Redemption (17 page)

“It’s all part of the cycle, Dayton,” Amber said off-handedly. I snapped.

“What cycle, Amber? What fucking cycle are you talking about?”

 I knew by the sudden stillness I had shaken her. She leaned toward me, her face red with fury. She hated when I cursed.

“You have no idea what you open yourself up to when you do that, Day. There are things out there that like your dirty mouth, you know that. They feed off of it,” Amber said angrily.

I recoiled. What the hell?

“Like vampires?” I asked snidely.

The sudden image made me smile. Amber didn’t seem amused.

“It’s not a joke, Day. You risk yourself more than you know by the way you talk and behave,” Amber insisted.

I was getting seriously disturbed. Ok, scratch that. I had been disturbed before the day had even started. Now I seemed to be suffering dementia. Twilight zone much?

“What fucked up planet did you visit and fly back from, Amber? I’m not an idiot, dammit!” I said irritably. Amber’s gaze pierced mine.

“You aren’t a normal girl, Day. And your behavior, no matter how tame it seems to you, matters here,” Amber said fiercely.

Cold chills ran up and down my body. She really did have me seriously freaked out. My feet and hands were numb from nerves. This day kept getting more out of control, more nonsensical. Amber retreated.

“Do you believe in Demons?” she asked suddenly.

I stared at her. What? The change in subject had me putting on the mental brakes. After all the theology we’d been fed the past seven years, I suppose it was normal to find ourselves sitting here having this conversation. But it was out of context. We weren’t being questioned by Aunt Ky and we weren’t at mass. Amber’s eyes burned into mine, as if the question was far more vital than the heartbeat I could now feel heavily in my own throat. I thought a moment.

“I suppose so."

Amber nodded. “They are with us, Dayton. Everywhere. Among us, even a part of us. And when tomorrow comes, you’ll know them well,” Amber droned on, her eyes darkening perceptibly.

What? Where had that come from? I moved away from the bed. Had I believed this scene felt normal? Forget B rated movie. This was worse. Was I crazy or was she? I pinched myself and winced. Oh, it was definitely her! My own sister was having some sort of mental breakdown. Demons? Rites of Passage? I was more confused than I had been when I walked into her room.

“Do you feel okay, Amber? You need me to call someone?” I asked, my feet moving slowly toward her closed bedroom door. I’d never feared my sister before. Tonight I did.

“The Abbey is more than a religious institution, Day. It’s a calling,” Amber quoted, her eyes glazed over as if she were repeating lines from a well-read script.

I almost fled then but didn’t. She was still my sister. Fear gripped my heart. What had they done to her?

“I don’t understand,” I whispered. Amber didn’t move.

“I think you do, Day. I just think you choose to ignore it. The Abbey isn’t normal. It isn't even Catholic. It's much older than that. Much,
much
older.  The people here aren't normal. Our descendants are old. They are glorious. You don't choose the Abbey. It chooses you. Everything about you. Even your classes at school. The Abbess chooses those. You’ll get tutors, Dayton. And like me, you’ll study philosophy, theology, out dated mathematics and science. We study history as if we were a part of it. And we are, Day. No doubt about it. You live here and you balk at us, make fun of us, curse. It’s blasphemy. Where do you think all of the women here come from?” Amber asked me with such hostility I shrunk into the door.

She looked over at me suddenly, noticed my fear, and shook herself. I was clutching the door handle, my knuckles white.

“Dayton—" she began, her face hollowed and disturbed. The real Amber, the Amber I knew, looked over at me, and I swallowed. She started to stand up, but I shook my head.

“You don’t understand, Dayton. It’s complicated,” she whispered. I had no sympathy.

“Then
un
-complicate it."

 She sighed and sat back. I relaxed enough to move back toward the bed.

“The Abbey is part of a Sethian Sect,” she said softly. Yet something else I wasn’t expecting to hear. I sat down hard at her feet.

“A what?”

 Now it was sects? She tapped the cover of her textbook.

“Think back on some of the theology we had to learn here, Day. Remember Genesis?” she asked me as I crinkled my nose in disbelief. Now, she was throwing religion at me. I just nodded. She took that to mean I understood.

“In the Bible
when Cain killed his brother Abel, Adam and Eve had a son that, in a sense, replaced Abel. They called him Seth. He is the line from which Jesus was born. Some believe it makes those descended from Seth special. They are warriors and Sons of God. The Abbey is made up of people, women, novices, and employees who can all trace their lineage back to Seth."

 She paused a moment, looking down at the history book in her lap before placing her hand reverently on the cover. I'd never really taken notice of her books before. This one looked old. Her gaze found mine again and she took a deep breath before continuing.

"Built by Morrison Jacobs when the French brought Roman Catholicism to our shores, the Abbey has been hiding here for a long, long time. And we aren't the only ones, Day. We have managed to build institutions in every state. In one form or another,” Amber explained.

I stared at her for a moment until what Amber was saying began to dawn on me, and my expression changed to one of horror.

“Omg! Is the Abbey a cult? Are we part of a cult?”

 The church here
had
always seemed strange. She placed a finger over my lips, and I quieted. A Sethian Sect? I’d never heard of such a thing! And did this mean . . .

“We are not a cult. We are an establishment dedicated to good, to pursuing good, to banishing evil, to fixing wrongs. We have a calling,” Amber said morosely, interrupting my thoughts completely.

I looked up at her disbelievingly.

“You’ve been brainwashed.”

“I’ve been called.”

“You’ve been led.”

“You think that, Dayton, because you are afraid.”

“Afraid of what, Amber?”

“Of being part of something. Of the truth,” Amber answered.

I looked away from her.

