Creed (11 page)

I braced my feet against the floor, hoping to gain some leverage.
My feet. They weren’t bound.
That knowledge coursed through me like a victory chant, and I dug my heels in to the cold tile and managed to lift all but my wrists off the chair. I winced through the pain and yanked harder. For all my efforts, the only thing I succeeded in doing was tipping over the chair.

Something—no,
someone
—caught me and gently eased the chair back upright.

“Shhh. Don’t pull against those. You’ll hurt yourself.”

Joseph’s voice was fuzzy, blending into the darkness somewhere beside me. I tried to zero in on his shadow, on the blurry image that was lingering around me, but I couldn’t. Again, too painful.

“You sick bastard!” I pulled at the zip-ties again, deepening the already raw depression that circled my wrists. “What did you do to me? Where’s Luke? Where’s Mike?”

My shrieks echoed off of the walls as the room slowly materialized around me. It was bare except for what looked like a beat-up table, another chair, and an enormous gold cross hanging dead-center on the far wall.

A hand clamped down over my mouth, and I yanked my head from side to side in a useless attempt to free myself. As his fingers dug into the sides of my cheeks, I fought back the wave of tears that were building.

“You’ve got to relax and calm down, Dee. If you don’t, he’ll hear you and come in,” Joseph soothed.

I wasn’t going to calm down, and I’d be damned if I was going to sit here quietly. I nodded slowly so that he’d ease his grip, then bit him hard enough to draw blood.

“Sweet mother of—” Joseph swore, bringing his hand to his mouth to nurse his wound.

“Let me go,” I begged. I was nauseated and could taste his blood in my mouth. On top of that, I couldn’t seem to shake the sensation that I was wet, dripping from somewhere on my left arm. My head slipped backward and my neck felt rubbery, dense, as I tried to right it again.

“Hold still, Dee. You need to stay calm and trust me here.”

Trust him? Was he kidding me?

“Why? What did you do to me?” My speech was slurred, each word becoming more and more difficult to force past my lips. Glancing down, I saw blood staining my forearms, trailing from the crook of my elbow onto the chair.

There were three cuts—none more than an inch long—on each arm. All oozing.

I stared at my right arm for a minute, hyper-focused on the muted sound of each drip as it hit the metal pan below. Then I lost it, covering myself with a fully digested round of stomach bile.

Joseph saw me heave and jerked out of the way.

There was a knife on the table, along with three murky glass jars containing what I assumed was my blood. In the back of my mind I knew what this was, knew this was how his mother had died. But that knowledge, no matter how heinous, couldn’t compete with the exhaustion sweeping over me.

My head swayed as I tried to force myself to stay upright. “I got to stay awake,” I mumbled, fearing that sleep was just the opportunity death needed. “Please, Joseph, don’t let me fall asleep.”

“You can sleep, Dee,” Joseph said, his hand brushing a damp strand of hair off my forehead. “I’ll be here watching you, and I promise I won’t let anything bad happen.”

He laid a damp cloth on the back of my neck, then wrung out another and gently wiped it across my face. He was cleaning me up. He’d tied me down, bled me, and now he was cleaning me up.

“Don’t do this, Joseph. Please, let me go.” My voice was a whisper, so soft that I wondered if I’d only spoken the words in my mind.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said as he slowly cleaned my wounds.

The sting of alcohol momentarily jarred me awake, and I flinched against his hand, trying to get him to leave me alone. It was useless; I was tied tighter than luggage to the top of a family car.

He let up on the alcohol and gently placed his hand over mine, calming me. “I won’t let my father hurt you either. I promise you, Dee. That’s why I’m here.”

“Where’s Luke? Where’s Mike?” I asked again.

“Safe,” he replied.

“Safe where?” If I could get an idea of where they were, then maybe I could get to them.

“Don’t worry. They aren’t here. They’re still on the outside.”

