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)
Its pale fur is stained red.
Abaddon shook off the vision, no matter how much it wanted to resurface. This place held bad energy, but he could fix that if he only cleaned up and rearranged the space. Abaddon had no idea why he’d decided to bring the boy here. Was it an inspiration from God himself?
The set of small tools that he’d found in his trousers at birth kept poking at his flesh, so he placed it on the floor. He’d need some kind of container to carry them in.
After a brief search, he did find a few necessities, like a mattress that had been covered with a sheet to protect it from dust, and even a lamp that still worked when he turned it on. It was just a bulb in the ceiling, but its warm yellow glow dispersed the ghost of the boy and his dead cat.
Here he was—the Angel of the Abyss, the Lord of Locusts—rushing around to make the attic inviting, because a boy was about to visit him here. Absurd. But he wouldn’t stop, frustrated by an amount of mess that couldn’t be dealt with within a quarter of an hour.
Well. At least the thick layer of dust suggested they wouldn’t be disturbed.
The air was stale and dense with swirling particles, but he found a small side window and opened it wide after wrestling with its rusty handle. That was all he had time for, and as little difference as it had made, it would need to suffice, because Gabriel couldn’t be left hanging indefinitely, especially not after that terrible exchange between him and Father John.
The other exit from the attic led into a hidden passage that would take Abaddon to Gabriel, and he jogged there as soon as he was done with the brief clean-up, his heart beating furiously as he squeezed his tall, muscular form through the tunnel before peeking through a tiny peephole meant for checking whether the coast was clear.
The boy stood in the meeting spot, hugging a blanket under one arm as he looked out the window. He’d changed into a hoodie and wore different jeans as well. For a moment Abaddon worried that Father John’s words had gotten to Gabriel, but then he noticed that the boy wasn’t interested in the night outside. Using the glass pane as a mirror, he attempted to rearrange his raven hair, like a man about to meet the person of his dreams. Adorable. Abaddon could devour him whole without the need to add any more sugar or spice.
After listening to him for a day, it didn’t take a genius to deduce that Gabriel’s self-esteem was in the gutter. His tormentors had been picking at him for years, like vultures hoping for their victim to die, but that didn’t change the fact that he made the prettiest picture. With his long legs, the fingers of a pianist, and eyes like two black diamonds, he was no ugly duckling. The scars he was so ashamed of were proof of the terror he’d survived, not flaws, and Abaddon would kiss each one to prove to Gabriel that there was nothing to be ashamed of when it came to his body.
Abaddon pressed the lever releasing the secret exit and stepped out, about to speak to the beautiful faun when his forehead collided with the doorframe that hung way too low.
“Fucking hell,” he growled, rubbing his head.
Gabriel turned so abruptly he dropped the blanket and had to pick it up. “Oh, God… I was afraid it was someone else. I met Father John on the way. He was in one of his weird moods.”
Abaddon shrugged, because what was the point of speculating.
Gabriel took several deep breaths to speak again. “How many hidden passages does this place have?”
Stars were still spinning around Abaddon as he gave up on trying to relieve the pain and met Gabriel’s eyes. “Dunno. Lots. Old man Benson must have been a real creep to request this, with peepholes into rooms at that.”
Gabriel hugged the blanket, shifting his weight. “Are there… peepholes to my room?” His big eyes became two black holes, and Abaddon had to grab him for reassurance.
Abaddon frowned. “I don’t remember. We’d need to check, but don’t worry—nobody’s been down those corridors in years,” he said, guiding Gabriel into the passage. This time, he did lower his head, like Pavlov’s dog.
“How do you know? What if this is where they move at night to not be seen?” Gabriel asked, quick to entwine their fingers.
“Because when I first entered, they were completely covered in dust, and there was a giant cobweb where we’re currently standing,” Abaddon said, closing the entryway behind them. He switched on the flashlight and shone it at his face from below. “With spiders only an angel could have taken on.”