White Heat (32 page)

 

Rachel was curled around Nate when he regained consciousness. She'd been holding her hands to the bullet wounds in his chest while trying to keep him warm. She couldn't let his body temperature drop, couldn't let him slip into shock.

“Hey,” he mumbled. “We home yet?”

“Not yet. But don't worry. I—I've got it all worked out,” she lied. She couldn't tell him the truth, couldn't admit that they were in a ten-by-ten-foot cell without so much as a blanket or a bowl of water. He'd know that meant they had no chance whatsoever.

“Sooner would be better…than later,” he breathed.

She kissed his neck, held him tighter. “You're never satisfied.”

He must've known she hadn't found a way out or anything that might help them, because he drifted off to sleep again without making any attempt to move.

Rachel lay in the tomblike silence, holding him with a desperation she'd never experienced before, listening to the water drip, wherever it was, and praying. Again.
She'd realized something about herself in the past few hours. She and God weren't enemies. Maybe her faith wasn't like her father's—but it was every bit as real.

R
achel was awakened by someone crying. At first she thought it was a dream or the echo of her own sobs. Had Nate died? Maybe so. She didn't see how he'd hung on this long. Maybe he'd died and she'd cried herself to sleep or been crying
in
her sleep.

But that couldn't be. Nate was in her arms, and he was still breathing. So who else was down here? And why hadn't whoever it was responded when she called out earlier?

Trying to slip away without disturbing Nate, she crawled to the edge of her cell. It was a woman. But which woman? Martha? Sarah? Courtney? Someone else?

“Who is it?” she called.

The crying stopped. Then an unsteady voice said, “Martha?”

Rachel could tell by the speaker's uncertainty that this was considered an unlikely guess.

“It's Rachel Mott.” She used her fake last name because she knew that was the only one anyone from Paradise would recognize.

“Rachel?”

“Yes.”

“You—you're locked up, too?”

“I'm in a cell with my husband. Who are you?”

“Sarah. I met you at the party, remember?”

Rachel grabbed the bars of her cell as if she could get closer. She wanted to see Sarah, wanted to find out what condition she was in. “Where's Martha?”

“I don't know.” Her voice broke. “I think they killed her. They were doing such awful things to her. I—I don't know how she could survive it. She wasn't moving when it was over. I saw her lying there, on the altar….” She sniffed, then cried some more. “There was blood.”

Rachel recalled that fragment she'd heard from Ethan when he was on the landing.
I could've gone on all night, especially when she started to beg. That's when I spread her legs and rammed that—
Wincing, she tried to block out those words and what they'd meant for Martha. “How long have you been down here?”

“I don't know. I just…I just woke up. They must've given me something. Wait, yes, I know they did.” She seemed to recover a bit. “I remember. After what they did, I was hysterical. Beside myself. Couldn't quit screaming or crying. Dominic gave me a shot. He said it would make me sleep. I think he felt sorry for me.”

“Not sorry enough to let you go.”

“No.”

“Did he rape you?”

“Not me.”

“Martha, then?”

“Yes. Him and the rest of them.”

Was that what she had to look forward to? Gang rape? And what did the Covenanters have in store for Nate?

“But Dominic wasn't as cruel as the others,” she added.

“That doesn't make him a friend.”

There was no response.

“What kind of shape are you in?” Rachel asked.

“I'm bruised and sore. That's all. And hungry.”

“What about Courtney?”

“I haven't seen her since I've been down here.”

“But you saw her before?”

“Not recently. She was in Paradise for a while. Probably longer than Ethan admitted to anyone who came here looking for her. But all I really know is that we accepted her, and then she was gone.”

Gone…and yet she hadn't shown up at home. What had Ethan done to her?

Suddenly, there were other noises. The creak of a door some distance away. Footsteps. Light reached the dark corners of the pit and, eventually, two men passed Rachel's cell, carrying a limp body. The shadows made it difficult to recognize anyone, but the men moved as if familiar with the pit and its cages, and Rachel could hear keys jingling.

“Martha!” Sarah cried.

Martha didn't respond, but Rachel hadn't expected her to. She was obviously unconscious. The men who'd brought her didn't speak, either. They laid her in a separate cell, closed the door with a clang and rattled it to make sure it was locked. Then they passed Rachel once again on their way out.

“Dominic? Dominic, wait!” Sarah called.

