The Believers (The Breeders Series - Book 2) (13 page)

She shrugs, her unconscious habit. “If I tell you, do you promise not to tell anyone?”

Goose bumps break out over my arms. “Tell me.”

She leans in until her face is nearly touching mine. “When you go, I want you to take me with you.”

I'm shocked. I open my mouth to question this and a door slides open. Andrew waits on the other side. He's frowning, already angry as a stepped-on scorpion when he sees us. The dread in my stomach expands like a cancer, like the baby eating my mother from the inside out.

“Come in,” he snaps.

Mage and I enter and the door shuts, taking the hallway light with it and leaving the dim candle light behind. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust. We bump through the antechamber and Andrew opens another door. Instantly, the overpowering smell of incense reaches my nose, making me feel lightheaded. We enter and again the door seals shut behind us. I stuff my trembling hands into fists at my side.
Mama,
I think.
Whatever it takes.

“Where's my darling daughter?” the Messiah says, turning. He's still dressed in his flowing off-white robe, his long hair unbound behind him. Mage presses herself into his arms. The hug is thin; the Messiah's face never changes as he embraces his only daughter. Mage pulls back, sheepish and shy. Her gray eyes are especially wide now, like a field mouse, taking in every movement. Maybe if I'm still, he won't notice me.

“Riley.” He rolls my name on his tongue like a delicacy.

I nod sharply, forgetting he probably can't see me. I cough the anxiety out of my throat. “Here. Here, sir.” My voice warbles. So much for showing no emotion.

Andrew starts tidying up the piles of paper on the Messiah's desk. He stacks the Messiah's strange documents, the little words cut from many books and glued onto the large parchment pages, crinkling delicately. How can a man with little to no sight left manage to manipulate paper like that?

Andrew breaks the silence, coming up behind the Messiah. “They’re here to ask you to save the girl's mother. I strongly advise against it.”

“Hey!” I shout before I realize what I'm doing. I drop my voice. “Why would you say that? She's dying.”

Andrew glares at me coldly. “People die. The medicine that would save her can help feed us for weeks. We're rationing as it is. I can't spare anything else to help a dus—”

“Silence,” the Messiah says calmly. He turns his head toward me. “The baby? It drains her, yes?”

“Yes.” The image of her sunken body appears before my eyes, making my knees weak.

“And we can stop it, yes?” he says, whirling toward Andrew.

Andrew's knuckles turn white as he grips the paper he's holding. “Yes,” he says slowly.

“Then we should do so.” The Messiah draws Mage to him with one arm.

Both Andrew and I stare open-mouthed. It was so easy. I thought after I turned down his offer to be converted he'd throw it in my face. I blow out a breath. “Thank y—”

“On one condition.” He leans toward me, one hand on Mage's blond curls.

Of course. I narrow my eyes. “What's the condition?”

He strokes Mage's hair. There's another large sore on the back of his hand, a wide red swatch of skin missing.

“You must join us.”

My heart's hammering again. It's the exact opposite of what every fiber in my being wants to do. “We don't have the Sight.”

He shrugs as if he doesn't believe me.

“What if we say no?”

“Then we cannot help you.” He turns his cloudy eyes away and stares off into the distance.

“Fine,” I say, nearly choking on the words.

We'll get my mama fixed and then get the hell out. What does it matter if I break my word to these freaks? The only person I'll miss is Mage and she'll be fine without us. I turn to go.

“One more thing,” he says.

I whirl around.

He's staring at me. Really staring at me as if his blind eyes could see through me into the depths of my heart. Does he know I plan on hitting the high trail the second she's well?

He lets Mage go and strides up. When he's a foot away, the smell that was disguised by the sickeningly sweet incense reaches me. The smell of rot, the same smell of the soiled T-shirt I found. As if some part of him is dying.

“You must allow Clay to join the Brotherhood. He will take the oath this evening. He will replace Stephen.” He narrows his clouded eyes. His lips, behind his tidy beard, tighten in anticipation.

A lead weight slowly circles my heart and begins squeezing. It means Clay drinking that water, Clay becoming whatever they are.

“I can't.” I step back, bumping into the wall. “That's too much to ask.”

“But he wants to join, yes?” the Messiah asks. His blind eyes somehow find me again, bore through me.

