The Church (The Cloister Trilogy 3)
I tingle all over and drop back down to my heels.
“Get a room, sheesh.” Noah shakes his head, but he can’t hide his grin.
“Emily, whenever you’re ready.” Zion stands with his arms crossed and looks out at the audience. The church is half full, the rest possibly watching on the Heavenly channel from their homes. Or maybe they’re shunning any association with the church, pretending that the Prophet never swayed their souls toward damnation.
“You can do this.” Adam squeezes my hand one more time and steps back, his eyes never leaving me.
“Miss Lanier.” An agent hands me a microphone and shows me how to turn it on.
I take a deep breath, then walk out onstage. The lights are blinding, and I can’t see the crowd anymore. My remarks aren’t scripted, so the teleprompter only shows the beginning of Noah’s prepared speech. Looking up, I see myself on the huge screens along the upper auditorium. My dress—peacock blue with an empire waist and a hem that falls above my knee—flatters my too-thin frame and hides the bandages I still wear over my cuts.
Stopping on a black x toward the front, I flip on the microphone and bring it up. Can I do this? I take a deep breath and, to my surprise, the words flow.
“Once upon a time, I had a sister.” My voice is loud and bright through the speakers. “Her name was Georgia. She was the most beautiful soul I’ve ever met. Smart, funny, brave. She was everything I wished I could be.” Emotion threatens to stifle me, but I set it aside for now. For now, I have to speak my truth in a way that these people will hear it. “But then she joined the Cloister. And she died because of it. When I couldn’t get answers, I joined the Cloister to find out why she was taken from me. Even though I knew exactly what the Cloister was. Some of you knew, too.” I clear my throat. “But I’m not here to accuse or judge, I’m here to testify about what happened to Georgia, what happened to me, and how we can all change the future so as not to make the mistakes of the past.”
I glance at Adam. He stands rapt, his gaze on me, pride in his eyes. And he gives me the strength to go on, to tell about the abuse, about the friends I made and lost, and above all, about the love I found and will keep in my heart for the rest of my life.
***
“I can say for a fact that was the best sermon I ever heard at Heavenly.” Davis meets us in the lobby of our downtown Birmingham hotel. “And the improv parts, damn. You sure you can’t be persuaded to stay—”
“I need a drink.” Noah peels off and beelines for the hotel bar.
Davis curses under his breath.
“Lay off him.” Adam keeps walking, his limp still there but less pronounced. He impatiently pulls me with him, and a shiver shoots to my toes because I know why.
The din outside wafts into the lobby whenever the door opens—media and zealots vying for attention in front of the hotel. We haven’t given interviews, and we won’t. Reliving it at the church was enough for me, and the nightmares haven’t stopped. Maybe they never will.
Davis hurries to catch up. “We still need to talk about your plans. Where the two of you will go, what to do about Emily’s mother. We’ll need you to be available for the trials. There’s planning that needs to—”
Adam jabs the elevator button and turns to Davis. “Step the fuck away.”
Davis hesitates. “I—”
“Let me rephrase.” Adam’s voice, already hoarse, lowers to deadly levels. “Step the fuck away or I’ll beat your ass the same way I did at the compound.”
Davis glowers but moves away. “This conversation isn’t over.”
Adam turns his back on him. As in, the conversation is definitely over.
The elevator opens and we step on. Adam stabs the “door close” button until I think he may break a finger.
I slide my palm down the front of his suit. “We are going to have to talk to him at some point.”
“Not now.”
When the doors finally close, he backs me against the elevator’s side wall. “Do you have any idea how proud I am of you?”
My heart falls all over itself, but I give a little shrug. “You told me a few times.”
“Not enough.” He runs a hand through my hair. “Not nearly enough.” Though I expect it, his kiss still sends shockwaves through me. His mouth pressing against mine, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips. I open for him, and he groans, his hands tangled in my hair as the elevator slowly rises to our floor.
When the door opens, he pulls away and grabs my hand, hurrying to our room.