“Your baseball bat. I believe your friends have come to rescue you. You can go with them or stay and kill the beast. It’s up to you.” I hear her footsteps as she walks away. When her silhouette is framed by the open door, she turns and says, “I wonder what you will choose.” And then, she’s gone.

  I should run. I know I should. I should leave and never look back. But the bodies of my mom and grandpa are still here in the dark. I refuse to leave them alone in a place like this. So, I limp across the room toward the open door, stand behind it, and wait.

  “Well, well, well.” Whiteface strolls through the door with far more confidence than he should have, considering. “Looks like our session has come to a close. I hate to admit defeat, but you’re one of the worst students I’ve ever had.”

  As soon as his shadow passes me, I swing the bat at his head.

  He falls, grabbing the back of his skull where I hit him. “Motherfucker! How’d you get loose?” I hit him again when he tries to get up, and his body slams into the concrete.

  The lights flicker to life just in time for me to see the battered monster stand. He slips on the bloody floor and crashes down again. I swing at his kidneys. I don’t want to kill him right away, but I’m not worried about making sure he survives this encounter. In fact, I hope he doesn’t. I just want to make it last.

  He screams in agony when I hit him again. And again. And again. “Turns out you don’t have to admit defeat,” I say. “I may take a little longer than your other students, but once a lesson is ingrained in my mind, I never, ever forget it.” I step on the back of his head and add more weight until I feel something crack.

  As soon as I step back, he lifts his face and spits out a tooth. “You’ve learned nothing.”

  “Not true. I learned a lot. I’m ready to retake your test if you’ll let me. I finally have an answer. The person who should die is you.” I laugh when he tries to stand again and fails. “But you should take a long, long time to do it. You need to feel what your victims felt. I suppose it’s my job to make you.” I kick him in the side and force him onto his back. I barely feel the pain in my leg. I’m fueled by pure hatred now. “I guess that makes you my student.” I kneel on his groin while he screams. “Ooh, you do have balls, after all. I was wondering.” I add more weight, and he screams louder.

  I let up again, and he tries to crawl away. Now he’s the pathetic one. I can’t begin to express how happy this makes me. He inches his way to the door, and I let him. When he reaches it and tries to pull himself through, I slam it on his fingers. Then I open it and slam it again. I will leave him without a single unbroken bone, not an inch of uncut skin. I grab the back of his head and pull his hair until a chunk of it comes away in my hands. “Split ends.” I shake my head and toss the hair aside. “You should take better care of yourself, Caldwell, you filthy, filthy boy.”

  I drag him by the rest of his hair back into the room, and he kicks and kicks to keep up with me so I don’t pull all of it out. “Stop!” he begs, but I just laugh.

  “I’ll give you a choice, Caldwell. You can keep your eyes or your dick. Which is it going to be? What’s more important to a rapist? I really want to know.”

  He gasps and spits more blood down his shirt. “I’m not—”

  “A rapist?” I bring the bat overhead and slam it down on his right shoulder. “But you were so proud of it before. Now you’re going to take it back?”

  He curls in on himself and looks around the room, squinting to see through the blood dripping from his forehead. “Where is she?”

  “Your victim has escaped, Caldwell. And I’m going to make sure she never has to see you again. Or better yet, I’m going to make sure she never has to be seen by you.” I yank back his head and push my fingers into his eyes. The wet feeling of his sockets sickens me. He screams again, but it’ll never be enough. I want him to scream for the rest of his life. “There. I gave you a choice, and you hesitated, so I made the choice for you. See how fun that is? To make it even, you should lose both your options now.”

  I kick him hard in the groin, and when he doubles over, I strike him again in his kidneys. “Guess you won’t be reproducing any time soon, eh?” I laugh at him the way he laughed at me, and I imagine my dead mom and grandpa picking up their heads and applauding my finesse. I take a bow. It feels good to go mad. I think I’ll do it more often.