“No,” I say, clutching the wall.

The Messiah nods slowly. “He
wants
to join us.”

It can't be true. Clay doesn't want to be what they are. Sweat prickles on my skin and the urge to vomit returns. The incense is too sweet, and yet I still smell the rot coming off the Messiah, like meat left out in the sun.

I drop my head. “If he wants to join, I can't stop him. I'm not his master.”

The Messiah nods, folding his sore-covered hands. “And you will tell him you approve of the position? That you want him to join, yes?”

I raise my eyes and glare at the Messiah. “How can I? It's a damned lie.”

“Then your mother dies!” he shouts. It's terrifying, the echo reverberating around the tiny room. My head is spinning. I can't think. I have to get out.

“Okay!” I shout, burying my face in my hands. “Just save her.” Tears prick at my eyes, but I don't allow them. My body feels numb, dead.

“Good,” I hear the Messiah say. Then Mage's hand is in mine, leading me out. The incense smell falls away and the light from the hallway lets me know we're through. I open my eyes.

Mage still holds my hand. “It's okay. You did what you had to do.”

“That’s not true,” I manage. “All I've done is sacrifice one person I love for another.”

The crowd murmurs as they march Clay toward the carousel. His blue eyes scan the crowd for me, seeking reassurance. I have none to offer. For once I'm grateful for this crowd of surging, smelly bodies. Here I can hide my shame.

After I agreed, the Messiah sent word to have the Middies use whatever expensive drug they needed to slow the growth of the fetus and save my mother. But only after Clay swears allegiance and joins. I can't feel happy about saving my mother. All I can feel is shame.

I'm such a coward.

I look up now, unable to stop myself. There stands the boy I love in clothes I've never seen him wear before: a bold yellow shirt and pants, both so tight they show off his muscular arms and thighs. He's a duplicate, a member of their Brotherhood. The thought sends a spike through my heart. He's one of them now. Not one of us.

They stand in a line, arms taut, chins jutted. The other men’s eyes are locked forward, but Clay’s eyes rove around the crowd. I duck behind a woman with a huge head of curly black hair. I hide and hate myself. Hate every ounce of me.

The drums and the chanting are the same as the night Kemuel and Mordecai were named. No woman wails, though. At least not out loud. My cries are silent, but just as pained. The Messiah raises his arm and everyone goes silent. Above, a bird flutters into a nest high in the metal rafters. I let my eyes settle on it as the Messiah begins speaking.

The Messiah sweeps toward Clay, his arms outstretched, his gown fluttering back to his elbows. “Tonight we have gathered for the sacred purpose of inducting Clay Tate into the Brotherhood.” The Messiah fumbles a bit for Clay, but finds him and then wraps his large hands around Clay's shoulders. “This young man saved my daughter. He offered his life for one I hold dear. That night the Gods spoke to me, revealing that this man of courage would bring peace and stability back to our people. My heart is glad because I know Clay will do great works here, among the people.” At this the Messiah drops his head as if overwhelmed with emotion. I remember his stiff hug with Mage last night, the way his calculating eyes seemed to bore through me even in that dim light. It's all an act: the emotion, the fancy words and dress. He's like one of those people on Betsy's TV shows, acting. Manipulating. Those tears when Mage was in danger were probably fake too. And we're swearing an oath to him tonight.

He holds a silver bowl up to Clay. “I Name you, Clay, in the blood of the Gods: Jesus, Buddha, Mohamed, Yahweh, and countless others. With this holy baptism you are now a man of the Gods and part of our Brotherhood.”

The Messiah holds the bowl out and the water dances, its reflection lighting Clay's face. He shakes his head almost imperceptibly, but then he's reaching out, taking the bowl and lifting it to his lips.

Stop!
I think.
Don't drink it!

I say nothing. I'm lower than dust. I'm a slug who should be ground out of existence.

Clay swallows a big gulp of water. I watch, feeling like someone is slowly strangling me. The Messiah lifts the empty bowl over his head, smiling, displaying its empty contents for all to see. The crowd cheers.

