The Prophet (The Cloister Trilogy 2)

My blood runs cold, and I no longer feel the heat from the fire. I don’t look at Noah or my mother. My gaze travels to Delilah’s. Her eyes are wide. Gray—his nose still bloody—walks up behind her, grabs her around the waist, and presses a long hunting knife to her throat.

Bending down, my father coaxes Sarah into a sitting position. “Chosen girl, my favorite of all my Maidens. Are you ready to please me?”

“Anything. Please. I’ll do it for you.” Her pupils are wide black holes of nothing as she stares at my father with adoration. “Let me serve you.”

“Of course, my child.” He grabs her hair and gently tilts her chin up. “You will be the first to serve me in paradise.”

She clutches his leg as he turns and gives me a hard stare.

“For the glory of the Father of Fire, this is what you must do, Adam. If you wish to become the man I know you can be—the one to inherit all I have built here—you must fall in line. You must declare your obedience to me as your Prophet. Like the wayward Prodigal Son, you must repent. ‘Bring the fattened calf and kill it.’ This is the word of our Lord. And you must follow it and submit to me.”

The wooden hilt of the blade warms in my hand, and I look at Delilah. Her eyes beg me to stop, to be the man and not the monster. Even when there’s a knife at her throat, Delilah would make the right decision. That’s what separates us. I’ve never made the right choice.

Noah throws an elbow and tries to run to me, but Zion grabs his collar as Gray pistol whips him. He falls in a heap as they continue beating him.

My father tosses away his mic. “Do you want them to stop? Do you want your mother to take another breath? Do you want your Maiden to take you in her ass again?” He shakes Sarah. “Then do it. Make this sacrifice or I’ll bury you on the same hill as your bastard daughter, right along with your mother and your brother. I have plenty more children.”

I grip the hilt hard and step toward him. It would be so easy to end him, to put a stop to all of this.

“She’s innocent.” I stare at the smooth lines of her throat and the bloody cross on the center of her chest.

“She’s been claimed by the Prophet. Not innocent, but holy. And the Father of Fire demands her sacrifice. I have seen his many blessings, Adam. He will bless you, too. And you will rule at my side.”

She trembles. “Please, let me serve the Prophet.”

I shake my head. “You don’t want this.”

“Think of your brother.” His voice slithers around me like the caress of Death.

Noah is face down now. Zion and Gray kick his limp body as hard as they can. He won’t be able to withstand it for long.

I look at Delilah, staring into her eyes. I can’t tell her I’m sorry. But I need her to know. I need her to know that I’ve buried her hope for me down deep, away from the death and the blood. I’ve put it somewhere that it can grow if she’ll only let her light shine on me again.

As I press the blade to Sarah’s neck and her blood spurts onto my hands, I don’t bother asking God to forgive me. Nothing will ever wipe away this stain.

Chapter 15

Delilah

My scream comes from somewhere deep, a well of grief that I didn’t know existed. It explodes from inside me in shades of agony as I crumple to my knees. The other Maidens gasp and some wail, but I can’t focus on anything except the blood. A river of it pouring onto Adam’s hands and the ground as Sarah’s soul flies free from her battered body.

The fire intensifies, the tornado of sparks and flames widening as the Prophet faces the inferno with arms raised.

Adam kneels beside Sarah and catches her before she slumps to the ground. He holds her in his arms like a broken doll. He bows his head, his shoulders hunched. I can’t blink, can’t do anything except stare at the gore, at the man who murdered my friend right in front of me. Everything is cold. Every ounce of heat evaporates as the fire—a raging inferno only moments ago—lessens into nothing more than a smoldering heap.

Huge gasping sobs wrack my body, and I can’t begin to deal with the enormity of the emotions that rip and tear through my heart. Adam doesn’t move as the Prophet dips his hands in Sarah’s blood and paints Adam’s face with streaks of crimson. Then the Prophet does the same to his own cheeks, drawing his cruelty in the deepest shades of red.