37. The Sinner
Chapter thirty-seven
The Sinner
Dinah
T he sun shines down, delivering its warmth, as I move forward onto the large stone balcony overlooking the angry crowd, with Sarah right behind me as my only support. I refused to allow the guys to join me and become visible targets for the mob, much to their protests, but I would not be swayed in my decision to keep them safe. The sound of the crowd’s angry cries was almost deafening from inside, but the moment they get a glimpse of me, a hush falls over the crowd. It’s unnerving and disturbing, to say the least. I feel so many sets of eyes on me that my skin crawls, and I have to force my hands to remain at my sides, so I don’t show them any weakness. They are assessing me, judging me, and most likely finding me lacking. I don’t blame them; if I was confronted with the image of me, I too would be far from impressed. The desire to turn around and go back inside, to wrap myself up in my men’s arms, and leave this place, is a living, breathing feeling under the surface of my skin. No part of me wants to be here, and no part of me wants to play this part.
Yet I know I can’t. I made a bargain for my nephew’s safety, and even if Abe, Zeke, Sammy, and I could fight our way out of this horrible place, Nael is too young and fragile. He’s already been through so much in his short life. I made an oath to my ancestors, to my brother in my heart, to protect him or die trying. This is my fate, regardless of my wishes, and my attempts to fight against it. This is the price I must pay, for being a woman who was ready to scorch the earth, for a small taste of revenge.
I refuse to cower at my destiny, and allow the Brotherhood of the Sacrament to win. I am not these people’s salvation. I am but a sinner, sent out to the lambs as a sacrifice. I lift my head and hold it high, straightening my shoulders, and stand before them unapologetically and unafraid. History will either paint me as a martyr and revolutionary, or a villain. Either way, it will be none of my business what future generations think of me; I will be long gone by then.
My eyes trail across the grounds, filled with crowds from all levels of our society and the class system. The ragged and the poor, the needy and the broken, mixed in with the wealthy, privileged, confused, and hopeful. There are so many women in my midst that, at first, it shocks me to see all their uncovered faces staring up at me, as I stand before the podium set up for me to speak. The silence deepens, even though there have to be thousands of bodies out here, all crammed tightly in the space, ready to hear the Unholy Ghost speak. I know this is being live streamed, and played by all the factions throughout the world. Sarah made sure I understood how important this was, and how powerful, or destructive, my reach would be.
I stand before the large microphones, and my lips open to speak, but no words escape. Instead, the dizzying tight feeling begins in my chest, and sweat prickles my flesh. Sarah moves closer, grasping my hand in her tight grip and squeezing my fingers. She meets my glance, her deep amber eyes confident and motherly. I have my doubts about her, about all of this. After everything that Sammy told me, and conversations with the guys, we think she’s neck deep in all of this subterfuge. Who she actually serves is up in the air, but Sammy is convinced it’s my father. I have my doubts about that, only due to how much she suffered in the past at his, Noah’s, and Peter’s hands. The three devil leaders of the Brotherhood, who had far too much unchecked power, and no mercy in their veins, they were true evil walking this earth.
Sarah releases her grip and steps back, allowing me once more to face the crowd head-on, but I feel her support behind me, and somehow, it reassures me, as if my mother’s presence might also be here, looking on silently at her daughter, who tried her best to complete her vow. Just two left alive who abused you, momma, then I can finally rest. As I’m about to speak, a shout sounds out loudly in the noiseless crowd, “ KILLER! HEATHEN! WHORE!” I don’t bother to dispute their accusations; I am all of those things, and perhaps even more. A woman’s angry voice shouts back, “SHE’S A SURVIVOR, A HERO!”
The crowd begins to grow restless, turning on each other in disagreement. I can’t allow this to turn into a riot. There are too many of them. They will overwhelm the mansion in minutes, regardless of how many rebels Sarah has hidden amongst the crowd, fully armed. I raise my hands in the air before me in a gesture of placating silence, and honestly, I don’t have the slightest expectation that any of them will listen to me, after all, who the fuck am I to tell them what to do? I have no real power. I am a token leader, a puppet to give them something to rally behind. When another bout of silence falls, and they stop pushing, I know this is probably my last chance to say anything, before they lose patience with me. “You are right, all of you. I am a whore, a heathen, and a killer; the Brotherhood of the Sacrament made me all those things. I am also a survivor of the Brotherhood’s abuse, just like all of you. I, too, was a prisoner, a tool used to push the Order’s agenda. I am a sacred woman filled with piety and sin, moved to violence by my need for vengeance against those who destroyed my life, and murdered my loved ones.”
My eyes move slowly over the crowd, connecting here and there with various glances, so that they can feel the sincerity of my emotions, over the overwhelming feeling pouring into me. “I was filled with the desire to cleanse the world around me, but also to destroy it. I am remade of the suffering of many souls that stain my hands red. I have taken many lives on my journey, and now I am here before you, but not to apologize for my actions. Those who sinned against me gave me no such words.” I meet the dark brown eyes of a pretty little blonde-haired girl, who can’t be more than twelve years old. A child that the Order wouldn’t hesitate to maltreat under its dictatorship. As a female, she has no power; she is at the mercy of all the males around her. I don’t want that life for her, for any of the females here, and throughout the world. We are not less than, and we have not been put on this earth only to be a man’s slave, waiting to be abused.
