The Church (The Cloister Trilogy 3)

Chapter 4

Delilah

One Year Ago

The white plastic chair creaks beneath me as I take my seat toward the back. Several other women file into the room, purple worship binders in their hands. The church service ended with the Prophet asking that any women interested in joining the Cloister meet in one of the fellowship rooms.

I wait as the room fills, at least two-dozen women taking seats, some whispering amongst themselves. In my time at Heavenly, I’ve been polite and spoken to people who’ve approached me, but I haven’t made any friends. That’s not what I’m here for. So I sit alone, empty seats on either side that only become occupied when there is nowhere else left.

A young woman, maybe eighteen, with strawberry blonde hair sits to my right and holds her binder to her chest. “Hi, I’m Sabrina.” Her voice is small, the squeak of a mouse, but she’s friendly.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Emily.” We don’t shake, but a soft layer of comfort falls between us like a light snow.

“I hope I get picked.” She turns to look at me, her eyes big and green.

I swallow my real thoughts, tucking them away, and say, “So do I.”

“We could be Maidens together. Do the Lord’s work.” She smiles. “Bring glory to the Prophet.”

My devout persona chafes the real me, but I return her smile. “Wouldn’t that be a blessing?”

“The highest.” She nods and turns away, likely lost in thoughts of how great the Cloister must be.

I know better, but revealing it now—even if it would help these girls—isn’t part of the plan. So I stay quiet and wait.

When the Prophet walks in, he beams at us, his charm a fountain that never runs out. The chatter stops, and we all focus on the one man who claims to know God’s plan for our lives.

“Ladies.” He stands at a wooden lectern at the front, and someone closes the door with a faint metallic click. “I’m so glad to see you all here. Thank you for coming.”

Some women murmur “thank you” in response.

“I know there’s a lot of talk about what the Cloister is, especially when people see the Maidens in their white dresses and veils. But here, at this informational meeting, I’m going to tell you what it is and what it isn’t.”

I know what it is.

“The Cloister is a place of safety. Somewhere young women can go and live and learn for one year. There, you will be taken care of and treated as holy. Every need you have will be taken care of, and you will want for nothing. There is only one requirement that you must meet in order to be considered.” His gaze sweeps the room. “And I’m certain you young ladies won’t have a problem getting over this hurdle. In order to be sacred to the Lord, you must be pure of heart, mind, and body. I won’t go into details and shock your finer sensibilities, but if you aren’t sure what I mean, please feel free to ask one of your sisters here or, if you see a Spinner, she can guide you with the knowledge. The Spinners are holy servants, and serve me and the Maidens with equal parts love and devotion.”

I glance around. A few of the women fidget, their fingers clasped in front of them. Others keep their eyes on the Prophet. I would guess that maybe a third of them just got disqualified. They have no idea how lucky they are.

“We have a questionnaire for each of you to fill out. Basic questions about your heritage, education, interests—things like that. We wouldn’t want to pry, of course, but we need truthful answers.” He motions toward the door. It opens, and a Spinner walks in with a sheaf of papers. She passes them out, and I pull a pen from my handbag and start filling it out as the Prophet continues telling us all the benefits of becoming a Maiden.

Name: Emily Lanier

I print my address, birthdate, and social security number. They’ll use this information to erase me, to change me into whatever new persona the Prophet creates for me at the Cloister. I discovered the way they erase the victims when I was searching for records on Georgia. Her name had legally been changed to Mary, her taxes filed for her. They even claimed government benefits in her name—food stamps and welfare checks delivered to a Heavenly address. The Prophet’s scheme covers every angle, keeps the Maidens dependent on him, and changes them at an almost cellular level into whatever he wants them to be. By filling this out, I’m offering myself up to be destroyed. But I do what I have to do for my sister, for justice.

I fill out every blank space, determined to seem as transparent as possible. I have to get in.