Jegudiel (Deadly Virtues 2)

“How bad is this one?” Noa asked.

Naomi shook her head and walked into Bethany’s room. It was bad.

Noa followed, her eyes immediately falling on the brunette on the bed. Beth’s flushed olive skin dripped with sweat as she thrashed on the mattress, panicked beyond measure. A tourniquet was tied around each of her upper arms, and blood trickled into the bowls beneath her from the small incisions Naomi had made. Her wide eyes fell on Noa. Noa’s heart was crushed when Beth held her chin high, desperately trying to be strong, to give the appearance that she wasn’t being tortured in body, mind and spirit by the disease she believed existed in her blood.

Noa took a washcloth from Naomi and placed it on Beth’s forehead. Beth’s brown eyes met Noa’s. Noa’s heart clenched when Beth sucked in a sharp breath, trying to show she could be strong. And she could. She was. Noa had never met anyone as tough as Beth.

“It’s nearly over.” Noa mopped the sweat from Beth’s face and neck. Beth’s breathing calmed, and Naomi worked on closing the cuts she had made. The color began trickling back into Beth’s cheeks. Noa held her hand as Beth closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Noa could see that Beth was back.

Beth sat up, looking about the room. Her eyes fell on Naomi carrying the bowls of blood into the hallway. Her cheeks reddened with ire. She clenched her teeth and took deep breaths. When a few minutes of mediation had passed, Beth opened her eyes again. “Did everything go okay?”

Noa nodded, then got to her feet. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to Beth’s head. “You ready for some fun tonight?”

Beth’s gaze glittered, and she swung her legs over the bed and planted her feet on the ground. Blood stained her arm from the letting. “I’ll be ready in twenty minutes.”

“You need food and a soda before you even try to get ready,” Noa said. She smiled when Naomi arrived in the doorway, holding a sandwich and a Coke. She also carried gauze and bandages in with her. Naomi placed the food and drink beside Beth. Beth tucked in, and Naomi began cleaning up Beth’s bloodied skin. Noa watched Naomi work in silence. Her redheaded sister lived most of her life in silence, the Brethren’s gift of cutting off half her tongue making her uneasy about speaking aloud. Naomi could speak; years of hard practice had made that possible. But she sounded different, and it reminded her too much of her past.

Noa’s chest relaxed, knowing her two youngest sisters were safe now. But that swirl of lava she always felt in her stomach rolled. Bethany, the youngest of them, crippled by the belief her blood was diseased, and Naomi, silent to anyone outside of her sisters.

She thought of Dinah, Candace and Jo. Then she thought of herself. Of what had been done to them all.

Witches. Heretics. Devil-worshippers.

“Noa? You okay?” She was ripped from her head by Beth.

Noa gave her a tight smile. “I’m going to get ready, then we’ll meet in the living room about tonight.” She walked quickly down the dark tunnel to her room. She opened the door, then stood still in the center. Nights like the one that lay before them always rocked her. They always tested her restraint. They always tested how far she would go to gain revenge on the Brethren.

Noa felt the skin on her torso heat up. She lifted her hand and rubbed across the brand. But it was no use. It ached because, tonight, she would be faced with the Brethren again. Noa moved to the only mirror in her room—a small, cracked little thing. Lifting the hem of her black leather top, she brought it over her head, removed her bra, then stared at the reminder of who she was and what had been done to her.

A pentagram, framed by a circle, the symbol of witches. Then, in the center of the star shape, an upturned cross, and a “B” above it. The symbol of the men who had vowed to extract the evil from her soul—from all her sisters’ souls.

Noa’s eyes lost focus as she was propelled back to the past. To the lair in which they were kept. To the fire licking at her skin. The water filling her lungs. The elements that the Brethren wanted to use against their pagan souls.

The twins. And worst … Father Auguste.

Noa snapped her eyes open and let ice fill her veins. She and her sisters had work to do tonight. She gathered her long pink hair back and fixed it in a French braid. She pulled her leather top back on and fastened her hood and scarf in place, leaving them around her neck until they left the tunnels and her face had to be hidden.