“So you admit he’s a disgusting pervert, but you still believe he talks to God and the devil?” I lean against the dark mahogany wood, my body sagging from too much effort and not enough fuel.
He shrugs. “He’s still a man. Still flawed. But yes, I believe he’s a prophet of the Lord. And that God and the Father of Fire are two sides of the same coin. He speaks to them.”
I hold the bottle up to him in a half-ass salute. “Well, at least you’re more fucked in the head than I am. I’ll drink to that.”
Chapter 5
Delilah
My old room. I sit on my bed, and it feels like a hundred years have passed since I was in this spot. I trace my fingers along the white bedspread.
A short knock at my door catches my attention, and Chastity walks in, both eyes black, a split lip, and bruising along her jaw. “Are you okay?” She hurries over to me.
“I’m fine.” I keep tracing the bedspread as she examines my dress.
“No cross.” She smooths the white fabric along my shoulders and lets out a breath of relief. “No cross.”
“The Prophet didn’t choose me.” Tears well in my eyes, and shame washes over me like a tidal wave. “I offered myself to him, but he didn’t take me.” My lip trembles. “I’m not worthy of him. I know that now.”
Chastity stiffens, then brushes the hair away from my face. “Delilah, what did they do to you? They kept me for two days and—” She unbuttons her shirt, then pulls it down to show red welts all over her fair skin. “Just beatings. On and on. But I’ve handled worse from them… Last time.” She re-buttons her top and drops her voice to a whisper. “No one escaped. Not even Sarah. I think she’s still in the Rectory.” She swallows hard. “They saw the video where Susannah held the sharpened toothbrush to my throat. I kept telling them I only climbed the fence to keep all of you in my sights so I could turn you in eventually.”
I stare at her. She was right to try and turn us in. Being away from the Prophet is a horrible fate, one I never want to meet.
She continues on, her voice hushed, “They didn’t believe me at first, but I stuck to it. Once the beatings stopped, they dragged me back here. But Grace trusts me even less now. Susannah, Eve, and Hannah are back in the Cloister. Subdued, but okay. What happened to you in the Rectory?”
“They showed me I was wrong. Foolish. Too stuck in this world when I should have been striving for the next.” Tears flow down my face. “And the only way to get to paradise is to obey the Prophet.”
She peers into my eyes, then runs her hands along my ribs. “You need to eat. They had you for four days and only fed you drugged fruit. Isn’t that right?”
Indignation wells in me. “I wasn’t drugged. The Prophet took care of me. He loves me.”
“I’m going to see what I can find in the kitchen.” She stands.
“I won’t eat. Not until it’s time. Not until the Prophet says I can.” I drop to my knees and turn toward the bed to begin my prayers. “I will spend all my time in praise of the Prophet. He’s the only one who truly loves me.” I cast a glance over my shoulder at her and can’t help but smile. “I’m his favorite, you know?”
“Delilah, don’t do this.” She changes course and takes a spot next to me on the floor, her eyes growing wide. “Please don’t.”
“Don’t do what?”
“Fall for it. You’re too strong to believe the lies. Nothing the Prophet says is true. He’s a deceiv—”
I launch myself at her and wrestle her to the floor. With a vicious slap, I yell in her face, “The Prophet is everything. Everything!” I hit her again with a smack so hard it vibrates up my arm and makes my teeth chatter.
She grips my wrists and throws me off, then rolls on top of me, pinning me against the cold wood floor. “Delilah.” Her lip is split again, blood showing through the break in her skin.
“Get off me, witch!” I can’t buck her. Whatever strength I had a moment ago is gone.
“Delilah, please.” Her voice softens, but she keeps me in place. “Think about why you’re here. Think—”
“For the Prophet.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “Not for him. You came here for her.”
A ghost of a girl dances through my mind, her golden ringlets catching every ounce of sun. But it’s as if I’m looking at her through a pane of frosted glass. She’s there, though, waiting for me. The thought of her brings too much pain, so I push it away and focus on the Prophet. “No. I’m here for him. To serve him.”