Come now, let’s not be dramatic. He pressed the brake pedal with his left foot—he didn’t understand how Carrie thought he should be able to use only the right one—and rolled the van to a halt at a stop sign. There was a strange grinding noise, which he chalked up to faulty mechanics, and he rested his head for a moment on the wheel.

Of course Mouse had gone to her heaven. It was impossible that she hadn’t. No man, God or not, could turn her away. In Cyrus’s mind, she rivaled the Blessed Virgin in purity.

He pulled across the intersection and brought the behemoth van up to speed. How could what he and Mouse had done have been a sin, anyway? They were two consenting adults, and they’d done it out of love. Well, at least he had. She had as much as told him she was settling for the experience.

He wouldn’t let himself think that. She had loved him. And someone had taken her away. He didn’t solely blame Carrie for his pain. Though her actions had condemned Mouse, she would never have been looking for him in the first place if it weren’t for his father. In fact, Jacob Seymour had been responsible for the death of all of Cyrus’s loves. When he found him, Cyrus would make the Soul Eater pay.

“I’ve done everything you asked of me. How could you?”

The rustle of Carrie’s nylon sleeping bag in the back brought him to the present. Her voice sought him through the thick canvas drapes. “Are you praying?”

“You were dreaming. Go back to sleep.” Prayer! What a novel idea. He was a human, after all. That meant God, if he existed, had to care about him. Enough of those door-to-door missionaries had told him that. Of course, they’d recanted and cursed him as the devil right before he’d killed them, but they would be happy to know their message had sunken in.

God, Jesus, whoever I’m supposed to direct this prayer to, I’m sorry for what I did to her. Cyrus’s breath froze in his chest, as if someone had stopped up his lungs and the air couldn’t escape. Please, don’t hold it against her. Please, let her be okay where she is. Let her know I did—do—truly love her. It wasn’t a game this time. I swear it.

It would be the last time he admitted it, to himself or anyone else, he decided. It hurt far too much, and what purpose could the pain possibly serve? He’d keep it at the back of his mind, until he’d found his father and gotten his revenge.