“Yes, Father Daddy,” they say, one on top of each other, each louder than the last. The sermon is over. Can it really be over? Is that all?
Father Daddy turns away, accepting thanks and praise from other members of the Family. But I can't let him just go. I have to talk to him. I have to tell him. I stumble forward, picking up my skirts so that I can step onto the platform, where I'm definitely not supposed to be. Tulip snatches at the back of my sleeve.
“Angel!” she hisses, the air whistling through the gap of her missing tooth. “What are you doing? You're not supposed to!”
But then I feel it, another pressure on my arm. His hand, so warm, so strong, pulling me away. I lift my face and am almost blinded by the light of him. He smiles down on me, though his eyebrows are still knotted together in a very serious expression.
“I — I — just needed to…”
“It's all right, little Angel,” he says in a low voice, like thunder from far away. “Come and talk with me. Tell me everything.”
Chapter 6
Owen
I watch the congregation file out of the pews, like little ants, or worker bees, and part of me waits for Angel to walk out too. But instead of leaving, I see her go up to Silas on the altar. I suppose I should call him “Father Daddy,” in here. It’s his church. But he and I had the same father, though he wasn’t much of a daddy.
I try not to call my brother anything. Mostly, I try to bend him to my will every now and then. He sees me as his servant, when we both should be servants of the almighty. He’s always seen me that way, as his, ever since we were kids. It was tough for me to bear, for a long while. But now that we are working together again, I find my power in small opportunities that present themselves. They say, to get power over something, first you must submit to it. So I submit to Silas just enough to take my power later.
Angel is off with him and as I get up to leave the church I catch Tulip’s eye. There’s a gleam in it, a gleam of an excitement that I want no part of. I’m beginning to think that Tulip has a wicked streak.
Maybe after what was done she didn’t grow up right.
I make sure to keep my eyes averted from Tulip as I stride out into the bright light of the early afternoon sun. I nod at the others. Give them a half smile. Stand around just enough to keep them from asking questions, noticing anything is off.
I notice Gina, I mean — Obedience — looking proud as punch to be a new woman. She has a small group of aunties clucking around her and she’s lost the stance of defiance that was her signature. I’m just thinking that I’m pleased that she’s learned her proper place, when she sneaks a look at me. Lust is in her eyes. I turn away.
“When will you get your Master?” one of the younger girls asks her, but Obedience just gives her a knowing look and shakes her head. She knows it’s not up to her.
My mind is following Angel and Silas, anticipating their destination. Whether Angel will be an asset to the Family or whether she’s something more, I need to make sure his lust or mine doesn’t go too far.
So as soon as I can get away undetected, I go.
Chapter 7
Silas
She doesn’t say anything as I lead her away from the sermon barn, toward the confession building down the hill. I still hear her footfalls in the tall grass behind me and her breath, ragged and hoarse. I imagine she's holding up her long skirts, still getting them stuck with burrs and bits of dandelion fluff. She’ll be filthy.
It's actually one of the oldest buildings here, this shack. When I started the compound, sixteen years ago, there was a barn on the property but no house. We kept the barn and this shack here. I think it was used for garden tools or something, back when there was a house.
All that's left of the old domicile is a concrete foundation that's been filled in and covered with prairie grasses. Sometimes when the snow thaws in the spring, the grasses are so short that you can sort of see the concrete forms, poking out just above the soil level. It's like a ghost house.
But there was no reason to lose the shack too. It's just a simple building with a door and one small window, and somehow it has been able to stand here for at least eighty years. Eighty years of storms, the occasional flood, the odd brush fire. Everything just passed this little shack by, leaving it intact.
When we get to the shack I unlock it with a key from the ring on my belt. Leaving the padlock on one side, I let the door swing open and turn around to ask her to enter. She looks at me with those big, innocent eyes, blinking. Her fingers are knotted near the pit of her throat. Her cheeks are flushed and lips are parted. She's out of breath.
“I've never done this before,” she says quickly.
“It sounds like you need to start,” I reply.
“But I thought this was just for… I mean, I haven't had the ceremony yet.”
I cross my arms in front of my chest. For some reason, I feel like I need to shield myself from her.
“It won't be long now, Angel,” I reassure her uncomfortably. “You haven’t been overlooked. I promise you that.”
“Okay,” she sighs. She seems distracted and I’m not sure she believes me.