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Not that it matters.

The only thing—person—that mattered, betrayed me.

There’s a sour taste in my mouth accompanied by a film of dryness as I blow air out through my mouth in an attempt to calm myself down. It’s no use, though, because it just makes me quake. They could be taking me out to kill me right now and I wouldn’t care.

The car takes a turn into a gated community where everything looks like it’s come straight out of the Victorian era. What I know for certain is I’m not in Blackcastle anymore, but I’m not far from it. Maybe the outskirts? I don’t know. And the longer I sit here, the more I realise I don’t really care anymore. I have no one left that cares for me apart from Cassie.

The two men in the front seat stare blankly at the gravel path before us. Stones crunch under the tyres as the driver turns and steers us through tall, iron gates. We really can’t be far because the architecture here is the same. It almost looks like it’s part of the town.

I slide my back against the leather seats in the middle, clearing my view so I can see out the window. We’re coming up to a large, intricately carved building, something that resembles a church, but not quite. A static noise jolts me in my seat and causes my heart to jump in my chest and glue my back to the seat again.

“We’re pulling up now with the girl.” This is the first time I’ve heard one of the men speak since being shoved in the car. The radio bleeps before the air quiets again.

We roll to a stop beside a priest wearing an Alb and a nun.

One of them opens my door, letting in the frigid air and causing shivers to climb up my body, but not entirely from the cold. The man bends at the waist, practically pushing his withered face into the car.

“Good evening, Miss Clarence. We’ve been expecting you for a long time.” He steps to the side and opens the door wider. “Please,” he says, gesturing for me to get out of the car.

I have no options here because what else would I do? Run? I don’t even know where I am. And strangely, I feel like I’m safer with these church officials than I ever was with my mother and Blackcastle.

Heart starting a pounding rhythm, I stretch my legs and step out, but my ankle twists briefly as my heel slips between the stones. The priest slams the door behind me and the car all but speeds off, leaving us in near silence of the night, bar the persistent chirping of crickets. My eyes sting and my nose is completely blocked.

My gut twists as I slowly start to realise where Mother might have sent me.

“So…” The priest claps his hands while the nun stares at me intently, a wide smile plastered on her face. “Shall we head inside? It’s rather cold out here.”

“Um,” I say, my voice cracking. The last words I spoke were cursing Kain Westbrook. Between that and crying, I can’t help the roughness of my throat. “My…” My what? My clothes? My life? Where the frick am I? “My… clothes?”

“Oh! You won’t need those,” the nun chirps, proceeding to walk towards the glowing building.

“We will provide you with clothes here.” The priest follows after her and because, again, I don’t really have a choice, I also follow.

“In fact, you’ll be wearing a habit during your time here,” the nun states. I almost stop in my tracks, and I can’t help the next question that comes out.

“Where am I?”

“You’re at Saint Anton’s Convent School, my child,” the priest says as we’re enveloped by the warmth of the building's reception.

A shiver runs up my spine and my breath catches. “But I’m eighteen.” I can’t help the confusion in my voice.

They both chuckle before the woman disappears through a door behind the large reception desk. “It’s not that type of school. Here you’ll learn about our Lord and Saviour. You’ll accept him into your soul. We’ll purify you, child.”

Purify?

“Because, if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. Romans 10:9.” The priest quotes effortlessly with hands folded in front of him and that’s when I notice the number of perfectly straight cuts littering his hands. “You’ve been up to no good, child. You must repent for your sins.”

“Hopefully when you return to your family, you’ll be ready for your future husband and ready to bring more tiny miracles of God into the world,” the nun says, her voice carrying from the room she’s in.

“What the fuck?” I blurt because quite honestly, I don’t have any other words left in me.

She appears in front of me as I drag my gaze away from his hands. “Starting with that foul tongue of yours,” she scolds, clicking her tongue and analysing me from head to toe. Her face twists as she takes in my black hair. “The hair has to go.”

“My hair? This is my natural colour…”

“It’s the Devil’s colour,” the priest adds. I take a quick glance at his hands then back up at him, but he doesn’t seem to care.

The nun shoves a small, plastic box into my stomach causing me to grunt. “Clothes,” she demands.