“It is,” Sarai said, clearly in awe. As one, we ascended the steps. Lilah stepped through the large wooden doors first, the three of us following behind. The church was completely silent. At the end, Pastor James stood, obviously awaiting our arrival.
Seeing us enter, Pastor James came down from the altar and we met her half way down the aisle. Her face broke into a smile and she embraced Lilah and Mae. When she reached me, she nodded her head. Then her eyes fell upon Sarai.
“You must be Sarai,” she said. Sarai pressed closer into Mae, obviously shy at meeting the pastor for the first time.
Mae put her arm around Sarai and nodded her head. “This is Sarai. She’s a little shy, but she’s eager to see for herself how people worship here, in Our Savior.”
Pastor James smiled directly at Sarai and showed her the pews. “This is where we worship. The congregation generally comes to a sermon on a Sunday, but the church is open for its people to come by anytime, to worship in private or to have a quiet place for contemplation.”
I watched Sarai staring at Pastor James and my heart clenched at her face absorbing every word. I understood how strange all of this would be for her. And at fourteen, she must feel so lost and alone.
My fingers tensing at what I was about to do, I took a deep breath, and reached down and took Sarai’s hand in mine. Her blue eyes darted to me. I cast her a supportive smile. Sarai’s eyes dipped at my hold, and I felt Mae’s hand squeeze my shoulder.
“Thank you,” she mouthed. I followed Pastor James, hand in hand with the little lost girl at my side. We reached the altar and turned to face the body of the church. Pastor James stepped in front and pointed to the balcony. “That’s where our choir practices and performs on a Sunday.” She turned back round, and pointed to the altar. “This is where I preach my sermons, and offer the blood and wine.”
Sarai’s hand began to tremble in mine. I glanced down at her hands to see her staring down, when suddenly, she dropped my hand and reached into the long pocket of her dress. What followed seemed to happen in slow motion.
Sarai pulled out a gun. In seconds she raised it to Pastor James’ head and pulled the trigger. The sound of the firing of the bullet echoed like thunder in the church. Mae, Lilah and I leapt back, just as the bullet passed through Pastor James’ head, blood showering our clothes as her lifeless body dropped to the ground.
A scream tore from Lilah’s throat. My heart thundered in my chest.
Sarai then turned to us, the gun pointing at our chests.
“Sarai…” Mae whispered, her hand hovering over her mouth. “What have you done? What is happening?”
Sarai’s always shy face then morphed into such a severe expression that my heart sank like a stone. “Shut up!” she hissed, as the gun scanned the three of us. “Devil’s whores!” she spat, and shook her head. “You are sinners, the Cursed Women of Eve. You are tainted by the devil and you must pay.”
My hands began to tremble. Mae reached for both Lilah and I. As my hand clasped Mae’s, Sarai flicked her chin toward the rear of the church. “Move over there.” We stayed still. Mae begged, “Please, Sarai…”
“I said move!” Sarai screamed. Mae led Lilah and I to the rear of the church. Sarai rocked on her feet, her eyes flitting to the exit door.
“Why are you doing this, Sarai?” Lilah summoned the courage to ask.
Sarai’s eyes narrowed on us, and she said, “You are a plague on our people and you must be taken to New Zion. I was sent here to retrieve you. To bring you back to the Prophet.” Her eyes lit and she said, “To face the penance for your betrayal.”
All of the blood drained from my face.
We were to be returned to our people.
Mae sucked in a sharp breath. “Prophet Cain ordered this? He ordered you to take the life of an innocent, and retrieve us? You are a child!”
Sarai froze and said darkly, “I am old enough to serve God and my Prophet. We are in a holy war. Innocent blood will be spilled. But the righteous will prevail.”
The back door suddenly burst open and two men came through. They wore all black, ski masks covering most of their faces. They looked to Sarai through the eye slits in the woolen material. She was still holding the gun.
“Are you Sarai?” one of them asked.
Sarai nodded her head and then the men turned to us. “Are these the whores?”
“Yes,” Sarai answered. Mae’s hold tightened into a grip.
“We’ve got the van in the alleyway, out back. We need to get to the meet point.”
The men stepped forward, and a cry slipped from my lips. One of the men gripped my arm, and the other took hold of Mae and Lilah. In seconds their large bodies were dragging us from the church. All three of us fought against their holds, but they were too strong. It was no use. I glanced behind to see Sarai following, and beyond Sarai I could see Pastor James’ body sprawled on the floor, blood flooding the hardwood beneath her.
Feeling nauseous, I fought back the vomit traveling up my throat. Then I caught Sarai’s eyes, and my blood chilled. The look in her eyes was the same look that Brother Moses wore when he took me as a child. The look that said he believed one hundred percent in what he was doing. That he was fueled by the power of the Prophet. That he was fueled by God himself.
“Sarai,” I whispered, my heart beating at what she had done. She was so young, yet she had just killed an innocent, without remorse. “Rethink this! Please!”