once he took a turn down the corridor and faced a door disguised as a wall. “This is a dead end.”
“Press the star plaque to your right,” Abaddon said in a low voice. “Careful. There might be someone in there.”
Gabriel nodded and took a deep breath before pressing the circle. “I’ll take a peek and let you know.”
He was stressed by this, of course, but had God not intended for the boy to be involved in the process, they wouldn’t have met over Watson’s body. Perhaps closure and retribution were what he needed to heal from his past ordeal.
Not much was left of the original interior of the garage. Only the names of grape types written on the walls with black paint that was now chipping proved that this place used to serve as a wine cellar. And whatever scents used to hang in the air in those olden days, had been replaced by the sweetness of gasoline and motor oil.
Several vehicles were parked in a single row at the very back of the low-ceilinged space, but which one was Rogers’?
“What does he drive?” Abaddon asked, hurrying toward the cars.
“It’s that one,” Gabriel pointed out a large Mercedes before nervously glancing at the open doors at the top of a slope leading outside. “Jesus Christ… God better be on our side, because if we get caught, we’re going to prison for life.”
Gabriel would. Which meant Abaddon needed to tie all loose ends for his sake.
He dove his hand in his pocket, only to realize that he hadn’t searched Roger’s body for keys. Ugly words pushed at his teeth with a momentum that should have knocked them out, but Abaddon exhaled, rolled his head, and dropped the corpse to the floor. “We need his keys.”
Gabriel slid his fingers into his black hair and squeezed. “Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. They were on the desk. Why didn’t I think of taking them? I’m so stupid.” He groaned, looking around in panic. “Maybe I’ll go back?”
Abaddon’s skull felt like a pressure cooker, but when Gabriel came up with that proposition, something clicked in his mind, and he stopped him with a gesture.
“No, that’s okay,” he said, already eyeing the radio antenna on the vehicle. It was a vintage model, in a beige shade some people considered elegant, and its age was what would make this easy. Abaddon grabbed the metal antenna and tugged on it so hard it tore out of its place on the roof.
Each movement he made soothed some of the stress he’d felt just moments ago, and by the time he placed the telescopic metal rod by the window and pulled its tip back with his other hand, his breathing had become normal.
He exhaled and let the metal whip go, making it smash the very corner of the driver’s window.
The glass crumbled.
Gabriel covered his own mouth halfway through a yelp. “You know how to break into a car? You better know how to drive as well, ‘cause I don’t have a license.”
“We’ll be fine,” Abaddon muttered and leaned over to open the passenger door before diving under the steering wheel to get the cables out.
He was on autopilot, as if God himself was guiding his fingers, and in a matter of minutes, the car was ready to go without a single beep of an alarm. He opened the trunk, and with Gabriel’s help, Rogers was packed inside.
They were too busy to chat, but Abaddon’s mind raced. He’d been too hasty, too eager to take out this human piece of trash after his success with Watson. He needed to be smarter with his next strike, more prepared, and ready to get rid of the rest at a similar time. With almost a month to go until the next ritual, he’d have time to follow his marks, find out their routines, and choose the best time to attack each one.
Instead of getting in, Gabriel stood by the car until Abaddon crooked his head and asked, “What’s wrong?”
“I just… I don’t know. I’m not allowed out without supervision,” he said as if hadn’t discovered that the whole reason for needing it in the first place had been made up. Abaddon would gladly remind him and show him that he was free.
“Says who? The guy in the trunk?” He wanted to take his time with this conversation, but they were out in a public space and could be walked in on at any moment.