26. Lazarus
Lazarus
It was the understanding handed to me as I was cast out of the House of Apostles that I would never return.
At the time, I was hurt, younger, and confused by the idea of not being at the daily mass and joining in prayer.
Separation from the House was exactly what I’d been led to believe it would be: a grueling life lesson on the realities of the outside world.
Sin and evil lurked around any corner they could hide behind.
People who would hurt you and take advantage of you for no reason are everywhere.
On the dirt road that led away from the community, I left the only life I’d ever known.
Each stumbling step, taken at a sprint, leading away from that life cut like shards of glass.
But those weren’t the only wounds I left with that day.
I left bloody footprints in my wake from the missing mating mark.
Hungry and alone, I found people willing to take pity on me through God’s grace alone. They fed me, clothed me, and gave me a home. Night Wraiths MC quickly became a new family, a new community, and I was finally safe.
Every fiber of my being wants to stay away from the group of people who, rather than let me fall from grace, threw me off the path.
But now with dutiful loyalty to a new cause, a motorcycle engine rumbling beneath me, and a dedication to God forged through prayer, not pious acts, I follow the road — that once led home — back to the lion’s den.
One that I barely survived my exodus from the first time.
By the time pavement turns to gravel, the sun is at its highest point in the sky. It’s exactly as we planned it. When gravel turns to dirt, the trees have thickened. The forest is much more lush.
A prickling feeling crawls along my skin. While I cannot, metaphorically speaking, put my finger on the cause for alarm, I push my shadow ahead, sweltering under the sun, to grab the attention of the front rider in our group.
We come to a stop, engines falling quiet among the trees.
“Something is not right.” I search for the answer in the space around us, trying to explain the feeling.
Mayhem looks around, squinting into the trees. “Could it just be that the trees are bigger? It’s been a long time since you’ve been here, Laz.”
“No, that is to say yes, the trees are bigger.” It dawns on me slowly. “But we should have seen someone by now. There should have been at least someone coming or going along the road. They were always watching.”
“So, do we think they know we’re coming or what?” Revenant snaps, glaring at me from his bike.
“I do not know, but we should proceed with the utmost caution.” I look through the woods again, wishing I could see ahead to where we need to journey.
We ride at a more cautious pace the rest of the way along the wooded area, finally arriving at what should have been the locked and guarded front gate.
It stands unlocked and half open.
Up the driveway and around the center courtyard, it is evident that the compound is empty.
Long seconds of silence tick by as we listen to birds chirping and woodland animals making use of the daytime. We don’t have to say the words. The abandoned buildings do all the speaking for us. The quiet is haunting and chills me to the bone.
As I was ascending from a disciple to an apostle, there had been talks among the apostles of another property. Is that where they’ve gone?
Revenant is first to move. He throws his leg over his bike to dismount and steps away.
After shifting into his shadow’s smaller form, a rottweiler, he begins walking toward one of the buildings, nose to the ground.
Mayhem does the same, heading in another direction.
I abandon Techno, the club’s road captain and computer-literate member, and Salem, one of our club’s betas, with the bikes and head off toward the third closest building.
When I was last here, it was the dining hall, where we would come together as a congregation for the provided twice-daily meals.
I step through the door like I’d done a thousand times before.
It’s exactly as it was and yet entirely different.
The long tables, a little more worn than the last time I saw them, sit in a line down the center of the room, mismatched chairs dotting along either side.
In the back, the area with the kitchen is partitioned off, but there is no longer a door, only an empty doorframe.
Photos line the walls, but I don’t stop to look at the photos of the children, the omegas, the disciples, and the apostles.
I sweep past the bathrooms, only casually checking to see that they’re unoccupied.
The kitchen is empty, not a single can of food left behind.
But nothing is dusty or dirty; it would stand to reason they did not abandon this property long ago, which matches Honey’s timeline of arriving at Night Wraiths’ compound.
I exit through the back door of the dining hall to the next building.
