Creed (18 page)

A car pulled alongside the chapel, and Joseph tensed beside me. I ignored the man exiting the driver’s side and followed Joseph’s gaze to the passenger side, my eyes trailing from the man’s polished boots to his crisp pants to the gun holstered at his side. I kept going, my heart catching in my throat when I saw his shiny silver badge.

A tiny bit of hope surfaced as I took in his brown uniform. The Hoopers must have sensed something was wrong when I didn’t call last night and notified the police. Or maybe somebody passing by heard the sirens or saw our mangled car and called it in. Perhaps Mike had gotten away. Propelled by my own stupid optimism, I lunged forward. If I could only get his attention.

Joseph gripped my forearm, hard. I was about to shake him off when the look on his face stopped me cold.

“What?” I asked.

A tight nod of his head told me I wasn’t seeing what I thought I was. “My uncles,” he said.

“Jared. Jacob. So good of you to come,” Elijah called out, his voice loud and startling as if he intended it to carry my way. “As you know, this is a very important day for both me and our family.”

Joseph released my arm and moved so I’d have a clear view of his uncles. “They’re not here to help you, Dee. They’re not here to help any of us.”

Both men bowed their heads. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world, Elijah,” the officer said as he pulled a large envelope from the inside of his jacket. The second man followed suit, producing a smaller one from his briefcase. He was dressed impeccably, in a suit and a pale blue shirt. He looked more like a banker than a small-town councilman.

“Never late with your share, are you, brothers?”

Elijah hugged them both and motioned to two women and half a dozen kids standing on the chapel’s front lawn. The kids came rushing forward, chanting the word “Daddy” as they each found some part of the men to cling to. Their wives followed behind quietly. I watched as each man carefully extricated a hand and held it out to his wife. The look of complete adoration and utter happiness on the women’s faces made me sick.

“
Brothers
,” I groaned. They weren’t my hope. They were another dead end.

Elijah turned back to face us, and the sheriff’s eyes traveled past him and landed on me. Every muscle in my body tensed as the man’s smile widened. Apparently, he approved of Elijah’s choice of brides. Well, screw him.

“Rebekah, it’s time,” Elijah said, beckoning me forward.

I swallowed hard rather than say something that would get Luke hurt even more.

Elijah opened the doors wide and the entire congregation turned to see me. I quickly ran through the math in my head as I walked down the center aisle, impressed that I still had the presence of mind to do simple calculations. There were twenty pews, ten on each side. I counted the heads of the people in the row to my left. Eight—nine if you counted the infant bundled into his mother’s arms.

My mind quickly flashed back to the signs in the maintenance shed. One fifty? No, one forty-nine. Minus Joseph’s mom made it one-forty eight. Elijah could fit the whole damn town in this chapel, and judging from the cramped space, he’d done just that.

“Your seat, my dear,” Elijah said as he guided me down into the hard wooden pew. “I’ll be introducing you shortly, so keep in mind everything we discussed. This would be a very bad time for you to become defiant. Bad for you; worse for your friends. Understood?”

I nodded mechanically as he walked away, then looked up and down both sides of the room for an exit. Other than the door we’d come through, I found nothing. Not that I’d have a prayer of getting out of here anyway. Not with a hundred and forty-eight eerily faithful servants blocking my way.

The front of the sanctuary held a long table. Scattered across it were a few leather-bound books, three pillar candles, and a book of matches. Off to the side was a podium with a plaque bolted to its front. I had to squint to make out the words
past
,
present
, and
future
.

I watched as Elijah’s brother, the councilman, walked up and began lighting the candles one at a time. He’d changed his clothes. Gone was the fancy suit and tie; in its place were the same plain black pants and white shirt everybody else was wearing. I swiveled around and searched the congregation for the sheriff. He was heading down the center aisle. No gun, no uniform, just the same ugly, Purity Springs-issued prison suit.

Joseph slipped into the row across the aisle, looking past me to wink at his sister. His face was tense, his eyes dark as he mouthed the words “I’m sorry” to me. I looked away. He wasn’t sorry. He was guilty, and I wasn’t about to help ease his conscience.

Elijah tapped on the altar. That tiny noise sent the room into complete silence, and he dropped his head in prayer. I watched as everybody followed suit, their heads dipping down and their lips whispering in unison. Chills raced up my arms as the hushed voices closed in around me. I kept my eyes on Eden, frantically trying to figure out what she was chanting.

Joseph coughed, and I looked up to see Elijah staring down at me. I smiled, playing along, and he returned his attention back to his congregation.

“You look afraid. Are you?”

I turned toward Eden’s whispered words. Her huge eyes looked worried, her fingers rubbing the same satin-lined pocket as before.

I looked up to make sure Elijah was fully immersed in his prophesying duties before I whispered back, “A little. Are you?”

Sitting there, watching her rub that small spot of fabric like a child, I began to understand why Joseph was willing to risk his life for her. Eden didn’t stand a chance, and with their mother gone, Joseph was her only hope.

Eden kept her eyes focused forward as she quickly shook her head. “No, I’m not scared. Most of the time I’m just lonely.” Her fingers disappeared into the pocket of her skirt and she pulled out what looked like a piece of dried corn husk.

“Whatcha got there?” I whispered.

“Joseph made it for me,” Eden said shyly. Her eyes lit up. It was the tiniest flicker of adoration, and it only lasted a second, but it was enough for me to know she worshipped her brother. “We’re not supposed to have toys, but Joseph said every little girl needs a doll.”

