“No one leaves, do they, Noah? Most of all not young ladies who should know so much better.” The Prophet’s eyes meet mine, and he grins, wide and unhinged. “Welcome home, my angel.”
He uses the name Cain sometimes uses for me, but coming from the Prophet’s lips, it’s dark and tawdry. He’s wearing a long black cassock that touches the floor. When he moves, he does so with so little movement in his upper body, it’s as though he’s floating.
I bite back a sob, my teeth clamping down on my cheeks to stop the sound escaping. I won’t give him the satisfaction.
“We’ve missed you so, haven’t we, Noah?”
“Indeed.” Noah walks up to me and Daisy, circling us like a wolf sniffing out prey.
The Prophet strolls right up to me, his face calm, but his eyes glittering with almost crazed desire as he looks down. Not sexual desire, no, this is something much darker.
“You’re dressed like a whore, Ophelia.” He sneers at me, his head shaking in disgust. “You left me, and now you return to us dressed like this. Are you a whore? Is that why you left? To sin?”
“N-n-no,” I say quietly.
“So, you’re not a whore? You’re still a virgin, then? If I check for myself, you’ll be intact?”
A whimper escapes my clamped lips.
“I know you’re lying to me. I saw you, through our connection. You and those men. Together.”
Oh, God, this can’t be happening. How does he know? Daisy, maybe? I’m not sure she’d call him and dare to tell him about my sexual activities. But if he knows about them, it must mean all those times I heard him… saw him in my mind… Faintness washes over me, and my head falls forward, the church retreating in my vision. Was it real?
Icy cold. So very cold.
I gasp, my head shooting up, and another wave of frigid ice hits me.
The Prophet scoops handfuls of freezing water over me from the large stone font at the front of the church. It’s drenched me, and my hair is plastered to my head, but my already revealing clothing is now also plastered to my skin.
“With this holy water, I will save your immortal soul,” he chants.
My nipples are hard from the frigid water, and my sleep shorts mold to my core.
The Prophet stares at my breasts.
“You dirty sinner,” he hisses. “You make us all into sinners.”
He turns to Noah, who is staring at me, too, looking like a man who hasn’t eaten in a year, faced with a feast.
“Look at Noah. He’s one of our best men, but see the lust on his face? You did that. You know…” He walks around me, his gaze taking in every inch of me. “Perhaps our men should be allowed one final taste of earthly sins before they ascend? None of our women should be made to bear that, but you?” The Prophet laughs. “You’re already a whore.”
The tears come. I can’t stop them now. This is a nightmare; it must be. I’m back at the water tower dreaming, and any moment now I’ll wake up because this, this cannot be real.
He leans down and pinches my nipple hard through my soaking top, and I gasp in shock and pain. What is happening? He is an awful man, but he’s never behaved this way before.
“Prophet!” Noah shouts, his tone reprehensive.
As if a spell has been broken, the Prophet blinks and shakes his head.
“I’m sorry, I sinned. The stress… the planning. She’s meant to be my angel, but she’s nothing but a whore.”
I hear the slap before I feel it. It cracks in my ear like a whip and is swiftly followed by burning pain. He smacked me across the face. That, the violence, isn’t new.
“Wicked, dreadful creature,” he shouts.
Spittle lands on my cheek, near to my scar, and I shudder in revulsion, unable to wipe it off.
“My Prophet, the townsfolk will be here soon to begin the ceremony. We told them to be here for the first light of dawn, which won’t be long now. What do you need me to do?” Noah looks around the church.
