The Church (The Cloister Trilogy 3)
I don’t care the why of it. I just want Emily safe and away from this place if it’s at all possible. My past days have been spent with thoughts of her. Jez wouldn’t answer any questions about her, wouldn’t even tell me if she’d been sold to that bastard senator. But I’ve refused to believe it, refused to give in to despair. There has to be a way to save her. Since Jez and Chastity are hellbent on a suicide mission, I’ll have to search outside of the Chapel for help. But that won’t be easy, not when everyone on the compound is looking for me.
Jez rubs a hand down Chastity’s back. “Calm down. You need to look saintly when you walk out of here.”
Chastity takes a deep breath and lets it out in a shaky burst. Then she and Jez embrace and share a decidedly non-chaste kiss.
“Be safe.” Jez reaches for the door that leads to the rest of the Chapel.
“One more question, Chastity.” I peer up at her. “When you’re done with your explosive endgame, what do you plan to do with me?”
She pulls her hood up and walks out, giving me nothing more than the hint of a smirk, the promise of my death.
Chapter 15
Delilah
We file out of the Cloister and get onto the white bus. We’re headed to the Temple for the LSD ritual, but it’s on a Thursday night this time. It seems Adam’s disappearance threw everything into disarray, and even now, I can see a few flashlights off in the woods—the Prophet’s goons still searching for his lost son.
Chastity eases down next to me. I look up, but Grace’s back is to us, her eyes focused on the road ahead.
“Sunday. Stay in the Cloister for service. Pretend you’re sick. Do whatever it takes to stay behind.”
“Why, what—”
She rises quickly and moves down the aisle toward the back.
Damn.
I need to know more, especially since I intend to make a move tonight—one that will likely land me in an even more dire situation.
“What was that?” Eve huddles beside me.
“Don’t know.” I turn to her. It’s been days since I’ve had a chance to speak with anyone besides Grace or Noah. They keep me separate, making sure I eat at a separate table, alone, and not allowing me to go to training with the rest of the Maidens. Maybe that last part is a blessing, but the isolation chafes.
I lean closer to Eve. “How are you holding up?”
She stares at her hands. “Not so great. I had to meet my suitor two days ago.” Her shoulders slump even more. “He’s from South Carolina. Runs some sort of guns and ammunition manufacturing thing out there. Old. Fat.” She shivers. “Handsy.”
“I’m sorry.” I want to say that I’ll get her out of here, that she won’t have to go to the old fat man in South Carolina, but I can’t be sure it’s true. Not yet.
“At least he doesn’t want me yet. But he’s told the Prophet what sort of training I need.” She crosses her arms over her stomach and squeezes her elbows. “He’s got a thing for blood. For cutting. Leaving scars in weird patterns.”
My mouth goes dry. Eve will leave the torture of the Cloister only to be sent into an even deeper hell. I can’t tell if I’m raging or sorrowful. A mix of both, I suppose.
All I can see is her profile, her skin wan, her eyes clenched shut. If I could paint a picture of her at this moment, I could easily title it ‘Despair.’ That’s all the Maidens have left—except the ones who are true believers. For them, they think a heaven awaits them after their trials here on earth.
The bus rumbles through the compound. There are men along the road at intervals, guns slung across their backs. No wonder the Prophet is aiming to get a gun manufacturer on his hook.
We pull to a stop in front of the Temple and file out of the bus into the shivering evening. The overdone walls of the Temple meet us, paintings of the Prophet following our every step down the hallway. We strip outside the golden doors leading to the round room, the Spinners taking our dresses. No shame amongst us anymore, we stand in a line, obedient and still.
When we’re led in, my eyes automatically go to the spot where Adam used to be, his gaze locked with mine as he knelt on the floor. He’s not there, his absence an open wound. Noah is on his knees in his usual spot, and this time he watches me instead of his previous Maiden.
The Spinners guide us to sit on the floor in front of the throne, all of the Maidens herded inside the large pentagram that transverses the floor in veins of gold. I try to keep myself grounded, to control the fear that eats away at my insides. The path I’m on—it doesn’t lead to a happy end. Not for me. But maybe my actions tonight will clear a way for me to start the systematic dismantling of everything Heavenly stands for.