“Secrets are fun, aren’t they?” I asked.
He was clearly displeased as he pulled out a few notebooks and spread them out over his desk, opening them to seemingly random pages for me to see. “Fine, whatever.” He released a breath. “You perfected the program here years ago,” he told me. “Although, it does need some upgrades now, it’s still better than it would have been without you, and despite what they all say, you are the best of us. Not the most stable, but you’ve gone through the program a few times in the earlier years, perfecting it, tweaking it, giving Malachi notes he decided to take.”
Because he knew that he would never get soldiers like me who would willingly follow him into their graves without my help. Sure, there were more deaths throughout each group of participants, but when they came out, they were so much better than they had been before.
And yet I had been the one sentenced away for an entire year simply because I craved blood more than they. Such. A. Pity.
“I want you to help me build my idea, but I don’t want anyone to know about it, not until it’s perfected.”
I used the end of my cane to turn one of the notebooks my way, taking in his writing, his blueprints. This could benefit us in the long run, so long as he doesn’t enact his plan before he should.
“Less survivors,” I warned him.
“Better people to send into the world.”
I found his icy blue eyes, searching them carefully, my smile stretching from ear to ear. “Let’s get started.”
3
Scarlett
2016
Shewas finally dead.
11 and a half years of her preparing me for my 20thbirthday, and she died before I turned 12.
The rain fell, everyone was dressed in black, mourning the loss of such a beloved member of the church, and all I could feel was numbness.
Numbness and Thomas’ arm wrapped around my shoulders, I assume trying to comfort me in my time of such loss.
I don’t think I could label comfort if it slapped me in the face, but I knew for a fact that he was not trying to comfort me. Not in the slightest.
My shoulders were so narrow, his arm hung low on my other side, his fingers brushing my waist. All of my muscles felt so tight, my neck ached, but I didn’t dare move. This was allowed. He was comforting me.
I was born into this church, and I had been dreaming every second of my short life about leaving it, but I was a Favorite and there was only one way I was leaving this place.
The rules of a Favorite were simple:
No speaking.
No lifting your eyes above the shin, and that was pushing it.
Stay pure until the moment you marry your betrothed.
If you are not betrothed before your 20thbirthday, then you were taken to Absolution, and you were never seen again.
I was lucky. I was betrothed to Thomas when I turned 9. A gift to the Pastor’s son. I had been born with a genetic condition that changed some strands of my hair white. A lot of strands. Because of that, I was told I was the Blessed One, and my mother had spent the first near decade of my life being cooed over in order to earn me.
But who better to get me than the son of the most powerful man in the church.
One of the most powerful men.
Pastor Master’s was one step below the Elders, who reigned over the seven churches and their branches. The Elders were one step below the Founder, who started this church in 1991. The idea of it spread quickly, and by 1995, all seven churches had been established, my church leading the group. The Leaders of each church, of which mine had five, not including Pastor Masters, had been in their position for a long time, all men, although they had wives and children too.
Below the Leaders were the Pillars.
Pillars could be men and women alike. They were allowed to know the secrets of the church, just not as many as the Leaders. There were regular people too. People who attended the church who didn’t know the truth behind what happened here. I envied them. Sometimes I wondered what they did when they left. Other times I didn’t allow myself the breath it gave me.