He didn't even pause. “I've done all I can for you, Sister Sarah.”

“What about Martha? Is she dead?”

“No.”

“Why'd you take her away?”

“She was hemorrhaging. But I got the bleeding stopped.” He sounded tired. “I did everything I could for her. Try to get some sleep.”

“Dominic?” Rachel called. She'd met him at the dinner she and Nate had attended in the Enlightenment Hall with all the Brethren.

He came to a halt. “What the— Is someone else down here?” As he and his companion walked up to the bars of her cell, she recognized the man who was with him, too. It was Joshua Cooley.

“My husband,” she said. “He—he's bleeding to death. Will you help him? Please? I'll do anything, anything at all.”

“I can't.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “It's almost morning. If Bart catches me interfering—”

“It's not as if you'd be letting him escape,” she argued. “You'd just be doing what doctors are trained to do, what they're supposed to do. You'd be saving his life.
Please.
”

He shook his head and would've left if Joshua hadn't stopped him. They murmured to each other. Then Dominic returned to her cell and, with a sigh, opened it with a key on the ring he carried.

Rachel wanted to fly at him the moment he opened the door. Her first impulse was to kick and claw her way to freedom. She didn't trust these men much more than she trusted Ethan or Bart. But she knew that if she didn't succeed in escaping—maybe even if she did—her actions would guarantee Nate's death. She'd told
them she'd do anything if they'd save him, and she meant it.

“Get back in the corner,” Joshua warned, and she scrambled to obey.

Dominic bent over Nate, obviously struggling to see his injuries.

“He's been shot in the chest,” she volunteered. “Twice.”

“Who did this?” Joshua asked.

She opened her mouth to reply, but Dominic beat her to it. “I'll give you three guesses.”

Joshua clicked his tongue. “Bart's out of control.”

They didn't ask her to confirm what they'd guessed or to explain how it had happened. They were in too great a hurry. Together, they dragged Nate from the cell. Rachel could hear them grunting, laboring to manage his weight. But they seemed to make it up the stairs.

After a few minutes, the light went off, a door opened and closed, and they were gone.

 

It was easy to tell that Ethan wasn't in a good mood.

Bart watched him eat the grapefruit Maxine had sectioned for him. He had to have half a grapefruit every morning, with sugar on top. He also had to have his favorite spoon to eat it with, the one with the jagged edge. It didn't matter that today was fast day for the rest of the compound. Ethan never went without. Unless he was tweaking. Meth killed his appetite.

“Look at her.” Ethan used his spoon to indicate Maxine's black eye as she brought his boiled egg to the table.

“I told you,” Bart said. “It got ugly.”

“He must've hit her hard.” Wearing a dark glower, he
finished the grapefruit and began squeezing the leftover juice onto his spoon.

“He's strong.”

Ethan gestured for Maxine to leave them. When she was in the kitchen, he said, “I can't believe they're cops.”

“They're—”

“I know, but cops all the same. I feel so betrayed, so angry, so—”

“We'll have the last laugh,” Bart cut in.

“How?” Ethan demanded. “Now we have another mess to clean up.”

“You liked last night's ceremony. We could have more. It might even be fun to use Nathan Mott—or whatever his name is—in a few.”

He didn't immediately catch on. “Which ones?”

“The
private
ones.”

This drew Ethan at least partially out of his black mood. “Now,
there's
an idea.”

“The sky's the limit.”

He ate his egg, which Maxine had already peeled. “I can't believe the gunfire didn't awaken me.”

So that was it. He was sulking that he'd missed all the action. “I preferred to let you sleep in safety, Holy One. What if you'd been hit by a stray bullet? He shot two of my men.”

“Flesh wounds, you said.”

“It could've been worse.”

“What will you tell their families?”

“That's been handled. I told them Rachel's abusive husband broke in to the Enlightenment Hall and they were injured fighting valiantly to protect the Vessel.”

“They must be proud.”

“They are.”

Ethan sniffed. “You're good at your job.”

Bart lowered his head. “I try to be.” Bart hadn't been this solicitous in several days. Since they'd become a couple, there'd been high points, but some discontent, too. It wasn't easy to redefine a relationship.

“So where do we go from here?” Ethan asked.

“Anywhere we want, Holy One. We have Martha, Sarah, Rachel and Nathan. All our known enemies are gathered in one safe spot. I don't understand why you're so upset.”

