The Prophet's Daughter (17 page)

“Oh, come on,” she said with a roll of her eyes, waving her hand and disappearing into
the same archway Isaac had turned into. I shuffled along after her, gaze scouring every inch of the building. It was clean, immaculate really, and gorgeous – but it made me uncomfortable to stand in such a place that I knew acts of evil had, and would continue to be, committed in.

Inhaling, the delicious smell of food washed over me and my stomach growled, saliva dripping in my mouth. I had no control over myself, and drifted towards the scent. I had never smelled anything so amazing, so delicious.

“Well,” Kate snorted. “I’d say you’re hungry, even if you deny it.” She took a bite of the food in her hands, grinning. I looked at it, confused at the crumbling object.

“What’s that?” I asked, blinking as I tried to remember what it was she was holding in her ha
nds. However, I didn’t think I had ever seen it before. It was round and full of little brown dots.

“Chocolate chip cookie.” She took another bite, still wearing that smirk. “Delicious, right?”

“Never had it,” I admitted and glanced up at Kate, who had a horrified look across her face.

“What? You haven’t had a cookie before?” She frowned, grabbing my hand and placing one my palm.

“I’ve had cake, but no, never a cookie,” I said, eying the food item. “What is it?”

“Heaven,” she said, nodding. “Try it.”

“They aren’t
that
good,” Isaac pointed out as he stepped up behind her, a red plastic plate almost overflowing with food in his hands. “This is the good stuff.” He held it out to me, and I eyed it.

“What is it?” I questioned, poking at a small pile of green sli
me looking stuff. It jiggled at my touch. “Food isn’t supposed to jiggle.”

“That stuff is,” Kate said, fake gagging. “Jell-O, it’s some really nasty stuff if you ask me.”

“Lies,” Isaac said, picking a piece off of it and popping it in his mouth.

“Where did
you get all this stuff?” I continued, taking the plate in my hands. I had never had so much food on my plate at once – that was the one thing we never had a lot of; food. When I was little, I remembered a few nights full of crying because we hadn’t had anything to eat and my stomach had hurt. Mum had always hated those nights the most.

“We have people who go out and find stuff,” shrugged Kate, “or our cooks make it from scratch with whatever they can find. This stuff is rare, though – I mean, today is a sp
ecial day after all. Tomorrow, too, since the Prophet will want to wait. Or he’ll do it tonight at midnight.”

“Do what?” I asked, setting the food down on a table beside me, no longer feeling the sense of hunger that I’d been feeling moments before. My hea
rt pounded in my chest and my stomach felt as I had swallowed a stone.

“Ritual,” Isaac answered before Kate could, his face continuing to hold a frown. He hadn’t smiled in a while – I missed his smile, but it pleased me to see him so miserable. If only the
cost of his torment wasn’t going to be my own life.

“Joy,” I breathed, chewing on my lip as I stared at me feet. I had to do what Felicity had asked, I knew that well – but “how?” was the unanswered, frustrating question that rang in my head.

My stomach rumbled, but I wasn’t hungry and I knew that if I dared to swallow anything, I would vomit. I was struggling not to throw up as it was. Glancing at the food, I closed my eyes, a shiver running down my spine.

“Let’s just go and,” I paused; unsure
of what else it was we were going to do. “Meet the Prophet, I guess.”

“Can’t I eat first?” whined Kate, dangling a cookie in my face before taking a bite out of it.

“You’ve already had like, four of those, others might want some too,” Isaac said, poking at Kate and raising an eyebrow.

“And you already ate, too!” she stated and gave him a light shove. “She can wait five more minutes. After all, as she put it, she’s only going to her death.”

I stared at her, a fire burning in my stomach at her words. Fists clenching, I turned to Isaac, glowering at him and waiting to see if he had anything to say on the matter. Instead, he just raised a hand to me and grabbed my closed fist.

“Come on,” he murmured, dragging me over to one of the tables

– filled with food, of course. “Just sit and wait. She’s a b-”

“I can hear you.” Kate said, turning back towards the food and picking around it for something to eat. I glowered at her, but did the same with the plate at our table.

