The Cult (Cult 1)

So, I continued to slap her, to keep her awake, to keep her on this side of the veil until we reached the hospital.

We landed on the helipad on the roof of the hospital after we got clearance from air traffic control. Beatrice was handed off to emergency care, and the doctors would probably be stunned for a moment because they’d never seen shit like this before. Bartholomew had his own private medical team that could have treated her, but there wasn’t time for that.

They treated the wounds and pumped her stomach. Most of the acid was in her bloodstream, but they could still get out the little bit that remained. At the very least, it would reduce the length of the high.

I glanced behind me, checking every couple seconds for Claire, who sat with the woman, their hands held together. I faced forward again and looked at Bartholomew. “I need to get Claire home. Your guys can stay and deliver Beatrice when she’s discharged.”

We both looked out of place in the hospital, wearing all black, our weapons left in the chopper because that would cause a panic. Judging from the way everyone cast worried glances our way, they knew we were people who didn’t belong there. Bartholomew sidestepped as a man passed by, and his eyes followed him in disbelief, as if he couldn’t believe someone would voluntarily get that close to him. “A bit heartless.”

“Claire is my priority. And there’s nothing I can do for Beatrice anyway.”

He glanced past me to look at my daughter. “Why is she still here?”

Now that the woman was free, she hadn’t said her goodbyes and left. She stayed, stuck to Claire. “I wondered the same thing.”

He stared at her for a while. “Are we done here?” His blue eyes flicked back to me. “Because I have shit to do.”

I gave a nod.

“Take the week off. After that, you have shit to do too.” He stepped away.

My arms grabbed his, just the way he’d grabbed mine just an hour ago.

His eyes side-swiped me.

I let go. “Thank you.”

His eyes held mine for a long time. “Didn’t do it out of the goodness of my heart.”

“You got my daughter back—and that’s all I care about.”

We took a cab to my Paris apartment. It was in the heart of the city, close to Claire’s school so I could walk her there in the mornings. Daylight had faded, and now it was evening, the lampposts bright on the corners, headlights visible on the cars. Puddles were everywhere, as if it had rained shortly after I’d left that morning.

We walked in the door, the cold crypt of my home suddenly warm and alive once again.

Claire’s blond hair bobbed up and down as she crossed the foyer and entered her home, past the pictures of herself on the wall, heading straight into the kitchen and living room, where we’d spent our evenings. She’d help me cook, and then we’d watch another movie about heroes and princesses.

I would get those nights back.

Made me lose my gait for a second, because everything up until this point felt like a dream, a dream that would fade when my eyes opened. But once I stepped foot inside my house and her voice came from the other room, I knew it was real.

She was here to stay.

I inhaled a deep breath, standing in the hallway, overcome.

A hand rested against my shoulder.

My head slowly turned to regard her, the woman with the green eyes who had formed a bond with my daughter, the woman who barely said a few words. Her eyes were filled with emotion, but they didn’t seem to reflect her own struggles, only mine.

She lowered her hand a moment later and stepped back. Her dark hair was in loose curls around her face, and her smoky eye makeup had spread glitter over her eyelashes and a bit on her cheeks. She was dressed in all white, white jeans and a white top, just like Claire and Beatrice. Her eyes seemed intelligent, but the rest of her seemed skittish.

I turned away and followed Claire into the kitchen.

“Daddy, are we going to—”

I kneeled and hugged her against me, my arms solid steel, locking her into my heart forever. My chin rested on her head, and I closed my eyes, doing my best to appreciate her little body in my big arms. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t do it. It felt too surreal, to have the one thing you wanted most in the world.

Claire held on to me and turned quiet, her breathing quick and even. “I missed you.”

My eyes watered, too emotional to say it back even though I’d said those words in the dark every time I looked at her picture, to her ghost in her bedroom. My spectrum of emotion was very slender, not even a spectrum at all. But she ripped it wide open, made me feel love for the first time, and sometimes it was too much for me to handle.