Read Online Harsh Gods by Michelle Belanger - Free Book Online Page A

and damp and reeking of green. I knew where the Mekong could be found—a detached kind of textbook knowledge about Vietnam ran like ticker-tape beneath the kinesthetic memories of the place—but whatever meaningful kernel these recollections were wrapped around remained hollow at the core, devoured by the hungry worm I knew as Dorimiel.
    All the most important ones I carried were like that. Lifetimes’ worth of experience—all gone. My past prior to the moment I dragged myself out of the lake was a jigsaw with the middle punched out, and no reference picture left on the box.
    “Zack?” Father Frank urged.
    “There was… an incident,” I began. “It jacked up my memory.”
    “Jacked up?” he asked.
    I shook my head. “Gone,” I said. “It’s all gone. I might as well have met you for the first time tonight.” I turned away as I said it, but not before I caught the stricken look that crushed the dignity from his face. “For what it’s worth, you make a damned impressive first impression,” I offered.
    He didn’t seem to hear. Wobbling on legs suddenly bereft of their strength, the priest dropped heavily onto the edge of Halley’s bed. All the air whooshed from his lungs, making him grab at his taped-up ribs.
    “How do you forget?” he muttered in a gravelly voice. “You don’t forget. You remember. That’s what you are.”
    “I wish,” I answered. Restlessly, I rubbed at the scar on my hand.
    “You were attacked.” It wasn’t a question.
    I nodded.
    Something fiercely protective chased the pain from his face. When he spoke, his voice was all gunpowder and steel.
    “Who do we need to hunt down?”
    “We?” I replied. “There’s no we. It’s over and done. Nothing you can do.”
    From the way he flinched at those words, I couldn’t have wounded him more if I’d knifed him in the gut. He made a fist and stared at it, lying there uselessly in his lap. A muscle ticked in his jaw.
    “Don’t tell me that.”
    I wondered again what kind of priest the padre was—and if his parish knew anything about his extracurricular activities with the likes of me.
    “You lied that night at the church,” he said through gritted teeth. “I knew something was up the minute you left your weapons. I asked, and you said it was nothing. Nothing!” All the fight leapt back to his eyes, only now I bore the full brunt of it. I fumbled for some meaningful response, staggered by his revelation.
    “Did you think you couldn’t trust me?” he said. “After everything we’ve been through?”
    My thoughts roiled with questions—when did this happen? What weapons was he talking about? Was it a normal thing for me to leave stuff at his church? I was desperate for any answers, but his stricken look of betrayal stoppered my throat.
    Before I could collect myself, the door behind me creaked and Sanjeet poked her head into the room. She wore her puffy pink coat and held that silly pompom hat of hers in one hand. A bruise the color of eggplant covered one side of her jaw. Like I had before her, she rapped belatedly on the frame.
    “You’re not interrupting,” Father Frank said. I stood with my mouth open, still struggling to marshal my words. Sanjeet looked skeptically between us but didn’t contradict.
    “You ready?” She held her keys up.
    It took all I had not to chase her from the room and press Father Frank for answers. Now was not the time, though—Halley took priority. I busied myself by gathering the various samples of writing that had been scattered all over the floor during the fight. The police had left them alone—probably had no idea what to make of them.
    “Yeah. He’s ready,” I said, neatening the stack, then turning back to Father Frank. “You go look after Halley. She needs you.”
    Righteous fire still kindled in his eyes, but at the mention of Halley he settled somewhat. He slid from the side of the heavy metal-framed bed and joined Sanjeet at the door.
    “I’ll call you from the