She inched the small figure closer to me, holding it out as if giving me permission to inspect it. I turned my head slightly and caught a glimpse of Joseph. He bowed his head, motioning for me to do the same. He had no idea what his sister and I were talking about, and that made his gentle nod in our direction that much sweeter.

“Can I see it?” I asked.

Eden laid the doll down on the pew between us, rearranging her skirt to keep it hidden. I ran my fingers across the ball at the top. It was dry, the husks aging and beginning to peel away. Joseph had used ink to fashion eyes. There was a mouth, too, but it was nearly gone, faded from use. Around the doll was a scrap of white fabric. It was nothing more than a rectangle with a notch cut out for the head and a piece of twine cinched around what was supposed to be a waist, but it served its purpose.

“I have more,” she said as she pulled out two more pieces of fabric—light blue and black. I couldn’t help but smile. Joseph had made her a doll, complete with an interchangeable wardrobe.

Eden caught my expression and nudged the doll in my direction. “She makes you happy.”

It wasn’t the doll so much as it was Joseph. Despite who his father was and all he’d been forced to endure, he could still be kind and gentle when it came to his sister. “Yes. She’s very pretty.”

“Then you keep her,” Eden said.

“I couldn’t,” I responded, thinking I would rather die than take this girl’s only toy. “Joseph made her for you. She belongs with you.”

“He can make me another.” Eden picked the doll up and felt around my skirt until she found the pocket. Her fingers worked quickly, and before I could argue, she had the doll safely tucked inside.

I didn’t know what to say.
Thank you
didn’t seem to be enough. She was a little girl with no mother and a head-case for a father; the only good thing in her life was Joseph, and he was forced to risk his own safety to make her a doll. I never imagined I’d think it, but even my past paled in comparison to this.

I clenched my eyes shut, my resolve wavering. I hadn’t expected this, hadn’t planned on saving anybody but myself and Luke and Mike. But I knew I wouldn’t leave her behind now. I couldn’t.

TWENTY-SIX

“Rebekah.”

The name floated through the air, but I didn’t register it as my own. Joseph stood up and backed out of his own pew before motioning for me to get up.

“Dee, go,” he whispered.

Elijah’s hand was outstretched in an act of kindness, but his eyes promised retribution should I do anything to step out of my role. My feet felt like lead as I climbed the steps, my eyes never meeting his. He grasped my shoulders as I reached him and turned me around to face the congregation.

I looked to the back of the room, where three large wooden crosses hung above the entrance. A trio of silver bowls—not unlike the one I’d seen overflowing with my own blood—sat atop a table near the door.

My eyes flicked to the words inscribed on Elijah’s podium.
Past
,
present
, and
future.
I wasn’t a particularly religious person. The way I saw it, God had given up on me the day I was born. But after suffering through a few masses with the Hoopers, even I knew that those words referred to more than verb tense. They referred to the three divisions of time, and sometimes to prophecies.

Prophecies.

I closed my eyes and reopened them, hoping that things would look different, that I wouldn’t be staring at an entire room filled with the number three.

I swiveled around to face the candles flickering behind me. Three separate and distinct flames danced in and out of each other’s paths. I stiffened as the final realization slammed into me. There were three of us stuck here. Three of us who were supposed to be on a three-day trip.

And tomorrow … tomorrow would be day three.

I was going crazy. I had to be, because the thoughts racing through my mind were completely illogical. Impossible. Luke’s obsession with the number three had nothing to do with what was happening.
Nothing
.

Elijah was still talking, his not-so-gentle squeeze of my hand reminding me to stay in the game.

Most of the congregation was on their feet, clapping. I hadn’t heard Elijah’s introduction, but judging from his followers’ reactions, they obviously approved of me. Of course they would. He could tell them all to drink battery acid and they would blindly oblige.

The applause died out and Joseph sat back down, mouthing the words “It’s all right” to me as he tried for a reassuring look. I didn’t need reassurance, but the fact that
he
thought I did had me taking a second look at Elijah.

Elijah’s brother—the sheriff this time—stood up and made his way to the back of the church. He collected three silver bowls and a long white scarf before making his way back toward me.

Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion, each movement around me deliberate and methodical. The three empty bowls were placed on the altar, and then Elijah carefully undid the button on the cuff of his shirt, his eyes never leaving mine as he rolled up his right sleeve.

“Smile, my love. This is the most important day of your life,” Elijah said as he grabbed my arm and pushed the sleeve of my shirt to my elbow.

The most important day of my life?
I surveyed the faces staring at me. They all looked expectant, full of joy and promise. “I don’t understand,” I murmured.

Elijah’s hand lingered in the crook of my arm, his fingers tracing the veins leading to by wrist. With a nod to his brother, he grabbed onto my hand and turned it so my palm lay face up inside his. “Jared, would you please?”

His brother placed the white scarf over my forearm and wrapped it around twice, attaching the other end to Elijah the same way.

Elijah took one large step back toward the altar, our bound wrists forcing me to move with him. Then he leaned in, his free hand cupping the side of my cheek. “Today I will tie you to me in every way possible.”

I shook my head, the horror of what he was saying settling in. “You said this was about me meeting your family, about introducing me to your followers,” I choked out.

“I
am
introducing you … as my wife.”

I went to yank my hand free. “Don’t,” Elijah said. “Re-member, it won’t be you who suffers, but your friends.”

He side-stepped me over to where his other brother was shifting the bowls, aligning them perfectly beneath our bound wrists. It wasn’t until I saw the knife that everything finally clicked into place.

There weren’t going to be any traditional wedding vows. That would be too easy. Too normal. No, Elijah was going to blood-oath us; slit both our palms and mingle our blood so that our spirits, our essences, combined.