I didn’t expect the dining hall to be locked.
But this building I know will be. It was always locked, regardless of whether there were occupants inside or not.
Omegas who were in their impure time, or those omegas who could benefit from quieting, would be brought here.
I hated this building and all it stood for.
I still do. But I have no doubt this is where Honey would have met Revenant’s sister, if it was her.
The apostles would have thoroughly believed that an omega as high spirited as I remember Iona being would need quieting and reflection.
I don’t try the door. I walk past it, along the side of the building, to a false power junction box. When I open it, a family of wasps who were trying to build their nest inside swarms out, but my shadow blocks them quickly before they can land a sting. I snatch the item I need from inside the box.
Despite the early spring day and slight chill to the air, the key feels warm in my hand.
The letters of the key brand are nearly all worn off from use.
It was a fresh key when I was here thirteen years ago.
When it was an honor to open and close that door for omegas.
An honor I witnessed become corrupted with power.
My objections were not strong enough to sway the others.
Absentmindedly I walk back to the door and find Revenant and Mayhem approaching as well.
“Any signs of life?” Revenant tries the door, and it doesn’t budge.
“Kitchen was barren. But they left behind furniture and pictures. I just got the key.” I offer the metal to our club leader.
Revenant takes it and practically slams the key into the lock, wrenching the door open to step inside.
His and Mayhem’s shadows charge ahead into the darkened building, but they wait for me to walk past them inside.
With steady steps and movements, I lead the way.
At the door immediately on the right, I note the first most disturbing change: the door has a hooked closure on the outside, which would prevent anyone inside from exiting.
The second is that the light switch is on the outside of the room.
I flip the hook from its eyelet and hesitate to grab the knob.
The whole building smells rancid with bodily fluids, notably urine and blood, and I don’t dare wonder what else.
God, have no mercy and do not save their souls if they left and abandoned someone here.
It’s wrong to pray for someone’s downfall, but it feels warranted and just.
I turn on the light to the first sequestering room, and after a twist of the knob, I push the door open.
It sticks at first, warped in its frame.
They used to have omega-sized beds, with a table and chair to eat at, a small dresser, and a nightstand to rest their tome on.
Yes, the windows had bars, but it was to keep the disciples from entering their sequestering room, or so they said.
This room is nothing like that.
There are no furnishings to mention.
A floor mat in the center of the room looks worn and lumpy.
The window is boarded over.
My jaw is clenched shut, and it prevents me from embracing a trait I’d rather not learn from Revenant. His use of profanity in detestable situations feels appropriate.
I open the next door and the next. Each of them bears the same pitiful furnishings.
Honey said she and Iona had been kept in the largest room at the end of the hall. As I approach it, a tightness in my chest mimics the strangling sensation of nervous shadows strung taut with anticipation. Each footstep is heavy, and at last we reach the door.
Flicking the lock free, I close my eyes in fear of what’s to come. Mayhem’s shadow turns on the light switch.
Inside is the remnants of a mattress that’s been torn apart.
The coil springs pulled from inside are untwisted as if they may have been turned into weapons.
Dried blood stains the fabric and made a mess of the floor, with impressions of two small barefoot prints and thick military-like boot prints left behind.
Stepping aside, I let Revenant and Mayhem inspect it.
They’re talking, but my ears are ringing, probably from how tight my jaw is clenched, or maybe it’s from my heart breaking. How could peaceful people have fallen so far? I know that truth though. Greed and corruption have no limits.
Needing air and space, I walk back out of the building and into the bright sunny day. Drawing a deep breath, I push the rancid smell of the sequestering rooms from my lungs. I cannot clear the atrocities from my mind as easily.
My mind races as I remember Honey’s recounting of her escape. She never mentioned a physical encounter and had no substantial wounds on her body. The blood must have been Iona’s. Did she die there? Or does it simply smell rancid from the neglect and abandonment? I’m left with one choice: find out.