Page 66 of Ashes to Ash’s

“How would we get them here?”

Cal took a fortifying breath and dug his phone out.

“I can make that happen.” He was tapping on his phone’s screen, and got up to walk out of the room, and a moment later his voice could be heard out there. He’d called them?

I watched my sister with her husband, the teacher she’d pretty much turned inside out with her obsession. Actually, more accurately, I think she’d turned him into a fucking villain from Batman or something. Maybe the Joker.

“We should stay,” Ethan said, his knee bobbing as he tapped his foot on the carpet. He was definitely overflowing with abundant fucking need to kill.

Em focused on him for a moment, then turned back to me.

“He’ll calm down after. Either that or we can go upstairs and fuck, and that’ll burn off some of his excess energy.” Ew. I didn’t want to even think about that, and even Ethan looked affronted.

“I’m not a fucking puppy, although…” He stood up, dragged Em up, and headed for the hallway, tugging her behind him. “Yeah, we’re gonna fuck until you need us.”

Jesus. I followed them, if for no other reason than to make sure they didn’t do it in my fucking bed, and I caught the tail end of Cal’s call. Clearly his parents had heard Ethan’s perverted declaration, because Cal was glaring at his back as he headed up the stairs.

“That’s what I’m saying. They’re all depraved, and I need to be saved. I need help. Please. I want to be good, and clean, and normal. Like you.”

He listened for a moment, and clenched his fist, his voice dropping low, becoming weaker.

“They’re trying to corrupt me, father. To make me a sinner like them.”

A second later he turned and threw his phone at the wall, letting out an enraged scream. I ran over to try and comfort him, but the look he gave me wasn’t one of pain or sorrow, or even frustration.

“Cal?”

“They’re going to die, and they don’t even see how much they deserve it,” he said almost gleefully. Fuck. Did we break him too? Were we destined to break the ones we loved, just to make them choose us?

When their car pulled up outside the house, we watched them park up and head for the door, both of us peering out through the small window beside the door. They had no idea what was waiting for them in here.

“You ready for this?” I asked Cal, sliding my hand into his, and squeezing his fingers gently. His breath left him in a stutter, and he physically flinched back from the window as they reached it and rang the doorbell, his father’s fist slamming against it a moment later.

“Let him out, you deviants!”

“Aw, it’s like he knows us,” I whispered to my sweet man, who seemed to feel every word from his father like a sharp barb aimed right into his soul. Those fuckers had to die for the way they made him feel.

I turned to check that Ethan was where we needed him, and the twisted fucker was literally pretending to tap dance on the spot, a knife in each hand. Crazy fucking dude.

He grinned widely at me, and laughed as the bastard outside banged on the door again.

I nudged Cal behind the door as I pulled it open and his parents literally spilled inside in their eagerness to rescue their son from our godlessness.

They barely caught themselves before falling flat on the carpet, but as I slammed and locked the door, they quickly realised that things weren’t as they seemed.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Cal’s dad demanded, tucking his wife behind him, as if he could protect her from our evil.

Cal stepped around me and folded his arms, which probably looked like an attempt at intimidation, but I knew it was something else entirely, because I could practically feel his trembles as he stood so close beside me.

“You called us for help. Let us go now, before this gets ugly,” his mother gasped, trying to smooth her stuffy church hair as she stepped up beside her husband. They both looked at me like there was shit wafting under their noses, and it would have hurt me once, but not now. You know the difference? Back when I was a kid, it might have got to me, might have dented my confidence in who I am, who I know myself to be. Not now though. Now what I see is two desperate indoctrinated fools, both too trapped in their twisted beliefs to love their own son, regardless of his inner soul.

“It’s already ugly, bitch,” I hissed at her, and they both gasped, drawing back as if I’d just taken their lord’s name in vain.

“How dare you speak to my wife like that? Defend your mother’s honour, son!”

Cal sighed, locking eyes with Ethan who was edging his way around the perimeter of the room, a gleeful grin on his face as he held both knives at his sides. I hoped he didn’t try killing them here. Blood was a bitch to get out of carpets, I was betting.

“Honour?” Cal spat, glaring right back at his father, who was probably only now realising he was outnumbered and smaller than both of us. He’d always seemed larger and more intimidating when I was a kid, but he was nothing but a coward.