Heretics book 3 - The Apocryphile Press

THE KINGDOM :: 249
free of her grip. “You fucking witch! I hate you, hate you,
hate you!”
With a jerk he leaped back and pulled her forward, pulling
her off balance. Seizing his opportunity, he leaped out of the
tub and ran under the arm holding the saucepan. Not to be
undone, she swung the pan down and around, catching him
in the back of the head. Without another sound, the young
Mikael went down like a dropped rag doll, lying face down
at the threshold to the hall.
“Oh, Booby-boy, you are such an evil baby.” She dropped
the pan, now empty of scorching wax, and, with difficulty,
picked the child up in her arms. Tenderly, she brought him
to the bedroom, laid him on the bed, and shut the door.
Dylan debated whether to enter the bedroom. What he
had seen already was bad enough—did he really want to see
more? He looked to Jaguar for help.
“What do you think, Jag-meister? Do we go in?”
“You’re not here to make yourself comfortable. You’re
here to find Mikael.”
Dylan was confused. “I don’t think the adult Mikael is
here.”
“No.” Jaguar swished his tail. “But the young Mikael is.”
“Ah can’t just leave him here like this,” Dylan said.
“If you do, he’ll be here forever,” Jaguar said, raising a
back leg and licking at his privates.
Dylan nodded, and like a ghost, walked through the door.
The bedroom was no improvement on the rest of the house.
A full-sized mattress lay on the floor, with a wad of bedding
to one side.
On the other side of the mattress was the little boy Mikael,
unconscious, his head to one side, with a mat of blood visible
on the back of his head.
Crouching over him, his grandmother rocked back and
forth, tears streaming down her face as she cried out, “Oh,