That was good. Somehow I knew that was good. I didn’t want to be in here alone, but if Luke and Mike were on the outside, then there was a chance they could go for help. All I had to do was say alive.

“Why did you do this, Joseph? I would’ve helped you. I would have convinced Luke to … ” I stopped and swallowed hard. The words were thicker now, almost impossible to formulate.

Joseph’s outline shuffled in and out of my vision, his movements twisting around in my mind as my eyes fluttered closed. His voice was soft, gentle against the horrible soundtrack of my own blood gathering in the bowl beneath me.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

I shook him off, the cold compress he was holding at the back of my neck falling to the floor. “Why? Tell me why.”

“I need to get Eden out of here. She doesn’t understand what my father has planned for her. She’s too young, too innocent to break free on her own.”

“We never said we wouldn’t help—”

“I know what you said.” Joseph cut me off. “I know I could’ve left with you and your friends. But it’s not me I’m afraid for; it’s Eden, and your friends made it clear they wouldn’t risk coming back into town to help me save her. But I bet they’ll come back for you.”

The tears I’d been fighting finally gave way. Joseph was right. Luke may not have been willing to risk our lives to save a stranger, but he’d absolutely give his life to save mine.

The soft echo of footsteps filtered down the hall. I counted to five, then listened again, hoping to God the sound was nothing more than fear pulsing through my veins. But it was still there. And getting louder. Getting closer.

“Close your eyes,” Joseph whispered.

I shook my head. I wanted to see Elijah Hawkins—this man Joseph was so afraid of—and then I wanted to tell him to go to hell.

“Please, Dee. He can’t know you’re awake yet or he’ll want to take over.”

Joseph grabbed the knife off the table and bent down in front of me. He looked at my arm before sliding one of the metal bowls forward. I tensed up, terrified that he was calculating which part of my arm to slice into next.

“Don’t,” I begged. I would’ve said anything, done anything he asked right then if he’d just let me go.

“I’m not doing this to hurt you. I’m doing this to keep you safe.”

Hurt me? He wasn’t going to
hurt
me? What kind of idiot did he take me for? The crisscross pattern of marks lining my arms were his doing. The metal pans filled with my blood were his doing. And the blade he held to my forearm was certainly all him.

“Close your eyes, Dee,” he said again, and I did everything in my power to open them wider, to stare at him with what little defiance and courage I could gather. If he was going to do this, then I wasn’t going to make it easy for him. He was going to have to look me in the eyes as he sliced me up.

I caught the slight tremor in his hand as he pushed the blade in. The pain didn’t bother me. It stung but nothing more. I could even handle the blackish red seeping from my arm. What did me in was the sound of my blood hitting the metal pan.

My world spun. The only thing anchoring me to the present was the earth-shattering sound of the dripping. I could hear Joseph speaking. It was as if he were calling me from the end of a tunnel, his voice warped and drawn out as he told me to let go.

I did as he said. I let go of everything and welcomed the darkness hovering around the edges of my mind.

FIFTEEN

I’d been moved. The soft quilt tucked around me and the smell of hot food told me that much. A quick scan of the room confirmed my suspicions. The cinderblock walls were gone, beige plaster boxing me in. Two plain beds without headboards sat side by side, and I was lying in one. The other was neatly made, with a white-and-gold quilt covering the sheets. There was a nightstand, two wooden chairs, and a pine dresser with some sort of big glass bowl sitting on top of it. Above me was a clock and a window. Full-sized. No bars. Just a plain old wooden window covered with lace curtains.

Slowly, I sat up, my eyes immediately trailing down my arms. Bandages covered my forearms from wrist to elbow. I pressed down on one gently, wincing as pain shot through me. The throbbing in my head had given way to a dull ache. It hurt, but at least I could think past it. Reaching up to the back of my head, I swept my hair aside and uncovered yet another bandage and an extremely tender section of scalp.

