The Church (The Cloister Trilogy 3)

“You know, if we get caught leaving here, you’ll be in trouble, too.”

“That’s a chance I’m willing to take. Chastity has my back.” She hasn’t lost her swagger. “Who has yours?”

“Fuck.” I walk past her and into her room. There’s no “exit” sign pointing to a door, just more stained glass and wood paneling. Maybe I haven’t thought this through all the way. Actually, I’m sure I haven’t. Thinking things through isn’t, strictly speaking, my strong suit. Turning again, I stop and stare at the rack of clothes that serves as Jez’s closet.

An idea—not a good one, of course—forms in my mind, and I pull a dress off its hanger and head back out to Adam. “Strip.”

His eyes widen and he drops onto the couch. “No way.”

“It’s our only chance.”

“It’s dumb.” He shakes his head at the black dress with its long skirt and severe black habit.

“Why do you even have a Spinner costume?” he asks Jez.

She shrugs. “Some of the guys that come here are into it. The kink of the unavailable.”

“You going to change your mind about helping us get out of here?” Adam pulls his shirt over his head.

“I was supposed to keep you here. I’m not going to help you get out. Not when I’m letting my girl down.” She doesn’t move from the floor.

I hold the dress out to Adam, unable to hide my amusement despite the dire circumstances. “Act girly, okay?”

He snatches it from me. “Just get me out of here, and I’ll kick your ass for that later.” He pulls the dress over his head. It’s too tight, but it’ll have to do.

“Follow my lead. You’re a drunk whore. I’m a drunk john. We’ll stumble out into the night together. I’ll hold you up so you don’t give away the fucked up foot.”

“This is never going to work.” He pulls the wings of the habit tight around his face.

“Might want to up your enthusiasm a bit.” I pat him on the back. “After all, you’ll be the one blowing the guard if anything goes wrong.”

Chapter 17

Delilah

Grace fetches me from my room earlier than usual, her face an unmoving mask of ire. “Get dressed.” She throws me a white robe—the kind Maidens only wear when we’re leaving the Cloister.

I don’t ask questions, just slip the robe on over my white dress and step into my flats. Besides, I can guess why she’s angry. I went over her head last night, asked the Prophet face-to-face if I could go to the senator. I’d asked Grace earlier in the day. She’d scoffed at the idea and assured me I was nowhere near ready.

“Move.” She shoves me out the door and into the main dormitory area. With brisk steps she overtakes me and leads down the hallway and out into the cloudy morning. “This was a mistake on your part.” She starts the golf cart, no driver today. “You’ll see that.” We take off, heading up the hill toward the main house. “I hope he does every horrible thing he can think of to you.”

“I know.” I pull the robe closer around my neck to ward off the cold. “You’ve been over this.”

She turns her icy gaze on me. “Maybe he’ll kill you. A man like him, he’d never get in trouble for it. Killing a disposable slut like you wouldn’t matter.”

“Maybe.” I’ve thought about the grim possibility. These people were able to get rid of Georgia. It probably would be even easier for Evan, especially now that my mother won’t even have the chance to look for me. I’d like to think that if I disappeared and she were free, she would come searching, demanding answers. Thinking that is easier than facing the truth.

We lurch to a stop near the back door.

Grace grabs a fistful of my robe and yanks me toward her. “I’m not getting through to you. If you leave here with that senator, you aren’t coming back. Ever.” She shakes her head, confused. “Why are you running toward him?”

“Why are you trying to convince me to stay?” I return her icy glare. “You’ve been trying scare tactics for days, doing everything you can to keep me here and away from Evan. Why?”

She flinches. Because I see her, because I can easily spy the outline of her web and avoid its silky strands.

She shakes me a little, her frustration boiling into the heightened tone of her voice. “Self-preservation isn’t working on you, probably because your freak DNA is broken. Since you don’t seem to be following along with the rest of the class, let me make it clear for you. If you leave here with him, I will walk out of this house, ride this golf cart over to the Rectory, and start cutting pieces off your mother.”

My ears ring, my body going cold. “No.”