The Church (The Cloister Trilogy 3)

I swallow hard. That’s the name she used to call me. Only Georgia.

“I’ll find you!” Georgia’s voice rockets across her father’s wide garden, the stalks of corn tall in the dusky sunset.

I slink behind the wide oak with the trunk that looks almost like a face. Her swing—just a piece of throwaway wood situated between two lengths of rope, sways light in the evening breeze. The spring scent of honeysuckle tickles my nose and threatens to make me sneeze and give up my location. Not happening. Pressing myself against the warm bark, I rub my sleeve across my nose with a ruthless motion, killing any sneezy inclination with brute force.

The whisper of corn leaves pulls my attention to the right. I peek out, but don’t see her past the stout wire rows of climbing cucumber vines. Eyeing the wooden fence that separates her backyard from her neighbors, I wonder if I can slip through the spot where the boards are loose without her seeing me. Then again, going into another yard is cheating. Crap. I should have run to the other side of the house.

“I know you’re over here.” Her sing-song voice is a threat laced with laughter, and I can’t help my smile as I try to stay as still as possible.

Playing hide-and-seek is still one of her favorite games, even though we’re almost teenagers. We play it every time I come to visit, times that are coming farther and farther apart ever since my mother … No, I won’t think about that now. I focus on where I think she is, maybe towards the back edge of the garden now, her Keds silent on the red dirt as she stalks me.

When I think she’s about to break free of the rows of corn, I make a calculated decision to dart toward the opposite side of the garden.

I shriek when I collide with her, standing just around the tree, and we fall in a heap. A few crows lift from the branches above us, squawking away into the muggy twilight.

“Gotcha!” Her triumphant shout is all-too familiar, and I lay back on the grass and admit defeat.

“You’re too good at this.” Crossing my arms over my thin chest, I stare up through the new leaves on the dark branches. “There aren’t enough hiding spots.”

“Oh, don’t be a sore loser. Pro tip—you need to stop picking the first good place you see to hide. Be a little more sneaky.” She flops next to me and tucks her hands behind her head. “Besides, I’d be able to find you in the dark. You shine no matter where you are, Firefly.”

“Delilah?” Noah wrinkles his forehead and peers into my eyes.

“Get off me.” My temples are wet, though I didn’t realize I’d been crying.

“No. Not until you stop swinging at me. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Or you.” I spit back.

“That, too.” He nods, and I notice he’s been careful not to squeeze my wrists too hard or settle too much of his weight on my hips. He’s holding back.

“You killed her.” I lock eyes with him, daring him to look away with a lie.

“I did not.” He holds my gaze, his voice steady and low. “I swear on my life that I never harmed your sister.”

I can feel it niggling in the back of my mind, the tendril tickling—the thread of truth in his words. The tears flow more freely now, vengeance doused with the familiar bucket of disappointment and loss. I let go, my body going limp beneath him. The fight is gone. He didn’t do it. I can see it in his eyes, and I hate the fact that I still haven’t achieved the one thing I came here to do. I’m sorry, Georgia. I think it over and over again, sending my apology out into whatever world where Georgia still exists. I’m so sorry I failed you again.

“Fuck.” He relents and scoots off me, sitting on the bed, his head in his hands.

I roll to my side, the ache in my backside forcing me to face away from Noah. Tears still flow, and I hate the weakness in me, the utter failure.

“She was my Maiden, but I never hurt her. Not like … Not like the others. She was different.” His voice is so low I have to lean toward him to hear it. “Something about her. I don’t know. She would tell me things about her childhood. About you. I loved her stories about high school, her normal life. She sort of …” He shakes his head. “She showed me all the things I missed out on. She made me doubt.” He sighs. “She made me doubt everything. Adam had been trying to pull the curtain back for years. Hell, I already knew what was behind the curtain, but I believed anyway. But with her, she made everything seem so much brighter.”