  After he’s finished groaning and clutching his balls, Whiteface turns his face to me and forces a smile. His teeth are coated in blood, the red of it accentuating his mouth. His face paint is almost completely rubbed off. He wheezes out the words, “You learned.”

  I lift his chin with the end of my bat and snarl down at him. “No thanks to you.”

  “Correct.” His voice is so weak I almost mistake his answer for a hallucination. “I was… never your teacher, Mr. Bachman. I’m only a mask.”

  I hit him hard across the face. “Bullshit. This was all your doing, Caldwell. Just you. You killed my family. You raped that poor girl. You pay the price.”

  “That poor girl.” He chuckles through his pain. “I didn’t touch her… I wouldn’t dare. None of you in the House of David ever bother to look behind masks, do you? You never care who’s wearing them. Who do you think was behind Athens? Who was behind this mess in Paris? It wasn’t me.”

  “I don’t care.” I swing at his spine, and he falls to the floor, gasping for breath. “I watched you pull the trigger. It doesn’t matter who told you to do it.”

  He coughs out more blood. “No… I expect it doesn’t. You’re going to kill me either way.”

  “Yes.”

  “But wouldn’t you like to know who’s wearing the Whiteface mask?”

  “I assume it’s the leader of Seditio. Mary something.”

  “Oh, she’s… definitely something. You met her just now. What did you think of her? Our girl that got away.”

  A vision of the woman on the floor—a burlap sack over her head, a long black braid draped over her shoulder—dances before my eyes. I can almost hear her voice in my ear, the music of her accent. That was Mary Denau? She seemed so… normal. So that was what Whiteface meant when he called the mystery girl a monster. But he also showed a side of himself I’m sure he never meant to show. He’s obsessed with Mary. He’s jealous of her attention. Maybe he even loves her, as much as a creature like him can love. And suddenly, I know how to torture him far better than I could with a baseball bat. “That’s so weird,” I say, “because she was the one who let me go.”

  Whiteface’s body stiffens at the news, and I know I’ve struck home.

  “Yeah, she let me go and handed me the bat. Then she told me to kill you.” I laugh as he shakes his head.

  “You’re a bad liar,” he says, but there’s no conviction in it.

  “I’m the worst liar you’ll ever meet, which is how you know I’m telling the truth now. She wants you dead, Caldwell. She’s tired of dealing with your shit. You’re nothing to her—disposable, all used up.”

  His cheeks redden, and he suddenly lashes out, swinging wildly. But I’ve damaged his eyes, and he’s shadowboxing like a fool.

  I step away from him and continue my barrage. “She doesn’t want you. She never wanted you, but you follow her around with your tongue hanging out. To her, you’re less than a dog.”

  “Fuck you! You’re a goddamn fucking liar!” He continues to swing.

  I back toward my mother’s body and taunt him. “She didn’t even care enough to put you down herself. It’s hilarious! She used you and threw you away when you got too annoying to deal with.” I bend closer to his face and murmur, “Like spoiled fruit.” I breathe in deep so he can hear it. “Yeah, you smell like it too. Like rot. You’re disgusting. No wonder she didn’t want to fuck you.” I take a chance it’s true, and I get immediate results.

  Whiteface rises up and roars. I grab him by his hair and shove him into my dead mom’s face until his cheek is pressed against the hole he left in her. “Her name was Stella Bachman. Why don’t you get to know her a little better? You killed her for nothing, you disgusting piece of shit. At least, when I get out of here, there are more people who love me waiting. You, on the other hand, have no one. You were played like the worthless trash you are, and you fell for it. You deserve so much worse than this, Caldwell. Your mother should have let your father beat you to death.”

  In my periphery, a dark figure passes through the doorframe into the basement, but I don’t care. I push Whiteface further into the corpse of my mother so he can know her—so he can know he’ll never have what I had, not from anyone.

  “Orion? What the hell?” The voice belongs to Eden, but I’m not finished.

  “Eden, meet Caldwell.” I turn Whiteface by his head, and his body follows. “Caldwell, meet my brother, Eden. It’s really too bad you didn’t go after him first. He would have killed you quicker.”

