One of Many (15 page)

“What about Anna? You fucked her with your fists.” My voice is as sharp as razor blades. But he's unaffected. He cuts with his voice, his fists, his words.

“Not as badly as I'll fuck her shortly. She will pay for interfering with my plan—with my new wife's need for discipline.”

No.
“Let us the fuck outta here.”

A long pause. I can hear him breathing. “No.”

“Do you think this will work? That we can disappear and no one will notice?”

“Get my wife ready for tonight.”

“You've got to be kidding. You're going to try to parade her for The Reckoning?”

He chuckles. “Yes. And you're the perfect leverage. Since she likes to spread her whore legs for you, you serving as the collateral will work perfectly. I was careful not to hurt her face, you know.”

I knew. I'd never stop knowing. He doesn't like evidence to show. He really slipped up with Anna.

“And Kiev?”

I don't speak. Can't. Sweat beads my upper lip, and my palms dampen with the primal need to pound him to death.

“Don't think about fucking her. Or the fucking I give her the next time will render her unable to have children.”

I back away from the door.

There will never be a next time.

Like a robot, I head down the steps.

Audrey sees my face and stands, her hands locked on the blanket underneath her throat. “Kiev,” she says, her voice frantic, her face lost, “what's going on?”

“What's going on is the cops don't know. And he still wants you to be at The Reckoning.”

Audrey steps away from me. “No!” she shakes her head violently. “I can't be near him!”

I jog to her and wrap her against me. “I'll take care of this. I will protect you.”

Her soft sobs slice me up. Shred whatever I had left of the coldness I harbored to keep me safe. To survive Weston.

Audrey is all that matters.

That, and escape.

Father Weston's ruination will come, but Audrey is mine to protect.

Audrey

I sit on a folded blanket, my body wrapped up in Kiev’s, unable to stop shivering. The warmth of Kiev’s skin goes through me but not enough to remove the chill that has permanently claimed my soul.

“It’s so dark in here,” I whisper, my teeth still clicking together. “But it’s in the afternoon. What happened to the windows?”

Light from the single candle flickers over his face. “They were boarded up years ago,” Kiev replies, his voice hollow.

“Can you get through?”

His hair moves like black water as he shakes his head. “It’s been a while since I tried, but I feel confident saying no. The wood is thick, and there are concrete blocks on the outside. Fucker Weston did his best to make this basement a prison.”

“He said it was a shelter.” I pull the itchy wool blanket around my shoulders and press against Kiev. He tightens his arms. “I’m stupid for believing him.”

“You were young. Anyone’s mind is impressionable at that age. When you’re lied to enough, you start to believe it. Trust me, even I feel for his bullshit more than once. You are smart for realizing the lies. I haven’t seen that happen yet.” He takes in a slow breath and rests his head on top of mine. “I’m not surprised he “chose” you. You're young, beautiful then—like you are now. I bet he set his plans to take you the first time he laid eyes on you. Fuck, he’s sick.” 

“Why is he doing this?”

“All of this? Because he’s mental.”

“Was he always like this? Did you always live here?” I can’t help the questions that pour from my mouth.

“We didn’t always live here, but yeah, he was always like this, but things got worse and worse then exploded when my mother disappeared.”

“You said she had sense, and that’s why she… she’s gone.”

He closes his eyes, the memory clearly painful. “Yes. My father is a sadistic bastard, but he can be as manipulative and charming as the best of them. My mother was young—no surprise there—and fell for everything. By the time she started to see Weston for what he really was, I was born. She had no job, no family in the States. Like everyone here, she was stuck.”

He shifts his weight, keeping his body against mine. “I was too little to remember exactly how this place got started, but I know he used fear. Come to this safe haven, survive the end of the world. It's a scam. Take everything, promise the world, and give
just
enough to keep ʼem hooked. Then he cheated on my mom with Ginny and got her pregnant, which doesn’t fit with the one, true prophet image he was using. That’s when he started the bullshit about Chosen Brides. And people bought it.” His body tenses. “They fucking bought it.”

“People pardon the most horrendous acts in the name of religion,” I say softly. “I was one of them.”

“Was,” he emphasizes. “You’re not anymore.”

“And your mom?” I ask.

