Chapter 23 Daylan
twenty-three
Daylan
Arn sighs, leaning back on the chair as it creaks beneath him.
I still cannot believe he is here, and that he is the one that helped Lazarus escape.
Arn is Father’s favorite and as I watch him, all I can see is the odd touch Father gave him the night I was taken.
The lingering looks between them and the weird things that filtered through the silence between them.
I do not trust him as easily as Lazarus does, for the Arn I know only exists to do Father’s bidding.
Still, I will listen because I worry for Bright Haven.
“For the record, I was sent out looking for you every day for the first two weeks after you were taken,” Arn says, turning to me. “The community misses you and needs its Lamb. Maybe now more than ever, but they believe you dead because Father told them you are.”
“You thought I was dead too.”
“Yeah, well, I assumed Lazarus would have killed you by now.”
“Do you want me dead?” I ask, discomfort rolling through me.
“Nah,” Arn says, shaking his head. “You never did me any harm, Lamb. I’m not the one in this cabin who wants to tear everything apart with his own bare hands.”
I turn and look at Lazarus, who sighs and shrugs. “I was angry. I’m still angry. What is Father doing to Bright Haven?”
“Every night we are called to the longhouse to listen to him ramble and rant about needing a Lamb. Men are sent out into the towns to search for a pureblooded human of any gender. Traders must spill drops of blood on a cloth before they are allowed entry, and he plays it off as if it is for safety, but everyone knows what he is looking for.”
“A new Lamb.”
Arn nods. “He has lost all sense, Laz. It’s a scary time at Bright Haven.
The damned outside the fences have grown in number, and there is no longer any cleansing or mercy.
Instead, those he deems to have sinned are made to linger beyond the fences regardless of their fate beneath the rains.
We’ve had two storms, and the pile of dead between the fences is huge.
Corpses sit in the grass, rotting away as those who have been turned gnaw upon their flesh. It’s disgusting.”
“Why does he do this?” I ask, blood running cold at the very thought of those who are offered mercy being torn apart by those who have not. “He is the one who taught me about mercy and cleansing. It is a promise from God.”
“He lied to you, Lamb. The rain is and always has been a weapon to him,” Arn corrects. “A tool he uses to dispose of those he wants rid of, and now a way to find his new Blessed Lamb. All who are unworthy in his eyes die, and he doesn’t give a single shit.”
“What about mercy?”
“There is no mercy. Just Father and his fucked up control issues. From the first moment he failed to punish Ezekiel for his sins, he’s been on a dark path that now pulls Bright Haven down with it.”
I think back to the last cleansing I prayed over and the loss of Herold and Angelo that came from it. I don’t know Herold’s sins that led him to the fence, but I was there to witness Angelos. “Did you untie Herold?”
“Sadly, I can’t claim that one,” Arn says.
“That was Timothy, under Father’s direction.
Angelo was never his favorite. He always spoke when he should have shut the fuck up, and he paid for it in the end.
I could have stepped in, but when I saw Timothy untying the knot, I just let it happen. Some people need to be dead.”
“Good riddance,” Lazarus mumbles. “The only sadness in me about his death is that I didn’t get to do it myself.”
“I could have saved him then,” I whisper, glaring at Arn. “You stopped me.”
“Some people need to be dead,” Arn repeats, looking right at me with certainty in his expression. “Angelo and Timothy needed to die.”
“You cannot decide that.”
“But I did anyway,” he says. “Lazarus was coming for him, so it made little difference in the end that Angelo died in the cleansing. Then it was just a matter of getting Timothy alone so Lazarus could sneak in and take his life away, and he basically handed himself over on a silver platter.”
“You have been pulling strings this whole time,” I comment, stunned as I scan through my memories of him at the compound.
There is one of Arn, holding me back from saving Angelo.
Arn, running to tell Father the news of the fire in the toolshed and later leaving Timothy in the sinner’s hut alone.
There is Arn, distracting Father with the horror of his death as Lazarus snuck into my bedroom to take me.
“I am smarter than people give me credit for,” he murmurs softly and almost sad.
“You are,” Lazarus agrees, speaking with conviction. “I wouldn’t be here if not for you, my friend.”
“You called him a piece of shit.”
Arn snorts a laugh, and Lazarus grins. “He is kind of a piece of shit, but he is useful. I also said that.”
“The Lamb swears,” Arn laughs, shaking his head. “I never thought I’d see the day.”
He and Lazarus laugh as I shrug, my head aching as it fills with new knowledge.
It was already filled with Lazarus’ truth about Ezekiel and I feel like it’s about to split open wide with these new things from Arn.
It’s too much and I lay back on the mattress, pulling my legs up to my chest and curling into myself as I roll onto my side, away from both of them.
Lazarus rests his hand on my side as he and Arn keep talking about Bright Haven, but I drift into my mind, trying to put pieces in proper places as everything crumbles inside me.
Their voices become distant as I close my eyes, tears prickling at the backs of my eyelids as I consider all I now know.
I linger, half listening, until my name is mentioned, causing my attention to pop back to the two other people in this cabin.
“What is he to you?” Arn asks.
“Daylan is mine,” Lazarus says. “He is my Lamb. Father cannot have him back. I will kill him if he tries to take him.”
“Do I not get a say?” Lazarus and Arn go quiet, and I clear my throat, opening my eyes. “I still do not think Father should die.”
“He must pay for his sins,” Lazarus sighs. “For what he did to me and to you. For the marks you bear.”
“And did he sin against you, Arn? His favorite Elder?”
Arn swallows hard, blowing a deep breath out of his lungs.
“You know what was done to Lazarus, right?” I nod, sitting up again and meeting Arn’s eyes with mine.
He offers a nervous smile, then looks away from me before opening his mouth again.
“I was Ezekiel’s first, but I grew quickly and he lost interest in me fast. When I heard he had done the same to Lazarus and that Lazarus was blamed for it, I lost all faith in Father.
What kind of leader would sit by and let his flock be abused like that?
Nah, that’s fucking wrong. I had to set Lazarus free.
He didn’t deserve to die for ridding Bright Haven of a monster like Ezekiel. ”
I am stunned where I sit, hearing decades of lies unravel at my very feet. Arn offers a small, sad smile, and Lazarus wraps his arm around me, but I don’t feel comforted. There has been too much horror to feel anything but cold and numb.
“I need allies,” Arn says, turning back to Lazarus. “I know what must be done, but there will be scared people who will try to stop me.”
“What is your plan?” Lazarus asks. “I can sneak through the fence and kill Father.”
I tense, but Arn shakes his head. “That will not work. You will make him a martyr, and someone else will step into his place to tighten the reins on the community. Already I have heard rumors of men unwilling to sit by idly while his mad search for a new Lamb continues. They are scared, but their fear will create a bigger monster in the end.”
“What happens to sinners of Bright Haven?” I ask, the answer to the question of how to dethrone Father coming to me.
“They are sent for cleansing,” Arn replies with a nod and a smile, like he already understands what I am about to say.
“Then Father must be cleansed and seek mercy from God. That is the only way it can be done. He must confess and repent in front of Bright Haven so they can see him for what he truly is and know that if he falls, it is not the devil taking him away. It is God refusing mercy to a wicked soul.”
“If he doesn’t turn, the damned that wander between the fences will eat him. There are no ropes on them; things are not done that way in Bright Haven anymore,” Arn says, caution in his tone.
I inhale a slow breath, nodding, for I understand this. “Then they feast, and Father will die in the wickedness he has created with his own two hands.”