June laughed, and the sound of it went straight to my chest. “I don’t know…you did more than a little work sanctifying the altar, too.”
I cleared my throat. “Can’t just say things like that out loud, Reverend.”
She smirked. “Pretty sure I can say whatever I want in my church.”
“Well, technically it’smychurch.” I paused, looking down at her. “But I’d share it with you.”
She stared at me for a moment…then stood on her toes and kissed my cheek. “That’s good,” she whispered. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”
June lingered for another moment, her fingers toying with the hem of her dress like she wasn’t quite ready to move. Then she took a breath, squared her shoulders, and looked up at me with the same fire she’d had the night we cleansed my bedroom.
“I should go greet some more folks,” she said. “Delilah’s probably traumatizing someone already.”
I smiled. “And we wouldn’t want her to have all the fun.”
June winked, stepped away, and disappeared into the crowd—stopping every few steps to smile, to shake a hand, to beam like the church had always been hers. I stood there for a beat, letting myself breathe it in…the buzz of conversation, clinking dishes,community. I’d been ready to let this place go…to burn it to the ground, maybe.
But now? Now it felt like something was coming back to life.
I moved forward just enough to lean on the doorway from the fellowship hall, looking toward the double doors of the church. A warm draft passed through the space, stirring the hymnals stacked by the entryway, fluttering the blank name tags on the welcome table.
Then—
Bang!
A thud cracked against the stained-glass window in the steeple, directly above me. I flinched, jerking toward the soundjust in time to see black feathers floating down the outside pane.
A crow.
Or…what was left of one.
“What the hell…” I muttered, stepping out of the doorway to look out through the window on the ground floor. I saw the bird in seconds—still on the ground, dead.
A bad omen, whispered something low in my gut. A sign…something that Ineededto protect June from.
And that was when I heard Delilah’s voice rise about the din.
“You need to get the fuck out of here, asshole.”
Heads turned; conversation stuttered and dropped off.
My spine snapped straight.
Delilah stood near the welcome table, a plastic knife in her hand like she was going to cut someone with it. June looked confused, though she was quickly getting an understanding of what was going on.
And standing at the threshold, calm as a snake in the grass, was Abel Trent.
He looked the same as he had all those years ago—sharp suit, slicked-back brown hair, and a too-bright, too-wide smile. Behind him were three more figures, men in white button-ups and slacks. All of them radiated a kind of twitchy righteousness I knew too well.
The Remnant Fellowship…resurrected.
My jaw clenched as I stepped out from the shadow of the doorway, striding quick as I could to the front door, to get between June and these men. I could feel it in my bones—the shift in the air, the static at the back of my neck.
Something wasn’t right. Something wasn’t safe.
The tall man behind Abel moved first, reaching into a satchel and pulling out a handful of neatly folded pamphlets,featuring red ink on cream paper. The title at the top was bold enough for me to read from ten feet away.
THE FINAL HARVEST:
