“We will,” Nathaniel assured me, his fingers finding my chin, tilting my head up to look at him. “But we’ll need to wait.”
“Wait?”
“Someone will open the door eventually,” he said, “and when they do, it’ll be our chance to escape.”
“There’s just one problem,” I said, slowly glancing down at my feet which were chained to the shallow pool of water at our feet.
Nathaniel followed my gaze. “Fuck.” He tugged at the chains, the iron slicing at my flesh. “FUCK!”
A droplet of blood danced through the dark water. “You’re not restrained,” I observed. “You can leave. If we create a distraction and–”
“No,” he cut me off, shaking his head, “I’m not leaving you.”
“You have to,” I said, “it’s my fault you’re even in this mess. Joe doesn’t want you. He wants me.”
“I don’t give a fuck,” Nathaniel said. “I’m not leaving you. We’re going to get out of here. Together.”
“And how do you propose we do that?”
“We wait.”
“That’s what you said before.”
“I know, I’m pretty consistent, aren’t I?” he teased.
“Nathaniel–”
“Just trust me, okay?”
“I do trust you but–”
“We’re going to get out of here,” Nathaniel said, cupping either side of my face. “Just follow my lead, okay? We spent a whole term learning about the psychological manipulation of cults. I think I may have picked up a thing or two.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying…” he turned his head toward the door, “...I’m going to manipulate Joe into letting us go.”
I shook my head. “He wouldn’t do that.”
“He would…if he believed it was God’s will.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
I had been drifting in and out of sleep when the door creaked open, a faint yellow glow following Joe inside the room. He was dressed in a long priestly gown, white robes fluttering behind him as he clutched the gold crucifix hanging from his neck. He raised it to his lips and kissed it, slowly, eyelids fluttered shut as though in prayer. A small Bible was tucked under his arm, several pages notably absent, no doubt torn out so as not to contradict his teachings.
“You look ridiculous,” I said in greeting. Nathaniel had allocated me the role of arrogant demon—a role I played easily since Joe really did look pathetic. "For someone who spits on Catholicism, you do resemble Father Andrej a lot with your costume."
"It is not a costume," Nathaniel defended him, playing the role of devoted believer, "he is a messenger of God. A soldier."
“Not a very good one,” I mumbled.
“What would you know,demon?” Nathaniel hissed.
"I thought you said there was no demon," Joe said, glancing in between us, a mixture of amusement and confusion fighting for dominance on his old, wrinkled face.
"That was before I saw it inside him," Nathaniel spat, lips curled in disgust. "I didn't want to believe it. But…it's why I brought him here. I sensed…something evil. I want the demon gone."
Joe arched an eyebrow.