“Might as well eat something,” I sighed, begging my stomach to keep it down. I grabbed at a bowl, peering inside to see a bunch of small packets, all of them labeled ‘beef jerky.’ I pulled one out and pointed it at Isaac, grinning.

“Isn’t that what we had when we first met?” he asked, taking the pack
et and tearing it open.

“Yeah,” I said, picking it out of the package and taking a bite.

“Looks like it’ll be the last thing we’ll eat together, too.”

“Yeah,” he responded voice soft and eyes lowered, staring at the packet. “I guess so.”

We sat for another few minutes in silence as Kate chatted away to the others that came in and out of the kitchen, glancing at Isaac and I. Whispers arose with each person and I could feel their eyes on my back, watching me. I closed my eyes and buried my face in my hands, waiting for it to be over.

“Okay!” Kate said, stepping up behind us and rubbing her stomach. “I’m full.” She gave me a sharp poke in the side and I
jumped up, cringing at the odd and unpleasant feeling that coursed through my body.

“That wasn’t necessary,”
I spat, moving away from the table. I caught the gaze of a small child, who looked to be no more than four, and she ran off, giggling with excitement. No doubt to tell her parents, or friends, about the girl in the kitchen – the girl from the prophecy.

“T
oo bad,” Kate laughed with a shrug, spinning around and swaying with each step until she was halfway to the archway. “Everyone is waiting and you are taking a lifetime,” she said in a sing-song voice, pivoting to glance at us and walking backwards.

“Well?”
I sighed, turning my gaze to look at Isaac. His stare was focused on me, intense and full of frustration. He just nodded and stood up, silent and stepping beside me. He was making it hard for me to continue hating him now that I knew he didn’t, in fact, want me dead. Also, from what it seemed, being the one person out of the many that wasn’t begging for me to drop dead within the next few days at the hands of the man they followed with blind obedience.

“I’m sorry.” Isaac said, and he grabbed my hand. I mov
ed to pull away, but instead decided to allow it. He held on tight, his gaze forward and never seeming to look at me whenever I glanced his way. He continued to hold it as we exited the archway and pushed open the doorway leading to the inner area of the Chapel.

Gasping arose from the people around us, a greeting of shock rippling through the room. They hadn’t all believed that I had been found as they had been told – I could tell by the surprised expressions across the faces of the few people w
ho turned to see who was coming in. Their reactions caused the rest of the people sitting in the lines of pews to turn, some of them gasping, others cheering.

I stared at the red carpet that lead up to the altar, a table dressed with a white cloth sitting
behind a tall stand, where a man in black stood. Standing behind the table was a wooden crucifix sitting alone, along with two other poles standing a few feet on each side beside it.

This time, I was the one holding Isaac’s hand, clinging tight to
his hand, feeling the warmth of his hand in mind. I didn’t want to admit it, but I needed him at my side – even if I wished that I didn’t. I couldn’t do it alone.

The two of us walked down the carpet, both of our gazes fixed ahead on the black cloaked man
who stood silent, peering at us from under the hood. I couldn’t get a good look at his features, but he was tall and broad – that was all I could read from him.

As we approached, he pulled down his hood. Everyone sitting in the pews turned the moment he di
d, all moving to stand up. Their movement echoed throughout the well-lit room, and I was tempted to look around and observe the décor, but I remained with my gaze fixed upon the face of the man before me.

“Child,” breathed the man, his voice rough and some
what hoarse. His face was lined with few wrinkles, but his hair was snow white and brushed back, long and wispy. His face was lined with a thick, peppered gray beard, a small smile coming to his pale lips.

“Lovelock,” I responded, unable to keep the deep h
atred from my voice. Isaac squeezed my hand, a gasp rippling across the crowd at my words. Murmurs wisped through the crowd, only ceasing when he raised his hand.

“So you know who I am,” he sighed and brought his hands together. Blue gaze sweeping the crowd, he soon locked them on me, giving me a small nod. “How delightful, my dear.”

“Dear,” I snorted, glowering at Lovelock as Isaac and I stood, hands locked together, halfway down the aisle, in sight of all who sat in the room. A hand brushed mine and I glanced down, catching sight of a small child being whisked away by his mother as he stared at me with awe-stricken eyes.

