The Cult (Cult 1)

I didn’t ask for the price because it didn’t matter what he wanted in return—if he could help me. “Claire was taken two weeks ago. No leads.”

He cocked his head slightly as he listened to my plea, his brown eyes absorbing everything I said—and didn’t say. “Ironic. You turn your back on us for your daughter—but you lose her anyway.”

I inhaled a deep breath and steadied the impulse to launch myself and snap his neck with a single twist of my hands. “Please.”

His grin was gone, and now his coldness remained. The seasons changed in an instant, the summer heat turning into frostbitten winter. “I allowed you to break your commitment and keep your life. Haven’t I done enough?” His tone deepened into an icy threat, echoing my betrayal as a reminder to me, as if I’d forgotten, and the men who listened in attentive silence.

My arms were still by my sides, my breath even, my heart running at a steady pace because there was no threat that could frighten me in this state of mind. The only reason I wanted to live was so I could find my daughter. “Get Claire back. My life will be payment for your generosity.”

Bartholomew let the silence linger for a long time, my offer floating in the air between us. He disappeared into the throne, becoming one with the stone, dead like the six million souls that lived in these walls, but simultaneously alive. “And if she’s already dead?”

I dropped my chin instantly, wincing in pain at the assumption that I never allowed myself to consider. My heart struggled through every beat. My lungs struggled to draw breath. My eyes watered at the image of my little girl in my head…my whole fucking world. “Then take my life…because I don’t want to live anyway.”

2

Constance

When I opened my eyes, I sucked in a deep breath, so deep that it felt like the first one I’d taken since the last time I was conscious. I died and came back to life…but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be alive.

My body jolted upright, and I looked down at the bed that supported me. A soft comforter was underneath my fingertips, pure white, fluffy, and clean. My chin lifted, and I looked at the head of the bed where there was a display of white pillows on a gray headboard. A string of white lights was on the wall above it, looking like Christmas lights. “Where the fuck am I?” I stood up and felt the furry white rug underneath my feet, the tufts sliding between my toes. I took a look around and saw a golden harp in the corner, along with a stool next to it. The windows showed a forest outside, brown earth with patches of grass and weeds. It was quiet, just the sound of my breathing keeping me company.

There was an opening that led to another bedroom, another white bed, another harp. I moved around the foot of the bed I’d been in and approached the bookshelf that was full of books, not a single space left open on the shelves. I scanned the titles. Holiness: The Path to Absolution. Redemption: A Spiritual Road for Sinners. Divinity. The Way of the Angels. “What is this…?” I turned to look at the nightstand and saw the bible sitting there.

The room had hardwood floors and light-colored furniture, and when I opened the dresser, I saw women’s clothing—all in white. Inside the closet, I found white dresses on hangers…with white angel wings attached to each garment. “Oh…this is bad. This is really bad.”

A quiet whisper came from behind me. “Mom…she’s awake.”

I turned on the spot and saw a young girl standing in the archway that separated my bedroom from the other. She had long blond hair, blue eyes, and large gaps between her teeth.

I recognized her immediately. “Claire…?”

The girl stiffened immediately, her eyes wide when I guessed correctly. “Are you…really an angel?”

“An angel?” That was when I noticed she was wearing all white—white pants and a long-sleeved white shirt. “No, my name is Constance.”

“Mom?” She went into the other room and disappeared from my sight. “This lady knows my name. She must be an angel.”

What the fuck was happening right now? I stayed in my place near the bookshelf and didn’t go after her. For the first time in my life, I had no idea what to do. The world around me was a false reality, and my brain simply couldn’t process what I was experiencing. It couldn’t form connections or patterns. It couldn’t logically explain any of it.

Footsteps sounded, and then a woman stepped into my room, wearing white jeans and a white shirt, her brown hair in curls down one shoulder, a slight hint of glitter in the fabric of her clothes. Her eyelashes were thick with makeup, and there was a touch of glitter to her cheeks. She had an ethereal glow because she was a stunning woman.