“She put up with it for a while, plotting an escape. It took me a while to realize that running away wouldn’t solve everything. Dear ol’ dad would come looking, and without money and a place to stay, you can’t get far. Plus she had me. I remember the fighting. Her telling him how wrong it all was, that she wanted to go home to her parents in Canada. The next morning, she was gone. And no one spoke about her, no one questioned it. It was God’s way of getting rid of the nonbelievers. Fucking Weston used her disappearance to his advantage, driving in the fear even harder. Doubt him, and you might disappear.”

“I’m sorry, Kiev,” I say, resting my head against him. “I’m so sorry for all of this.”

“Don’t apologize for what he did, Audrey. And
I’m
sorry he…” Kiev lets out a breath. “I should have protected you.”

Silence falls between us, and all I feel is the steady beating of Kiev’s heart against my face, and the air gently whooshing in and out of his lungs.

“You left. You left and came back. If I got out of here, I’d never come back,” I admit.

“You
will
get out of here. And I came back for vengeance. I wanted to hurt my father like he hurt me. But now…”

“Now?”

“Now, I want to tear this place to the ground to save the others, especially my half siblings.”

“How many do you have?” I ask as my mind wanders away from me. If Father Weston was able to get me pregnant like the others, I would give birth to Kiev’s half brother or sister. I shiver, feeling nausea twist inside me. Thank God that's not possible.

“Ginny has three, a boy and two girls. Caroline has four boys and one girl. And Rachel’s been trying. But she’ll never bear the spawn of the devil.”

“Why aren’t they here, in the house? I know they’re in school, busy learning the ways of God in case one of them is to take over… no. That’s the lie I’ve been told, right?”

“Right. And they’re not here because Father Weston doesn’t want them here. They’re his children, but he doesn’t care. And Ginny and Caroline are too fucked in the head to care as well.”

“I could never leave my children like that,” I whisper. The thought of being a mother hasn’t really crossed my mind, but I know without a doubt it was something I couldn’t do.

“I don’t think normal mothers could leave them. But Ginny and Caroline…hah…you can’t say their names and the word normal in the same sentence. My father allows the children to stay for a few years, and then they start staying with the teachers. They’re better off there at least.”

“Is Anna okay?” Talking about the other wives suddenly reminds me of her stumbling back and hitting her head.

“Physically she’ll be okay. Mentally… she had a chance to save us from this hell. A chance to tell the cops exactly what was going on. And she didn’t take it.”

The blind loyalty Father Weston conjures scares me. I rest my head against Kiev, tears running down my face.

“You should eat,” he says and grabs the bag of food. “Keep up your strength and help you heal.”

I move my head up and down, my stomach so full of bile that anything I put in it will instantly vaporize. Still, I nibble on the cracker Kiev gives me.

“How long will he keep us down here?”

Kiev shrugs. “You’re going to The Reckoning tonight, so not that much longer. You’re going to be the star of the show, remember?”

The one saltine I ate threatens to come up. The last thing I want is to be paraded in front of everyone on Father Weston’s arm like some sort of prized possession.

I straighten.
Wait a minute…

“Everyone will be at The Reckoning tonight, won’t they?”

“They will.” Kiev's brows fold together. “Audrey, what are you thinking? Don't do anything dumb.”

“I already did.” I twist, looking at Kiev through the dim light. “If everyone is there, I can tell them the truth!”

“It’s not that easy,” he replies softly. “They won’t believe you. They believe Father Weston enough to give up everything. Those who might have the feeling something is wrong will overlook it.
Not
believing means they have nothing.”

My heart sinks. “You’re right.”

“That’s why I’ve been waiting to strike. The best way to take this place down is to have it ripped out from under my father’s feet. We need to get the cops back here, because the only way Weston is leaving is in handcuffs or a body bag.”

“There has to be another way.”

“If there were, I’d have already found it. The only thing more dangerous than the shepherd is an angry flock. He can get them to tear you to shreds without lifting a finger.”

Tears threaten to fall. Some of the feeling is coming back to my body, and I hurt.

Bad.

The unmistakable sound of a dead bolt shooting back cuts through the dark, making me jump.

“Audrey,” Ginny calls. “Come here.”

In a flash, Kiev is on his feet, charging up the stairs.

“Not so fast,” she says. “Do I need to remind you who taught you how to shoot?”

I watch in horror as Kiev’s shadowed body paces backward down the stairs.