“Isaac,” continued Lovelock, passing off my
rudeness like one would pass off a fly. “I have heard about your father. He is missed, I can assure you this, but it is only further evidence of what will happen when one goes against His word.” His gaze hovered on our hands for a moment before he returned it to Isaac’s.

“Yes, my Prophet. I do understand.” Isaac said, his words echoed by the crowd of people. Isaac bowed his head, glancing at me with sadness welling in his green gaze. I glanced around to see that everyone else had bowed their heads. I did no
t.

“Now,” began Lovelock, raising his hands again to silence the crowd. “Isaac, Child, come forward and follow me. I will show you to where you will be staying until we have prepared the ritual and the timing is right.”

Isaac took a step forwards, tugging on my hand. I remained rooted to the ground, staring up at my father, blinking. Isaac gave another tug, looking at me with confusion and desperation.

“Timing,” I began, ignoring the boy before me. “What do you mean?”

“All will be explained,” Lovelock said, stepping down from the podium and waving his hand, gesturing for the two of us to come forward. I took a hesitant step, my legs struggling to step towards him. A cocktail of emotions washed over me, most predominant of the mix being fear and anger. I was terrified and everything in me screamed to flee, but I also wanted to tear this man down.

“My mother,” I hissed. “Will you explain why she was killed, too?”

“She was against our cause,” he explained, his voice rather convincing as he spoke – he was telling the truth. Mum had been in the way, she had been against his cause. He spoke then in true honesty, the kind lacking in any of his pathetic lies. He frowned, however, and pulling his arms to his chest, clasping his fingers into a single fist. “She had to be removed, though it did bring me great sadness.”

“She was -” I began to argue, but Isaac squeezed my hand, pain shooting up my arm and causing me to cringe, closing my mouth. He shook his head, and took a step forward. This time, I nodded and followed clo
se behind, blinking and staring up at Lovelock, a burning hatred in my gaze. He just smiled, blue eyes twinkling with delight.

“Very much like your mother, my child.” He let out an airy laugh, shaking his head and turning away. The faint scent of lavender
drifted towards me as we approached him, but the scent only helped to fuel my anger.  “Come, come.”

“Yes sir,” Isaac said, touching my arm. I pulled away from him, jerking my head side to side, my gaze not leaving the swaying form of my father as he walke
d towards a wooden door. He took a key from around his neck and bent down, unlocked the room and pushed open the door.

“No one has touched this room in some time, aside from those who have kept it clean in waiting,” he sighed, taking a match candle from be
side the doorway and carrying it into the dark room, giving it minimal lighting. “It is just for you, my dear; a haven for you to remain until the time for the ritual has come.” He continued talking as he went further into the room, more light flooding from the open door as he fell silent.

I glanced at Isaac and he nodded, a sharp dip of his head, and motioned for me to go forward. I snatched hold of his arm, dragging him behind me as I entered the room, refusing to let go even as I felt him flinch, my nail
sinking into his flesh.

“Not so hard,” he grumbled, and I softened my grip, moving my hand down to his and holding tight to it. Like before, I knew I
couldn’t do it alone. My stomach ached, and I placed a hand over my mouth, exhaling a deep breath as nausea washed over me.

“Sorry,” I breathed, stepping into the room. I took a look at the pictures on the walls, watching as Lovelock pulled back the curtains that covered the windows, coughing as the settled dust was disturbed by his movement. He looked over a
t me, standing in the sunlight and opening his arms.

“Welcome home, my dear,” he said, clearing his throat and bringing his arms together at his hips. “I will organize a bath for you and arrange for some clean clothing. Tomorrow you will be fitted for your
dress, and in the eve we shall perform the ritual.”

“Fun,” I sighed, pivoting around to look at Isaac, who stared at me with an intense, sorrowful gaze.

“Isaac,” Lovelock began his voice light, “you will watch over my daughter while she remains here, yes?”

“I would be honored to, my Prophet.” Isaac answered in a robotic, monotone voice, dipping his head in acceptance. I struggled to bury my smile, turning back to face the cloaked man that was my father. It was hard to see him as such, but each time I reste
d my gaze upon him, I was reminded that this man – a monster – was my true father, if what I had been told was true, and the way he spoke to me was not just an act.