  In the flickering basement lights, blood drips from Eden’s scythe. I know he’s killed a lot of people to get to me, but the way he’s looking at me now… It’s like he’s come to rescue a kitten and found a gore-covered hyena in its place. He says, “What are you doing?” like he doesn’t expect an answer.

  I answer anyway. “This is Whiteface. He killed my friends, my grandpa. He shot my mom in the face. I’m sending him to hell. But just in case it doesn’t exist, I’m giving him a sample of it first.” I drop Whiteface’s body, and he falls like a marionette whose strings have been cut. Tears from his ruined eyes mingle with the blood on his cheeks, and it’s all I ever wanted to see. It’s so… beautiful.

  While he’s stunned, I walk up to Eden and snatch his scythe from his hands. “I need to borrow this for a second.”

  Eden takes in the room, his mouth hanging open. “What did you do here?” he murmurs.

  “I showed him his own god.” And without another word, I swing the scythe at the monster’s neck. It doesn’t cut cleanly for me. I haven’t been trained to use a scythe, but it doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t want him to suffer a second less than he has to.

  “I’m sorry,” Eden whispers. “I should have gotten here sooner.”

  “Oh, but I learned a very important lesson,” I say. “You should be pleased. I’ll never hesitate again.”

  Whiteface twitches a few times before he draws his last ragged breath. It’s weird to see him splayed on the floor in his beige suit. I cock my head while Eden covers his mouth. He’s disgusted, but I don’t know why. I thought he was supposed to be the Grim Reaper.

  As I pass through the basement door, I hand Eden his precious scythe. I don’t even look back at him as I shakily climb the stairs to the kitchen. Upstairs, crimson stains are spattered over the white, floral wallpaper. Three dead bodies lie in a semicircle around a broken wooden table. They look like some kind of ritual sacrifice, except for the bullet holes and missing limbs.

  On my way out of the kitchen, I pass Sarah and Aiden. “Orion?” Sarah says, following me to the main room, which is also painted with the blood of too many people. “Are you okay?”

  “Never better.” My answer is automatic and cold.

  “We worried about you.”

  “Never mind about me,” I say. “How are you all?”

  Aiden answers, “Ying Yue’s dead.”

  I pause and turn, half expecting him to laugh and tell me he’s only kidding, but he doesn’t. I’ve never seen him look so serious, in fact. As for myself, I should be horrified. I should be heartbroken, but I’m so tired, I don’t even have the energy for grief. All I can think is that Ying Yue must have been killed because she was weak. She must have fucked up somehow… like I did. She got cocky and thought she was strong, but she wasn’t. So, it is what it is. The world doesn’t need any more weak people in it.

  11: to seek

  Eden

  For the first time in years, I have the Gate to myself. Except essential crew, everyone is attending Ying Yue’s funeral at the River Jordan. I never knew she’d touched so many lives, but it shouldn’t surprise me. She’s been a physical trainer for all the House’s new recruits for as long as I’ve been a Judge.

  Cain ordered me to stay behind. He didn’t even pretend to have a good reason. “You’re not well,” he said. “You need to get some distance from death.”

  “You sure I don’t need to be immersed?” I replied, only half kidding. “If my coping strategies aren’t working, wouldn’t desensitization be the next logical step?”

  He only frowned and said, “Don’t second guess your doctor, Eden.” But I’m not so sure the decision really came from the House’s psychiatrist.

  At noon, I lie across a bench on deck, balancing Don Quixote over my eyes for shade. Right now, I could be standing on the banks of the River Jordan, honoring my friend who was killed right beside me in combat. She’ll be dressed in a white robe and sandals, as is the House of David’s custom, and they’ll have given her a golden key to symbolize the gates of heaven opening for her. I imagine her lying on a bed of white roses in a small wooden boat that’s being slowly consumed by purifying flames. Once the boat sinks and the water rushes over her body, she’ll be cleansed of any sins she committed in life, or so the House teaches. It’s interesting the way the House somehow formed its own culture and beliefs, its own religion. I sometimes wonder whether that’s a conflict of interest.