A wretched, awful squealing cuts through the human voices. At first I worry it's coming from my own throat, but no. A few men drag in two hogs by ropes slung around their necks. The fat hogs lash their heads from side-to-side. Every heart-wrenching squeal reveals their long yellow teeth. Their hooves clatter on the concrete as they scramble to get away from the frenzied human crowd. The people chant and sway as the men drag the pigs to the front. I lift up on tiptoes to peer around the woman in front of me just in time to see a man with a knife step toward the hogs. He presses the blade under the animal's thick neck. I squeeze my eyes shut.

A squeal. A muffled thud. A cheer goes up from the crowd. The other pig is screaming bloody murder. A sickness lurches in my stomach. They take so much joy in killing. Why are they doing this?

I look up in time to see him slit the other pig's throat. Blood splatters on the floor and the second pig falls heavily on the concrete. Another cheer. Their bodies now rest in a large pool of blood. The stink of death clots the air. The people chant. I feel like throwing up. Then I see the Brotherhood step up with knives. I look away.

Finally, the tang of smoke fills the air and I look up. They've constructed a fire on the concrete next to the butchered hogs. They throw bloody legs and hunks of flesh on the fire and the smell of charred meat replaces the smell of smoke. The flames add a devilish glow to the crowd's frenzied faces. Clay stands near the front, his face frozen, his hands locked behind his back. He winces as they throw the pig's heads on the open flame. They aren't even going to eat the meat; they're letting it burn to ash. For their Gods.

With the stink of burnt animal thickening the air, the crowd begins to disperse. I turn to slink away, but then I see the Brotherhood stalking toward the dark hallway. The man in front begins fumbling with a gas lantern. Clay scans the crowd for me once more and then follows them.

I stop the girl with the wild black hair in front of me. “Where are they going?” I point at the Brotherhood.

She looks me up and down, frowning. “Down into the depths to finish the ceremony.” She swings away.

I step in front of her and she scowls. “What happens down there?” In my mind I hear the human moaning.

The girl shrugs, her gold earrings tinkling. “Don't know. Women aren't allowed, only the Brotherhood.” She steps around me and walks away.

The rest of the women and children have mostly cleared the food court. I watch as Clay steps into shadow and out of my line of sight. I can't let him go down there alone. What if they do something to him? Leave him down there or kill him? I've already given him to the wolves; I'll be damned if I'll let them feast.

I pretend to walk with the other women and then duck into the bathroom hallway. I wait several long minutes in the dark until the voices and footsteps subside. When the food court is silent except for the soft calls of birds up in the rafters, I peel out of the hallway. The open space feels haunted now. I stalk past the bloody mess and the charred pig bones. The pigs' screams echo in my head. The shops that once looked warm and inviting are eerily still. As I tiptoe past the carousel, horses sneer at me with flashing teeth and flared nostrils. Clutching my hands into fists, I stride forward toward the fissure.

In the darkness near the open mouth of the cavity, my courage evaporates. The smell is strong tonight: raw egg, rotting earth, and a chemical tang that makes my nose sting. The Brotherhood are gone, their lanterns too. How can I possibly enter the cave with no light? The first steep pitch will send me plummeting to my death.

An idea pierces my mind. The emergency lanterns they keep in the back of the food stations. During dish duty a cook pointed the little electric lantern out to me.
“If the power goes out, it’s pitch black back here,”
he’d said.
“Only use the lantern to get out into the light. We don’t have many batteries to replace them once they’re gone, so it’s only for emergencies.”

I run back to the food court and slip into the first food station I find. Fumbling in the dark, my hands find the back wall, the sink, and then the tiny emergency lantern. I pray the battery holds out as I thumb the switch. The bulb blinks to life.

I sprint back to the fissure and crouch at its lip. The light does nothing to cut the terror as I stare into the hole. In the silence, my heart drums in my ears. I picture Clay's face as he drank their holy water. God only knows what's happening down there, but he won't go through it alone. I take my first step onto the incline, the darkness swallowing me as I descend.

The sloping broken concrete makes for poor footing, but I get the hang of it after a few steps. Peering over the edge sends my stomach cart wheeling, so I focus on each step. I pass steel beams and half of a busted neon sign with wires curling out like thin bones. About halfway down, a smashed kiosk rests in pieces on its side.

The blackness seems to go on forever. I hold my breath and listen for any sound of the men. They'd be ahead of me, but how far? If they catch me, they'll… what? Attack me? Drag me back to my cell? What more can they do to me? I've already given them the man I love.