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“He does,” I rasped. “So many things.”
I opened my eyes slowly, making a big show out of blinking. It had only been a minute, but that was long enough. Dragging it out longer would bore even me.
All eyes were on me, and I had to resist the urge to lift a hand and wave. Some looked bemused. Others were curious. And a few were skating a little too close to scepticism. Interesting, given what they’d signed up for. Although I already suspected there were some, particularly the men who wouldn’t figure in William’s marriage plans, here for the roof over their head and three square meals rather than for any divine purpose.
“Get out,” William said quietly. Nobody moved. “GET OUT!”
That did it. They scattered, almost falling over themselves in their haste to leave the room. Their shocked expressions said they weren’t used to Beloved Father shouting. Guilt pricked at me for choosing mealtime, the room now a graveyard of abandoned bowls.
Even Bruce cleared out, leaving only William and me.
“Well?” he demanded as footsteps still echoed down the corridor.
“First, He wants you to know you’re doing a terrific job. That He holds you in high esteem.”
William waved that aside. “Did he mention the girl?”
“Mention, no.” I let the pause stretch. “Visions take many forms. Sometimes words, but mostly pictures. He didn’t say her name, but He showed her to me.”
Excitement dawned in William’s eyes. He dragged his chair closer, leaning forward. “I’m listening.”
“The pictures aren’t always clear.” I hesitated, then shaped the image into something he’d want—something close to the wife he seemed to favor most. “Long dark hair.” I swept my hand over my head to illustrate. “Green eyes. A button nose. Heart-shaped lips. Very pretty.”
“What’s her body like?”
Could he sound any sleazier? “Curvy.”
“And she’s immune?”
“I don’t see why the Lord would show her to me if she wasn’t.”
“Where is she? I’ll send someone. Bruce, perhaps.”
“I don’t know.” His glare darkened, so I hurried on. “Not yet. But the Lord will show me. You just need to be patient.”
“I’ve been patient.”
“You have,” I said soothingly. “Incredibly patient. You just need to wait a little longer.”
Meanwhile, I had to work out how to use this to deliver him straight to Keaton in a convincing enough way he’d fall for it.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Keaton
The days stretched like a lifetime now that I was alone again. Ridiculous really, when August had only been in my life for such a short time. He’d warned me that earning the bastard’s trust—I refused to use his name—would take as long as it took. The worst thing in a con, he’d said, was cutting corners. But how long was as long as it took? A week? Two? A month? Longer?
Unless he was already dead and I was waiting for no one. That thought pushed at me often, unwelcome and insistent. No, that wasn’t a possibility. I refused to let it be one. August couldn’t die because of me. It was inconceivable. He’d succeed, and I’d have my vengeance.
For the first couple of days, I just moped. By day three, when the sky threatened rain, I forced myself to the community to stock up on food in case I got stuck inside. When they asked questions about August’s whereabouts, I lied and said he was ill. It was easier than telling them he’d joined a cult, and far easier than the truth. They accepted it, and I left with enough food for a week. Which was just as well when the heavens opened and trapped me inside for the next two days.
Boredom had gotten the better of me by then, and I knew that if I didn’t find something to do, I’d go stir crazy. Unfortunately, Dover didn’t offer many options. No bar to drink at, and unless I counted the cult I’d been expressly ordered to stay away from, there was no community beyond the small one nearby.
So I set myself up as a one-man strike force against biters. Only for a couple of hours a day, and always with one eye on the castle in case there was any movement. The exertion of the ‘job’ at least left me exhausted enough to sleep for a few hours, though the empty side of the mattress mocked me.
On day seven, I stumbled across Madeleine in an abandoned shopping center. The white robe, just like Serena’s, gave her away instantly. Seeing her brought a strange mix of comfort and unease. Comfort, because if she was here, she wasn’t in the castle to betray August. Unease, because it was too soon after Serena for another girl in a white robe not to hit me where it hurt.
She stood outside what had once been a clothing store, most of it long since picked over to leave only empty coat hangers and the occasional scrap of fabric on the floor. It occurred to me as I approached her silently, avoiding the shards of broken glass that might crunch underfoot, that maybe she used to shop here.