“This is messed up, Amber. You realize how crazy this sounds? It doesn’t make sense. So does this make us descendants of Seth? And if so, what do we do, us descendants of Seth? Do we smite someone if they shoplift, condemn those who curse?”

“Don’t be sarcastic, Day. We’re more than that. We protect.”

“Protect from what?

“From Demons,” Amber answered. My eyes widened. I
sooo
wasn’t expecting
that
answer. I wasn’t expecting any of this.

“This is bullshit!” I exploded before getting up and heading once again for the door.

“Is it, Day?” Amber asked as I made my exit. This time, I wasn’t listening.

“Day, you will change. We aren’t like the rest of them. They will use you,” Amber called out after me.

I wasn’t listening anymore. From just outside the door, I turned back to Amber, my mouth open for one final protest. It froze on my lips when I saw Amber’s expression. Her gaze settled on something behind my head, and I felt numb with sudden fear.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as pain suddenly radiated along my head, down into my spine and ended with my world going instantly black.

Chapter 13

The Rite won’t bring peace. It will bring destruction.

~Bezaliel~

Monroe once told me she believed that the world was a flow chart marked by lines of karma, that nothing was coincidence. She revered this. I, on the other hand, was beginning to have a rather differing opinion. Point blank, karma is a bitch. I know this because right now the only thing I wanted to do with karma was give it back to its Maker.

My vision blurred. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I was pretty sure I didn’t want to be here. My head hurt where I had been hit, and I fought the urge to rub it. Looking up, I squinted through the blurriness and grew stock still with terror. My blood went cold. A group of robed figures surrounded me, each one hooded so that their faces were nothing but pockets of shadow. The result was eerie. I closed my eyes.
No, no no no no
. Amber’s voice echoed through my head,
I’m sorry
. Sorry for what?

“She’s ready,” someone whispered, and I started to struggle.

What? I was
not
ready! Ready for what? Who were these people? Monroe’s vision came to mind—
figures, chain, blood
. Oh my God! One of the robed figures moved up beside me.  I moved my mouth, realized it still worked, and started to scream. Someone put a hand over my lips. I struggled harder and bit the hand. I barely registered the person’s muffled exclamation.

“I don’t want to do this!” I declared shakily, my legs kicking violently. Willful I did well. Agreeable, I was not.

“Keep her still,” someone hissed.

Through it all, the figure next to me never flinched, just looked calmly down at a thick, leather-bound black book and signed a page within it with a flourish as the group of robed men and women around us moved in closer. My head began to swim, the pounding behind my temples becoming unbearable.

“What you want and what has to be done are sometimes two entirely different things,” the figure murmured under her breath before removing her hood and turning to face the group now before her. Aunt Ky!

“It is done.”

Done
. It sounded so final. What was this? Aunt Ky?

“Congratulations, Dayton!” Several members of the group exclaimed heartily before pounding me on the back without glancing at my face. They all seemed full of jubilation, as if being here on the verge of my seventeenth birthday was
my
idea,
my
choice. No wonder they avoided my face.

“It’s time, Kyra,” a woman, Francine Biscoth, said quietly as she came up to stand behind my aunt.

I just stared at her. Francine was the Abbey’s secretary. She had never liked me much. How many people did I know here? Tears burned the back of my lids. What was Francine talking about? My aunt frowned but nodded. The group spread out around me, and I froze.
Time?

“Aunt Ky?” I whispered desperately just as one of the robed figures broke away from the group and moved toward us angrily, snatching off the hood of the robe with one swift movement.

“No! This isn’t fair!” my sister yelled vehemently as I stared at her in disbelief. Amber?

Fuzzy words about Sects and Demons flitted through my foggy brain, and I grasped at them. Amber? What was this? I didn’t want this? In just twenty-four hours, a lot of what I believed in, of who I thought I was, of who I believed my family to be had changed. And now I was being . . . what? Hazed?
Rites of passage
, Amber had said.

“Amber?” I whispered as she faced off against aunt Ky, her face red enough it was beginning to turn purple.

She ignored me. Our aunt looked calm as she stepped forward and laid a hand firmly on Amber’s shoulder. She clamped hard enough I realized it wasn’t meant to be consoling.

“Not now Amber. Don’t do this to yourself. I’ve made my choice,” Ky murmured, low enough that only those closest could hear.

I trembled. Even though I was well-clothed, I was freezing.
Choice?
What was happening to me?

“We need to go before the night is over,” Mott Jackson spoke sternly, his face coming into view as he made his way toward us.

As the Abbey’s accountant, he looked out of place dressed in the black robes surrounding me, his usual business suit nowhere in sight. His face was determined as he placed his hands on Amber’s arms, and Aunt Ky nodded at him as he dragged her back into formation. She didn’t protest although I thought I heard her whisper, "Please don’t do this to her." It made my blood freeze. The circle fanned out again, and I cowered.

“Tonight, our rites brought us Truth, and brought into our group the Chosen . . .” Kyra began, and my knees buckled.

These people sounded like cultists, not religious followers. I saw my aunts’ lips moving, but her voice faded as my ears began to roar. I felt something cold seep through my palms and realized rather belatedly that I was on my knees on the chilly, stone floor. I tried lifting my head and couldn’t.

“Aunt Ky?” I tried whispering again.

Blessed warmth touched my cold forehead, and I leaned into it.

“It’s ok, Day. Drink this,” Kyra murmured as she held a silver Chalice engraved with strange looking hunched figures up to my lips. I hesitated.

“Drink, Dayton. It will warm you,” Ky ordered, and I struggled to see the contents before she tilted it. Warm liquid ran unerringly down my throat, choking me as I swallowed convulsively. It was bitter and thick. I gagged. And then my back arched, and I groaned as pain shot through me. The only person I wanted right now wasn’t here, couldn’t save me. I wasn’t even sure why I thought of him.