“Good,” Lovelock wheezed, wrinkling his nose. He shuffled towards us and placed his hand on
my shoulder, peering into my eyes. “You have grown to be very beautiful, my dear,” he said, before turning and swaying out of the room, closing the door behind him.

“You’re not going to see me naked, by the way,” I stated, stepping away from a blushing Is
aac, and looking around the room, taking it in. It was well decorated, with a large, green chair sitting in the corner and pictures hanging along the walls. Many of them were old and tattered paintings. A large bed sat in the center, pushed against the back wall between two windows. It resembled that of a stereotypical. fantasy princess bed, bright pink and clean, but missing the canopy that would have hung above it. It, instead, had wooden head and footboards – mahogany, from the looks of it. A bedside table sat with a small picture frame containing a small picture, but from where I stood I couldn’t make it out.

Tap, tap.
Soft knocking caused me to spin around. Isaac had position himself in the green chair, and was staring at the door. It creaked open and a small, white face peeked inside, glancing around the room. Brown gaze settling on me for a brief moment, a short young girl with broken glasses situated on her face came forward and stood in front of me, head bowed. In her arms she carried a myriad of colored fabrics.

“Your bath is ready,” she said in a soft, trembling voice. “Here are your towels and possible nightwear for you to sleep in.” She held them out to me, waiting for me to take them.

I looked at her, murmuring words of thanks as I took the offering into my arms. I was about to brush her off when I noticed the way she held herself. Fear was obvious in her stance, her gaze dancing every which way to avoid meeting me own.

“Are you alright?” I asked and tucked the clothing and towel
s under my arms.

“Yes ma’am,” she answered, somewhat louder than I expected. I couldn’t help but keep the look of surprise that crossed my face from showing. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” I said, offering her a small smile. “Will you show me to where my bath is?”

“After that, I want you to return here,” interrupted Isaac, standing up from the chair.

“Y-Yes,” stammered the girl, nodding at the both of us. “Follow me.” She turned around and scuttled forward, shuffling towards the door. I glanced back at Isaac, shooting him a questioning look.

“It’s fine,” he mouthed, “I just have a few questions.” He waved and motioned for me to leave. I turned around, noticing the girl had disappeared from sight. I started towards the door just as her head
popped back in to see if I was following. I followed close, pulling the door behind me until it clicked shut.

I trailed closely behind her, each footstep echoing down an empty corridor that was to the left of my bedroom, due north of the altar. I hadn’t noticed it before, the entra
nce a small arch way leading into the candlelight path, soft red carpet beneath cushioning my foot falls. It wasn’t long before we came to a room, the small girl pushing open a wooden door and holding it open for me. I stepped in and gasped.

“This place is
magnificent,” I breathed, looking around the area. A large tub, at least ten feet wide, sat in the center of the room – in the ground - with steaming water filled with bubbles, the walls lined with dozens of golden candle holders filled with candles of varying sizes and colors. The only windows in the room were very high up, at least twenty feet from the ground.

“The Prophet had it constructed a few years ago,” whispered the small girl, shuffling up behind me. “He uses it for baptisms most of the time, tho
ugh.”

“And it has running water?” I asked and turned to look at her, unable to contain my amazement.

“Yes,” she said and nodded her head. “This is where he does to baptisms so the waters have to be clean. He had a lot of people working on its construction and was very demanding that it had to have running, clean water – he didn’t want to baptize God’s children in dirty lake water.”

“Makes sense,” I said, stepping towards the large tub. She followed, walking ahead of me and pointing to an assortment of color
ed bottles.

“He has supplied you with soap and other cleansers,” she whispered. “You are very lucky.”

“Why is that?” I asked and bent down to pick up a green bottle that read ‘Green Apple Scented.’

“Because he would never be so kind to anyone else.” She lo
oked at me and added, “Only to you.”

“Well,” I said, raising my eyebrow. “I’m also going to die in the next few days.”

“Oh,” she murmured, glancing away. “I forgot. I’ll leave you to your bath.” She turned away and shuffled out the door, closing it behind her before I had even the chance to say another word.