The Church (The Cloister Trilogy 3)

I have no doubt his children rush to him with love in their eyes.

Grace leans to my ear, her whisper more of a hiss. “Welcome back to the Cloister, whore.”

Chapter 6

Adam

The sun is going down, hiding behind the trees. I lick my dry, cracked lips. My skin prickles from sunburn, the cold air causing aching goosebumps to rise along my flesh.

No one has come to see me since Noah. I’m glad. I can’t be strong anymore. My will is still intact, but my body has given up on me. I can’t blame it. At least I can’t feel my toes anymore. I shredded them on the edge of the small shelf when I was trying to hold myself up. Now I hang. And if I stay completely still, the pain in my hands is just a dull, never-ending ache. It’s hard to breathe, but I keep pulling in air.

I’m going to die up here. I accepted that fact the moment my father left the punishment circle. When he turned his back on me, it was with finality. I’ve known him for far too long to misread his signals. He left me here to die. I was too chickenshit to tell Noah the truth, to tell him goodbye. Besides, if he knew, he’d try to save me. I won’t let him kill himself for me. No matter how fucked up things are, I still hold onto hope that he has a chance. Somewhere outside of this fucked up prison, maybe he can have a life. He just needs to be strong enough to choose it for himself.

My Emily ghosts through the trees, her white dress at the edge of my vision. I blink hard. She’s not there. A long day of blood loss, sun poisoning, and cold can do that to a person, I suppose.

My eyelids droop closed again, and I retreat to where I can find the real Emily. In my memory. Her gray eyes haunt me, and I hope they never stop. Did I ever tell her how soft her skin is? I can’t remember. Doesn’t seem like something I’d be forthcoming with, no matter how true. But it is—soft and warm and so real I can almost feel it under my blood-crusted fingertips.

Some scuffling in the woods draws my attention. I force my eyes open and stare into the deepening gloom. Nothing there. Except another hint of Emily’s white dress.

White. I want to see her in another color—all the colors. I bet she shines so bright no matter what she wears. She certainly catches my attention naked. I try to imagine her in a sunny yellow dress, her hair flowing down her back. God, what a stunner. She smiles at me and takes a few steps into a green field. I follow. She moves farther away.

“Come back.” I chase her, her skirt flying up and showing me her long pale legs. She laughs, the sound light and sweet, drizzled honey on my tongue.

More scuffling pulls me from my daze. The woods are dark now. When did the sun go all the way down? Something gleams in the darkness. Eyes. A deer walks into the punishment circle, its ears flickering as it sniffs the air. In the faint moonlight, it looks white, the shadows along its coat painted in shades of gray. No antlers. I’m pretty sure it’s a doe.

It moves closer. Am I dreaming? I can’t tell anymore.

Its tail twitches as it walks to me, then pauses beneath my cross. With snorts, it scuffs the dirt, the sounds verging on disapproval. Mad that I’m here or mad that I’m still alive?

Movement catches my eye—the guard is creeping closer into the circle, his gun raised. Nothing pure can survive here.

Not this time. I split my parched lips and let out a guttural yell. The deer startles, its white tail lifting straight up as it darts away, its hooves light on the cold earth as it disappears into the trees.

“Motherfucker.” The guard marches over, gun still drawn.

“Going to shoot me and put me out of my misery?” I grin down at him.

It’s Gray, his nose still bruised from the last time we had a run-in. He aims at my leg. “No. But putting a few more holes in you won’t matter.”

“Aim for my side. I want to get this look just right.” I’d like to spit at him, but I barely have any moisture in my mouth. No need to be wasteful.

“Sacrilegious piece of shit.” He moves the barrel up until he’s pointing at my chest.

“Just playing the role I’ve been given.” I try to put my feet down, but I can’t feel the board beneath me anymore.

“The Prophet should have killed you straight up.”

“Second-guessing the Almighty? Better watch out for the lightning bolt.”

His eyes narrow, his finger closing on the trigger as the muzzle lifts even higher until he’s aiming at my face.