The Cult (Cult 1)

The chopper touched down. The blades stopped.

Bartholomew removed his headset, in a black leather jacket with a black shirt underneath. His gun was at his hip. His eyes were on me as he waited for the blades to come to a complete stop. “You need a minute?”

“No.” I yanked off the helmet, threw open the door, and got out.

They were waiting, the guy with the smile, along with his cattle-skull fiends.

Bartholomew grabbed my arm and steadied me. “I handle this. You do not speak.”

I stared at him, unable to stop imagining myself carving that smile out of his goddamn face. Blood everywhere. All over the snow. All over my clothes. The sweet satisfaction of carving his face like a Halloween pumpkin…was indescribable.

Bartholomew seemed to know, because he pulled my gun from my holster then extended his palm, silently asking for the knife.

“We might need it.”

“My words are enough.”

I didn’t withdraw my knife.

“Benton.”

“He lied to us—”

“Benton—”

“Why the fuck do you protect them?”

His hand remained lifted between us. “That’s my business. Not yours. I told you I would get your daughter back if she’s alive. Now give me your fucking knife so I can do my job.”

I yanked it out and threw it in the snow. “Like I need it anyway…” I turned away and began the march across the clearing, my eyes focused on the freak with the smile, the one who held my gaze like he found this whole exchange amusing.

Bartholomew and our guys moved forward, inching closer, boots crunching against the snow.

Then they came to a standstill.

It was just like before, but there was no bag of bones at my feet.

Forneus stared at me for a bit before his eyes flicked to Bartholomew. “Another business-s opportunity. Delightful.”

I could crush his skull with my bare hands. My thumbs would dig into the sockets first until the blood poured down his face and he was permanently blind. Then I’d unhinge his jaw with my hands, rip it out of place—

“Same business opportunity—amended.”

It took all my strength to keep my mouth shut and not demand my daughter. But I wasn’t myself right now, insane with rage, and I wouldn’t be able to handle this the best way possible. I just wanted violence. Bloodshed. Vengeance.

Forneus continued to smile. “What are your requests?”

“What you owe me.” Bartholomew kept his calm, and in between his simply spoken words were the subtle threat, a threat that he didn’t need to voice. “Let’s get it right this time.”

Slowly, that smile faded.

That’s right, motherfucker.

Silence. Forneus wouldn’t admit a damn thing or show his hand.

Bartholomew let the silence stretch on indefinitely.

My eyes flicked past them, as if I expected to see Claire and Beatrice in the background. My patience was getting the best of me.

Bartholomew broke the silence first. “Take this opportunity to remedy your mistake. Thank me for my generosity. Complete this deal as it should have been completed in the first place.”

Forneus stared.

Bartholomew stared back. “Now.”

“You—”

“This is your one and only chance, Forneus.” Bartholomew kept his calm. “Do not waste another moment of my time.”

Forneus held his gaze, his eyes shifting back and forth, a red tint flowing into his face.

My body was in duress. It didn’t know if it should breathe, writhe, convulse, rejoice. My breaths were irregular and deep, because I’d forget to exhale after every inhale. My boots were on the precipice of what I needed—so fucking close.

Forneus turned to his men—and nodded.

My chest nearly burst.

Claire.

She was alive.

She was here.

I swayed on the spot.

Bartholomew gave me a look that conveyed his words as clearly as if they were written on a page. Keep your shit together.

We waited for what felt like an eternity. A slow, painful eternity.

Forneus remained in front of us, that gloating smile gone.

We stared back and forth, the longest standoff in history.

Then I heard a woman’s voice. “Where are you taking her?” A cabin and trees were in the way of my ability to see her. “No! I go where she goes.”

The cattle skulls came in a herd, at least two dozen.

I couldn’t see behind them.

I instinctively stepped forward, needing to see.

Bartholomew’s hand was quick, grabbing on to my arm with the grip of a viper.

I steadied even though it took everything in me.

The freaks parted—and there she was.

Claire.

Her hand was clasped inside the palm of a woman I didn’t know, and that same woman held up Beatrice, like she was too injured to walk on her own.

But my entire focus was on the little girl coming toward me.

The breaths came in deep and fast, my eyes seared with heat and moisture, and it took all my strength not to fall to my knees and sob.

Claire stuck close to the woman’s side, her eyes down as if she was afraid to look at the freaks around her. She didn’t see me. Had no idea I was there. Just trusted the woman who held her hand to get her to their next destination.