He seemed to consider this. “I don't understand, either. It just felt strange to wake up to such news, to feel so…out of the loop.”

“If I'm involved, you're not out of the loop. I always look after your interests.”

“And what are my interests when it comes to Rachel and her husband?”

“They have to disappear.”

“The Vessel can't disappear!” Ethan stabbed the air with his spoon to punctuate that sentence. “The whole church is looking forward to the mating ceremony I've promised them. What will it say about me if my own bride disappears? Everyone will assume she ran away, like Courtney. Or they'll wonder if I murdered her, and that'll make them rethink their beliefs about Courtney, too.”

“What if we hold the ceremony tonight?” Bart asked.

Ethan dropped his spoon and drummed his fingers on the table. The
ba-ba-bump
irritated Bart but he schooled his face to show no sign of it.

“It would make more sense than waiting,” Ethan said at length. “Consummation follows close behind the vows.”

“Exactly. So we do it now and get it over with. And if Nate survives the day, I say we make him watch. Maybe he isn't her husband, but he cares about her. He took two bullets trying to protect her.”

“What happens after the ceremony?”

“We finish him off when we're good and ready. And we lock her up in the pit so we can trot her out every now and then for special functions.”

Ethan stroked his freshly shaved chin. “What if she escapes?”

“Don't worry about that. I'll keep an eye on her.”

Ba-ba-bump. Ba-ba-bump.
Finally, Ethan smiled. “I like it. She can be our little show pony.”

“And tonight will be your first ride.”

He slapped the table. “Go tell the Guides.”

 

When Dominic and Joshua brought Nate back, Rachel was aware that they'd given him something for the pain. He wasn't conscious, but she was relieved to know his wounds had been cleaned and dressed.

“Did you get the bullet out?” she asked as she hovered at the back of the cell. Again, she didn't dare come too close to the door. They'd brought a third person this time, a man she didn't recognize, who carried a torch. She didn't have a chance against all three. She couldn't leave Nate, anyway.

“I did. And I gave him several pints of blood. He's a lucky man. One of those bullets went right past his heart.”

She thought of the hole beneath Nate's left shoulder
blade. Was that the one? “Thank you. Thank you for helping him.”

After putting Nate on the ground, Dominic straightened. “I don't know who you are, some housewife from Portal or Utah or someone else, but you signed your death warrant when you came here. I hope you know that.”

“You could let me go,” she said. “Let us both go.”

“And have you bring the police?” He shook his head. “No, thanks. I'm not going to prison. Not for you, not for anyone.”

“If you turn state's evidence, prison could be avoided.”

“You don't know that.”

“It's a possibility.”

He and Joshua headed for the door, where the third man was waiting. “I'm not willing to take that risk.”

“So why'd you save him?” she asked.

The door clanged shut with a finality that made Rachel want to cry. Dominic obviously didn't plan on answering, but Joshua did. “There's good in bad people, just as there's bad in good people,” he said.

She shook her head. “There's no good in Ethan.”

“There is when you compare him to Bart.”

“Brother Joshua?” Sarah had been standing at the bars of her cell, watching, waiting, ever since they'd arrived. “Will you let me out? Please?”

Ignoring her, he started to leave.

“Brother Joshua!” she yelled more loudly.

“Don't call me ‘Brother,'” he said over his shoulder. But then he grabbed Dominic's arm, and the three men conferred, heads bent and voices low. A second later,
Joshua walked back but he stopped at Rachel's cell, not Sarah's.

“What is it?” she asked, surprised.

“This won't be a good day for you. Do you want something—for the pain?”

Her breath seemed to be stuck in her throat. “What's going to happen to me?”

“The worst nightmare of your life.”

Icy tentacles of fear curled through Rachel's veins. But if Ethan had plans for her, they'd be taking her out of her cell. That meant she had to keep her wits about her, had to work out how to escape.

“Do you want it or not?” he asked when she didn't respond.

Her life depended on her ability to get away. So did Nate's. “No.”

 

Whatever Ethan had in store for her didn't take place right away. In an attempt to learn more about the Covenanters and to direct her mind from the fear, the worry, the darkness and her hunger, Rachel spent hours talking to Sarah. She also tried to get Martha to respond—without any success—and did all she could to keep Nate warm.