For the entirety of my time in this place, I was always a part of the inner circle. I was privy to knowledge others weren’t. Most of these people know they’ve been invited here to die, but they truly believe god is coming for them—when really they’re just lining up for slaughter at Silas’ hand.
“Pay no heed to the fires, for God has stoked them with his almighty reach. To rid the wicked the opportunity to take what is not theirs as we usher into the heavenly gates.”
Fires? As in plural? Sure enough, Silas’ house isn’t the only one ablaze. Flames creep across the windows in each house. Silas is one crazy sonofabitch. Not only is he about to commit mass ritual suicide, but he’s also hellbent on making sure there’s nothing left. That, or he’s sending smoke signals because he wants the world to know what happened here sooner rather than later. Those who crave power desire for their names to be remembered.
I peek back around the tree to see the congregation drinking from tin cupsin unison.
Setting Silas’ house on fire was supposed to be a distraction for him, but I’m the one who ended up distracted. I step out from behind the tree and approach, passing through the fiery glow of the torches.
“Tell them the truth!” I scream, my lips trembling.
A cascade of eyes turns to me in a wave that crests at the podium.
Silas meets my gaze with a half-cocked grin.
Beside him, a cup falls from Senya’s hand. Her upper lip is stained in red from the punch.
I hold my hands before me, gesturing that I’m not a threat. These people are so brainwashed, though. There’s a good chance Noah will find my dead body with a hole in my skull. “Silas is lying to you. There is no such thing as Ascension.” I point to him, standing on that fucking stage with that fucking smirk of his. “He is not a man of god any more than I am. Any more than Magnus was.”
“You’ve been lost since I met you.” He steps to the edge of the stage and squats with his knees bowed outward. “You know what I think? The devil sent you here himself. You taint everything you touch.” He slaps his hands on his knees and rises back to his feet. “Hold him down.”
A hand lands on each of my shoulders, pushing me to the ground. I grit my teeth and strain as I attempt to free myself, but I’m no match for the two brutes holding me down. My knees dig into the mud.
“I tried to save you so many times, and what did I ever get in return?”
“You always wanted more, didn’t you?”
“No more questions, Seven.” He wags his finger toward someone in the crowd, but I can’t make out who. “I wish things were different, but you’ve left me an impossible choice. You’re not coming with us. You will rot in this material world, but my family is coming with me.”
Nany, Magnus’ mother, guides Silas Jr. down the torch-lit path. She’s ancient with stringy gray hair down the length of her back. She walks slow and steady at a pace fit for a child. My nephew appears dazed and tired, holding Nany’s hand with an iron grip. He’s always been a shy kid, and being the center of the attention probably makes him want to run and hide.
The two of them make their way up the steps and pass my sister. She juts forward, trying to intercept her son, but is grabbed by the last remaining enforcer on the stage. Nany releases Silas Jr.’s hand as they approach Silas.
“How are you going to do it, Silas?” I ask. “Do you have a militia of men with guns waiting to ambush? You think you can convince every person here to slit their own wrist? Are you going to lead them all into the fires you lit?”
He scoops his son into his arms and cradles him against his chest. “That’d be much too messy. Everyone here is already half dead.” He grabsa cup from the table beside him and holds it against Silas Jr.’s lips. “It’s in the punch.”
The world turns slowly as I find myself looking at the congregation.
Looking at the faces of horror, shock, confusion, and then there are a few who are painted in broad strokes of peace and acceptance. The first cough draws my attention to a table to my left. A middle-aged man jumps to his feet, knocking his chair to the ground. He pounds a fist over his chest. To my right, a young mother in a flowery dress spits at the ground. And then vomits as she falls to her hands and knees. And then a chorus of hacking, coughing, vomiting. Screams and wails as bodies fall like dominos.
Slow motion as I swallow the guilt of knowing I’ve failed to save anyone.
Bang!
Silas Jr. tumbles from Silas grip, landing on his feet. He takes off running behind the table and ducks down. He watches as his father tumbles forward, a hole in his head, and falls face-first off the front of the stage.
“Let him the fuck go,” Noah screams from the side.
Bang!
A ringing in my ear as the weight of one brute is released from my shoulder, his body rolling to the ground, blood spraying from the side of his throat.
Bang!
The other man falls, a bullet to his head.
Free from my captors, I fall forward and immediately scramble to the stage. Senya crawls to me, the life draining from her body. I drop onto my knees and take her into my lap, brush the hair from her face and shake my head defiantly. “Please don’t leave me.”