My mind raced back to the basement, to Joseph’s whispers, to the footsteps and the pinch in my arm that had sent my entire world reeling into darkness. I struggled through the haze, trying to remember how I got here, who’d carried me, and what route they took. But it was all a blur. One horrific, migraine-inducing blur.

I scooted back, pulling the quilt with me. A quick peek under the blankets let me know I was completely dressed. It didn’t mean anything, not when I’d been unconscious for God knows how long. But for some reason, that extra layer of cotton made me feel safer.

The door eased open and Joseph walked in, eying the bed before taking a seat across the room.

“Where am I?” I asked.

“In our reintegration facilities.”

I stared at him, trying to wrap my head around that word.
Reintegration.

He laughed, a familiar sound that did little to relax me. “Stop thinking so hard. It’s nothing more than a fancy name for the rooms behind the chapel.”

I gazed back at the window, honing in on the small metal bracket on the top of the frame. It was a standard latch, one that locked from the inside. I glanced at the door. No visible lock there at all. Nothing. Absolutely nothing preventing me from bolting.

As easy as it appeared, I doubted it’d be that simple.

Joseph saw my wandering eyes and guessed what I was thinking. “It’s not the locks you need to be worried about.”

I ignored his warning and got up to test my balance, half expecting to topple over from the blood loss. I didn’t, which meant I’d probably been out of it longer than I wanted to know.

I moved toward the door, and Joseph placed himself squarely between me and my escape route. “What I meant was that the door isn’t locked, but it would be a bad idea to try to walk out. Believe me, you won’t get more than five feet down that hall before he sees you.”

I looked up. No cameras, no blinking red lights, and no strange men peering in the window. Which meant whoever
he
was, he was waiting outside that door. S’okay, I’d deal with him too.

“Mm hmm,” I said as I did a quick sweep of the room for my shoes and socks. My bare feet were freezing, and if I had a prayer of escaping, I’d need them.

Joseph’s hand was on my shoulder in an instant, his eyes dark. Troubled. He pulled back quickly, like a man who’d touched a hot coal. “I’m serious. The only reason you’re conscious now is because I agreed to stay here and keep watch over you. He would’ve made me keep bleeding you if he’d had his way. I’m supposed to keep you from walking into the chapel or making contact with anyone else until I’ve had a chance to explain things to you. Until he can see for himself that you understand your new role here.” He maneuvered me back toward the bed. “Please, Dee, sit back down.”

I tried to yank myself free from his grip, but Joseph was every bit as strong as he looked. Maybe stronger. “So you’re the only reason I’m conscious?” I yelled. “That’s ironic, considering you’re the one that bled me in the first place!” I stumbled backward as he released his hold, then snatched my shoes and socks from beneath the bed and jammed my feet into them. “And explain what to me?”

“I don’t know …
things
. And I didn’t want it to be this way,” Joseph whispered, his attention darting nervously be-tween me and the door. “There wasn’t a choice.”

“Who are you trying to kid? You had a dozen other choices. Dozens! And you made the wrong one.”

“I made the only choice that would save my sister.”

“Whatever,” I said, completely uninterested in debating the morality of kidnapping. “Where are Luke and Mike?” I hoped they were in the next town by now, telling the police all about the Purity Springs and their community of deranged freaks.

Joseph’s voice was so low, so quiet I had to strain to make out his words. “I already told you, they’re not here.”

I racked my brain for any bit of useless information, anything that might help me get out or make contact with Luke. I knew what to do if the man with razors on his hands attacked me in my dreams. I could tell you which way to run if an awkward kid rose from the lake, fully grown and wearing a hockey mask. I was even prepared to get off the damn plane when seven random kids from some stupid French class went nuts over the fear of it crashing. But I had no idea what to do when faced with a self-proclaimed prophet and his entire batshit town.

The sound of a door opening and closing outside my room interrupted my thoughts, and Joseph shoved me toward the bed. “Take your shoes off and get back into bed,” he hissed. “Now!”