The Prophet (The Cloister Trilogy 2)

“Son.” My father sits in a regal chair—far too swank for this filthy prison. But, as always, he loves to stand out.

“That’s me.” I drag myself into a sitting position and lean against the chilly cinderblock wall.

He frowns as he looks over my nude, battered form. Maybe he isn’t satisfied with the damage that’s been done.

“You broke the rule with Grace before, when you were younger and dumber. But I thought that having to watch your bastard child die would be enough of a punishment to get you in line.”

“Don’t talk about her!” I try to rise up onto my knees, but my body won’t cooperate, I flop back down and scrape my bare skin along the harsh gray wall. Useless.

“I don’t say this to hurt you.” He opens his palms, a benevolent light in his eye. Even now, he keeps the charade going. “I say it to remind you that I’ve given you opportunities to change your ways, to follow me and become a truly devoted follower of the Lord and the Father of Fire. I thought that the winter solstice would be your time to prove yourself.” He sighs and leans back, scrubbing a hand down his face. “But you still don’t believe. You refuse to obey me. You deliberately break my law.” His ire rises, his face reddening, but he tamps it down. “And you did it right in front of me, flouting your disobedience.”

“I’ll never be obedient to a monster like you.” I spit a wad of blood on the threadbare rug. “And I won’t rest until the day you burn in hell.”

“Why, son?” He seems genuinely puzzled, his graying brows drawing together. “Why do you have such hate in your heart for me? I know I’ve been hard on you. I know things were different between us once I received my mission from the Father of Fire. I’ve spoken to you in cruel ways and not given you the due you’re owed as my firstborn. But these small injuries surely couldn’t have created such a foul, disobedient son.”

I laugh, my lips splitting along fresh seams. “Why? Why do I want you dead? I can think of a million reasons. But there’s only one that signed your death warrant. Just one.”

He frowns.

“Faith.” I hate to say her name in this rotten place, but nothing can tarnish her. Not anymore.

“You could have other children, but you’ve refused to wed.” He shrugs, as if replacing Faith is something as simple as plucking another child from out of thin air. “All that could have been remedied. But now, we’re past that. You’ve finally gone too far. Hurting me, hurting Heavenly—”

“Are you going to torture me? Then get on with it. I’d much prefer it to you talking me to death.”

“Even now, you thumb your nose at the man who gave you life.” He shakes his head. “‘A son honors his father, and a slave his master. If I am a father, where is the honor due me?’”

“No one quotes scripture better than the devil.”

“‘I will give you all their authority and splendor; it has been given to me, and I can give it to anyone I want to. If you worship me, it will all be yours.’”

I shake my head, even though something creaks perilously in my neck. “Now you’ve skipped straight to quoting the devil himself.”

“The Father of Fire’s words are still true, Adam. I worship him, and he has given me so many blessings. You could have those blessings, too, if you would only worship me as your Prophet and the Father of Fire as your god.”

Blood pools in my mouth as I glare at him.

“But you’re obstinate and willful.” He hardens, his dark eyes narrowing on me. “I’ve spared the rod for too long. You—”

“The whippings weren’t enough, huh?” I laugh, bloody spit running down my chin. “Can’t beat the devil into me, so I guess it’s time to move on to bigger and better. You going to tickle my feet till I squeal? Maybe have Castro over there take a feather to my balls? Or maybe you’d rather do that yourself?”

He jerks forward and grabs my hair, yanking me to him as he leans down. “I know you think this bravado is fooling me. It’s not, son. Maybe you even think the stunt you pulled with your Maiden will save her from Senator Roberts. Is that it?”

“Fuck you.”

“It won’t save her. He’s too invested in her now. He’ll buy her—paying far less of course—and then he’ll take out all the anger he feels toward you on her.” He adopts a concerned mask. “He’ll hurt her in ways she can’t even imagine. All because of you. I’ll make sure of it, build his rage up until he won’t be able to help himself. He won’t even make it off the compound before he rapes her. I’m certain of it. But then, I saw the video. She’s a wanton little slut, isn’t she? It won’t be rape at all. She’s cock-hungry. Your mistake was in thinking she only had an appetite for yours. She—”