“Oh, Audrey,” Ginny calls in a singsong voice. My skin crawls. She’s as bad as Weston. “Come here, dear.”

Kiev’s head falls, looking defeated, no match against a gun pointed at him.

He’s no good protecting me if he’s dead. I try to get up and falter, pain pouring through every inch of me. I’m torn up from Father Weston forcing himself on me, in me. Dried blood cakes to my thighs, pulling at my skin as I struggle to my feet.

Kiev takes my hands and helps, leaning in to kiss me. Our lips meet, and I find strength.
I have to do this
. I have to get through tonight, through The Reckoning, however false it is.

Then we can get the hell out of here and take Father Weston down.

*

“Here, honey,” Ginny says, taking a cup off the counter. I’m still naked, still shivering and cold. I feel exposed—so
violated
. “Drink this and you’ll feel all better.”

A pistol is in her other hand, held casually at her side. I don’t know anything about guns, only what I’ve seen in movies or read in books. The gun she has is small, but the opening on the barrel is big.

That means big bullets, and big bullets mean big damage.

I pull the dusty wool blanket around me like a cloak and take the tea. It’s Earl Grey, the usual brew made by Ginny, but it has a chalky appearance. I don’t have to taste it to know she put something in it.

“Drink up,” she says and taps the gun with her index finger. The gesture is subtle but enough to remind me that it’s there, ready to use. And not to be used on me but on Kiev. She pointed the gun at him as I made my way up the stairs and locked the door behind me as soon as my feet hit the first floor.

I put the cup to my lips, hating how the warm liquid feels heavenly against my frozen lips. Too much sugar has been added, no doubt to cover up whatever pill she slipped in the drink. I sip it slowly, trying to buy time. What I do with that time… I haven’t decided yet.

Ginny leans against the counter, watching me stand in the middle of the kitchen, trembling as I down my drugged beverage. Once the cup is empty, she throws it in the sink, shattering the porcelain.

“Upstairs.”

I flit my eyes to the gun in her hands. I turn and walk, each step painful. I double over from hurt when I lift my leg to ascend the stairs. Ginny shoves the butt of the gun into my back. I fall forward and cry out.

Tears blur my vision as I crawl up the steps.

“The other way,” Ginny orders when I turn to go into my room. We go the opposite direction, toward Father Weston’s room.

His door is open.

As soon as we walk past, I know it was left open on purpose. Anna is bent over the bed, naked, with Father Weston behind her.

I remember what Kiev said about his father making him watch, and that cracker threatens to come up again.

I look down, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. Before I can avert my gaze completely, Anna looks at me, her expression one of remorse.

You had the chance to stop this,
I want to yell at her. Tell Anna she’s stupid and deserves everything she’s getting because she had a chance and didn’t take it.

Then I notice the red marks on her neck.

Nothing I can do about it now. I stare at the floor, my wool blanket tight around my shoulders, and keep marching forward, entering a room I’ve yet to go in.

It’s decorated similar to mine, in soft earth tones with fancy furniture and plush bedding. There are pictures of children on the dresser; two girls and one boy.

This is Ginny’s room.

I always assumed she shared a room with Father Weston.

She guides me to a large bathroom, and terror cripples me when I see a full bathtub waiting.

“No, please, not again!” I beg, my stomach clenching. I’m still cold. I won’t survive another dip in icy water.

“Get in,” she says and gives me a push.

The wool blanket drops to the ground, and I reach forward, feeling the water. It’s warm.

Physically, I crave the heat. I
need
it. I slip my fingers below the surface, and I long to get in, feeling the warmth return to my body.

It’s agony to lift my leg and climb in the tub. I sink deep into the water, feeling fuzzy from whatever Ginny made me drink. She’s standing above me, inspecting my body.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty,” she says and kneels down beside the large tub. My ears ring, and my eyes want to close. “There was a time I had a tight little body like this.” She plunges her hands into the soapy water, grabbing a washcloth.

“But time and children haven’t been kind to my body.”

She begins washing me, and I struggle to stay awake. I don’t want to pass out in the tub and drown. She pours water over my head and washes my hair. My eyes flutter shut, and my head falls to the side.

I can’t move my arms or legs. Ginny says something else, but her voice sounds muffled, and I can’t make it out. I feel my body slipping down, and my eyes close. I’m not sure if I’m underwater or unconscious.