  Of course, Ying Yue’s ceremony won’t be complete because her fragment of the Finger of God can’t be removed and passed on to the Judge who replaces her. Whoever the next Judge is, they’ll be the first to take the position without the kind of protection the rest of us have.

  I’m just beginning to doze off when someone knocks on the book resting over my face. I pull it down and squint in the sunlight. From the silhouette of his messy hair, I can tell it’s Aiden. As my eyes adjust to the light, the bruises on his face come into sharp focus. “What the hell happened?” I say. “And why are you back early?”

  “Ask Orion,” he answers. “He’s the one who punched me.”

  “What?” I sit up, snap the book shut, and give him my full attention. “Why?”

  Aiden doesn’t lie. “Because I punched him first.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “During Joseph Cain’s blessing.” Ah yes, the part of the ceremony I prefer to forget. Cain’s blessing. Like he can somehow forgive the sins of the deceased.

  It’s Aiden’s habit to answer only the question asked of him, regardless of whether it would make sense for him to provide more details. You have to squeeze every drop of information out of him, even if he’s approached with the intention of giving it to you. I sigh. “Okay, why did this happen?”

  For the briefest moment, his eyes narrow to slits, and I know he’s seething. Were he anyone else, he’d be pacing and screaming. “He laughed,” he mutters.

  Now I understand. Orion showed disrespect, and Aiden couldn’t tolerate it. The physical altercation must have been something to see. I wonder whether Ying Yue would have found it amusing. “Do you want me to talk to him?” I ask.

  “Do you think it will make a difference?” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a stick of gum. Then he hands another to me.

  “I don’t know,” I say, pocketing the gum. I rarely eat the candy Aiden gives me, but I can’t refuse it, either. I have a drawer of the stuff in my room. For some reason, I’ve never been able to throw any of it away.

  * * *

  I find Orion in the gym, whaling on a punching bag like it personally killed his family. His face is neon with rage, the golden color of his hair standing out even more in contrast. He’s also badly bruised, far worse than Aiden.

  “Orion,” I say.

  He doesn’t respond.

  “Orion!”

  He whirls around. For a second, I think he’s going to lay into me in place of the punching bag, but he pulls back just in time. “Jesus Christ,” he says, grabbing a towel and dabbing the sweat off his face, careful to avoid his cuts and bruises. “Give a guy a warning next time.”

  “I tried.” I sit down at the foot of a weight bench. “You were wrapped up in your”—I gesture to the bag he was destroying—“whatever the hell that was supposed to be.”

  He waves a hastily wrapped dismissive hand. “Just blowing off some steam.”

  “Because of Aiden?”

  His cheeks flush. “That bitch took pot shots at me in the middle of a funeral. One minute, I was enjoying the show, and the next, I was on the ground with the little shit throwing punches at my face. Repeatedly. He didn’t let up until Cain pulled him off me.”

  “You seemed to have gotten a punch or two in yourself.”

  “Yeah, well, you can’t blame a guy for self-defense.”

  “Why did you laugh?” No point in beating around the bush.

  “Because it was funny.” His mouth quirks up on one side. “I mean, have you seen one of those funerals? They’re ridiculous.”

  I cross my arms. “What’s ridiculous about them? Aren’t you just disrespecting our culture? Maybe Aiden didn’t like to see that at his teacher’s funeral? If you wanted to criticize the House’s customs, you could have chosen a better time to do it.”

  Orion rolls his eyes. “She was my teacher too.”

  “It’s not the same. Aiden never had a family like you did. She was his family, and you laughed at her funeral.”

  “Blah blah blah.” He tosses his towel on the floor. “Don’t you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk? Sorry for ruining Aiden’s moment, but I had to watch a guy laugh while he killed my entire family. I think that’s a bit worse.”

  I groan and rub my forehead. “This isn’t the trauma Olympics, Rion.”