The Church (The Cloister Trilogy 3)

“Shut up. I—” He stares around as if he’ll find Adam just standing there waiting to be hammered back into place. “He has to be somewhere.”

I pull my phone from my pocket. “I’ll just call up Dad and let him know that you—”

“Wait!” He holds up his hands and eyes my phone like it’s a live grenade. “Just wait.”

I, of course, have zero intention of sounding the alarm. Not yet. I want Adam to have a chance to get as far away as possible before my father finds out. But relief is making me fuck with Gray more than I should.

“We have to tell him. You know that.” I poise my thumb over the screen.

“Just give me a goddamn minute. Let me think. Let me think. It had just gotten dark.” His voice shakes as he whirls and stares back at the road. “I saw a deer. That’s right. And then I … I was going to take it out. And then … Adam scared it off so I couldn’t shoot it.”

That’s the one thing I know about Adam that he doesn’t even know about himself: he has a good heart buried underneath all the darkness and dirt.

“And so I—” He glances at me, his eyes shifty. “I walked over here and was talking to him.”

“Just talking nicely, huh? After he scared off your deer.” I grin. “Sure.”

“And someone.” He raises his hand to the back of his head. “Hit me.”

“What did he look like?”

“Never saw him.” His shoulders seem to slump even more. “Didn’t even have a chance.”

I clap him on the back. “Oh, I’m sure the Prophet won’t hold it against you. Being distracted by the deer and then my brother, turning your back on your post—he won’t be mad. Come on, let’s go tell him.” I take unnatural joy in the terror that fleets across his stupid face. Maybe I’m more like Adam than I like to think.

His eyes narrow. “It could have been you.”

I shrug. “Could have. But wasn’t. I was with my father at dusk, not over here cracking your skull like an egg.” Elation like I’ve never felt ripples through me in waves. I don’t know who took Adam, but whoever it was saved his life. “I’m sure everything will be fine. Come on, we can head back slow. Give you time to come up with what you’re going to tell the Prophet.”

When his lip quivers, I hold back a laugh.

He knows what my father does to people who disappoint him. And this? This is a disappointment so epic that I doubt Gray will come out of it alive.

Chapter 8

Adam

Emily whispers around me, her dress brushing against my leg. I want to reach out for her, but I can’t seem to move. My mouth forms her name, but no sound comes out. I try to blink and look around, but there’s something covering my eyes.

“He’s awake.” It’s not her. Who is it?

“Sort of. I only have one more syringe of the strong stuff. I almost got caught the last time I went to visit the doctor, so I’m low on supplies.” An older woman. Her voice is familiar, but I can’t place it.

“Well, he’s going to need it. These two toes have to go. They’ll rot and poison him if we don’t cut them off.”

My toes? I want to scream, “Don’t touch my goddamn toes!” but only a weak exhalation of air makes it out.

Hands probe me, sliding along my aching skin until they press and prod along my sides. “He seems okay. What about his hands?” The older woman leans over me. I can sense her slow breaths.

“I did the best I could. He’ll have permanent damage from the tendons they wrecked, but the bones seemed intact. I cleaned and stitched them.”

“This thumb doesn’t look so good. Frostbite got it, too, maybe?” The older woman squeezes my right thumb.

I try to move and get nowhere.

“Adam, just relax. We’ve got you tied down so you can’t hurt yourself.” I know her voice. It’s Jez.

I rasp out her name.

She moves the blindfold away, and I blink against what seems like unbelievably bright light. “I need you quiet. Understand? We have customers on the premises. If one of them hears you, all this is over, and you’ll be right back up there on that cross with me beside you.”

Her green eyes finally come into focus. Leaves arch above me, exotic plants that don’t belong on the compound. I realize I’m in the baptistry of the Chapel, hidden behind the wild garden that the Prophet allows Jez to keep in her quarters.

“Emily?” My throat is fire, though I’m not sure why. The cold air? The screaming? Maybe all of it has stolen my voice.

She rolls her eyes. “You mean Delilah? Always with that bright white fairy.”

I glare at her.