I take a deep breath and push on, breaking the connection with the child, but allowing her presence to strengthen my convictions further. “I am not standing here before you as the privileged princess of the Order, Dinah Camrose, or the Unholy Ghost, asking for your forgiveness, or even for your understanding. I am before you because, like so many of you, the Brotherhood took too much from me. So much that I had nothing left to give, and I could not take any more loss. I am standing before you, stained in blood right down to my dark soul, for my mother, and the vow I made to her, and all the other women like her, who were deceived into believing that they were creating a better world under the Order. I am standing before you for the next generation, for children like the ones here in the crowd, and my nephew, who still have a chance to make things right.”
I look back over my shoulder, and glimpse Zeke, Sammy, and Abe standing behind me at the opening of the balcony. They have various emotions across their faces, but the underlying one is love. They love me, all three of them. They support me fully, even if it means that we all go to our deaths together. I turn back to the crowd. Tears fill my eyes, and I swipe angrily away at them. “I am here before you, telling you that a reckoning is upon us. That the world cannot continue with this evil leading it. If we had all banded together, and fought back against the chains of oppression, we never would have been enslaved. We allowed them to take our lives, and do with them what they wished. They grew this empire on our backs, on our sweat, and on our blood. They have not suffered like I have, like you and your children have. You can choose to continue in this life, allow the Brotherhood to persist in treating you like brainless, helpless sheep, or you can take a stand. You can put a stop to the tyranny, and oppression of your daughters, sisters, mothers, and wives. You can decide, at this moment, not to cower like a beaten animal, and be a wolf that strikes back.”
“WE WILL ALL DIE! YOU CAN’T FIGHT THE ORDER!” Someone shouts from the crowd. Their words pull a slight smirk to my lips. “That is what they want you to believe. There are far fewer of them than there are of us.”
“WHO WILL LEAD US? YOU?”
“No, I am not here to be your leader, but a mere reminder of what you could be, of how to fight back. The Unholy Ghost does not seek power or gain. She, I , only ever sought revenge, and to cleanse the earth. There are leaders among you who have spent years helping from the shadows; those are who you should elect. You need a proper democracy and government. You need to pick people who actually care, and not for their own gain. People who seek to heal this society, and not rip it further apart. No one person should control another. That is not how we help the world heal.”
“WHAT IF WE CAN’T DEFEAT THEM?”
“You can and you will. Look to your left and to your right. Look behind you and in front of you. Those are your soldiers, those are your sisters and brothers. Their suffering is your suffering. Their need is your need. Rise together, and nothing will be able to stop you. We are all made up of different strengths and weaknesses, so harvest them without pride and fear, and we will weather the storms together.”
Arms begin ascending high in the crowd, fisted, all four fingers tight, and the thumb overlapping the remaining fingers. One after the other rises, until it becomes a sea of arms, with tight fists raised. I turn to Sarah with confusion. “What are they doing? What does this mean?” Tears fall one after the other down her cheeks, as a small, pained smile crosses her lips. She looks like she’s exhausted, and aged ten or more years just since we have been on the balcony. “They are honoring you, and showing you they are with you. It is the symbol of freedom, which the resistance uses.”
I turn back to the crowd with disbelief at what I am seeing. In the sea of people, every woman, man, and child, as far as I can see, has their fists raised. I turn to look at my men, and their fists are proudly raised in the air behind me. Sarah raises her fist next to me, beaming with a chuckle. “You may not want to be a leader, Dinah, but it seems fate might have other plans for you yet.”
The crowd begins to chant, and at first, I can’t make out what they are saying. Then, as it picks up momentum, it becomes clearer and more apparent, and they fist the air with their powerful voices raised. “UNHOLY GHOST! UNHOLY GHOST! UNHOLY GHOST!”
“I am honored, but I am not here to lead you. I am just one of you!” I try to shout above the crowd, but it’s no use; there is no way I can be heard. “DEATH TO THE brOTHERHOOD! DEATH TO THE ORDER OF THE SACRAMENT!”
A hush suddenly falls over all of them, and little cries of surprise rise here and there. At first, I have no idea what the hell they are looking at, but Sarah at my side doesn’t seem to be alarmed. Abe, Zeke, and Sammy quickly step onto the balcony, flanking us, tension radiating off of the three of them. Then I see the hands go up all over the crowd, pointing at the left side of the balcony at a stone wall. I turn my head, and my breath stutters in my throat. Holy fuck! Words appear, as if by magic, painted in blood red along the surface of the stone.
“See, little Dinah Camrose, that is how you start a revolution and burn the world down,” Sarah smirks and raises my fist into the air, to the cheers of the crowd. “We leave nothing to chance, little bonus daughter.”
Jesus fuck, what the hell have I done? I can’t lead these people. I don’t want to lead anyone. I just want to have a peaceful life with my men and my nephew. A boulder drops to the pit of my stomach, fuck, my father is somehow behind all of this.