Chapter 33
Grace
Ihear the lock unlatch and the wooden door swing open. Fuck, the man in the corner. I panic, and it takes everything in me not to stand up and run.
“Bones, why was the door locked?” I hear the slimy voice of Priest Brown inquire.
Professor Blackthorne replies smoothly, “Your deacon tried to make a fast move on me. I was setting up for the ritual, laying more candles and symbols to strengthen the double offering for this evening, when he came up behind me. He tried to choke me out, but I managed to stop him. He’s over there now, unconscious.
I figured you would want to be the one to handle him. ”
The air prickles in the momentary silence when Priest Brown finally responds, “My, my. Thank you, Bones. Perhaps we should reevaluate who will remain my deacon come next ritual. Due to his…apparent inability to perform, would you graciously offer your services? Consider it your application.”
Silence spreads through the room, and my anxiety courses through my blood. I can feel the tension in the room. Say something, Professor. Say anything, just say something.
He clears his throat. “Are you sure? I’m not sure I’m the best—”
“I insist,” Priest Brown interrupts him with a harsh bite in his tone.
I hear an inhale and a soft, “As you wish.”
I suddenly hear more feet shuffle into the room. Individuals pass by me, and soft chanting continues as I try to decipher the words they’re saying until I realize they’re not speaking English.
I hear countless footsteps pass by me. How many people are in this room? I’m so fucked. The shuffling of their cloaks on the stone floor blends with their soft chants until it becomes unbearable. It takes every ounce of willpower not to cover my ears.
The words and the feeling of so many eyes are making me feel like my skin is crawling. My fight or flight urges me to do something, anything.
The room suddenly drops into an eerie silence, and I start to wonder if everyone has vanished.
“My disciples,” Priest Brown’s voice echoes into the room, and I cringe at his address. “We are most blessed this evening in our dedications. Before us are two souls of sin who bear the weight of the Devil.”
The crowd starts to murmur in distaste, and a few shout aggressively in response. I shift uncomfortably. I wish I could at least see. I feel like I can’t breathe. There are too many people. There’s no way out.
“The Lord has spoken to me and has commanded a double sacrifice in His name. Our community has been cleansed for months, and He is most grateful for our efforts. But, sin still seeps through.” The crowd murmurs of no mercy.
“We must spill the blood of sin in the name of God. Let the blood flow like His on the cross, for the ultimate sacrifice He made.”
He starts comparing the acts, and my stomach fills with pure distaste.
God would never approve of this, let alone ask for this.
I might not be His or Her best example, but I’ve read that Bible more times than I can count, and I know that God would not ask for blood to be spilled in His or Her name in such a horrific way.
I refuse to believe that. I know this is a demon, but being in a room with so many people blindly following a man in power breaks my heart.
In the name of their devotion to Christ, they’ve willingly followed a demon.
I feel a sudden stroke of coolness on my arm, and my body recognizes the sensation instantly.
Milly. My stomach flips in guilt at the worry that I know she must be feeling.
I swallow my emotions, thinking of how angry she might be.
I hope she can forgive me. I worry my bottom lip between my teeth as the regret continues to eat me alive.
It’s almost like she hears my thoughts, because the stroke turns into a more physical touch of affection on my shoulder.
Suddenly, the bag over my head is ripped off, and I find myself blinking once again, trying to adjust to the light of the room.
The overhead lights are now off, with rows and rows of candles lit, casting a warm, gloomy glow throughout the entire room.
Shadows are in every corner, on every person, darkening the atmosphere by the minute.
“Grace Gates, do you repent your sins?” Priest Brown asks in front of me. His face is covered by a mask that is completely void of reflection. It’s a black mask of a demonic face, complete with sharp features that elongate the cheekbones and the jawline.
These people are fucking stupid.
On top of the mask are long horns that twist up at least a foot like an antelope.
I swallow at the intimidation of it and lean back into the chair as he stares into my eyes.
His cape is black with golden trimming, covering his entire body behind his antlers.
Around his neck is a gaudy, golden necklace.
There is a giant crucifix covered in rubies hanging from his neck; the rubies mimic blood dripping from the gold.
They really thought this man was serving God?
I bring my eyes back up to the mask, and I know behind it, Priest Brown is grinning his slimy grin.
I shiver as unease shatters across me, but Milly’s hand returns as an invisible but solid touch of comfort.
I exhale. “No, Priest Brown. I do not repent of the sins you accuse me of. Loving someone is not a sin, regardless of gender. I do not believe the God we all worship is one who condemns based on men’s interpretations.
” I lift my chin, clenching my jaw as I find courage, glaring at his pathetic being.
He hovers over me before standing at his full height.
“We will not let this mindset contaminate the community. Through the actions of this ritual, we purify the minds of those around us. We prevent the potential damnation of others as we follow the true word of God. He has spoken.” He spins around and approaches the body that is lying on a table across from me.
My stomach flips at the thought that this is who I think it is. He flips the blanket over, and I immediately close my eyes tightly, fighting the urge to vomit.
I feel my eyes fill with tears, and my heart begins to race. I start to stand up, desperate to get as far away as possible, when cool hands land on my shoulders and push me back into the chair.
Milly closes the clasps over my wrists without locking them, momentarily appearing in front of me. I feel a poke on my nose and open them slightly, seeing her floating in front of me. Her face radiates confidence, her eyes full of love and fear.
She mouths, “Stay brave,” before promptly disappearing again.
“Jocelyn Brown, do you repent of your sins?” he says with a harsher tone, and my heart clenches at the thought of that man ever being a father.
In that moment, I feel pity for the girl.
I glance back over and see her trying to speak, but her body is too weak from the burns that are scattered across her body.
A tear falls from her eyes, and she mouths, ‘Please’.
I look away, unable to see anymore. Should I have helped her get away, too?
I fight the guilt, remembering her inability to recognize the wrong happening on this campus until it happened to her.
How many innocent lives had she helped sacrifice in the name of a false God?
I watch Priest Brown stand up tall and turn to face the congregation of other masked members. “Her silence speaks louder than words.”
He walks away from his daughter without a second glance as she sobs softly.
He doesn’t show any remorse or concern for her.
In that moment, it was clear that any humanity he once possessed was gone.
In its place is pure decomposing rot. It is Death.
He deserves every horrible thing coming his way.
I’ll be sure of it, even if that means losing my own life in the process.