Chapter Fifteen
Lucy:
I jump at the sudden shrill clang that threatens to burst my eardrums as it rings through the house like an emergency panic alarm. Isabel’s house phone rings so rarely that it always startles me when it does sound. I’ve gone back and forth with whether to set the volume to low so it’s not so scary—or to high, in case I miss a call from Sam, about the only one who calls me.
In either case, my shaking hand reaches out for the receiver, my heart pounding with the rush of adrenaline.
“Hello?”
“Isabel?” A man’s deep bellow.
“Y-yes?”
“Good day to you, ma’am. This is Brother Arnold from the congregation of The Risen. We won’t need your services this weekend. The church will be running functions at the crack of dawn and ending very late. We’ll expect you Monday night as usual, though.”
“Okay. That will be fine.”
“Thank you for your service to the Lor—”
A click ends the call suddenly, which is odd.
“Hello?” There’s dead silence in my ear. Maybe he didn’t end the call at all. Maybe it’s the service.
I depress the receiver a couple of times, but there’s no dial tone. So, it’s on my end.
Frantically, I look around the house. There’s a dim light coming from the lamp, so not a power outage.
Okay, don’t panic. I’ll wait until it gets dark around eight, another hour or so, and if it’s still not working, I’ll just sneak over to the church and relay a message to Sam. I know their phone works since he just called me.
I have the sniffles. That was the last code to alert her that something weird is happening, but I’m not sure if it’s an emergency. Maybe I can amend it to say, “I have the sniffles but my phone isn’t working at home?” Or will that confuse her? Will she rush over and risk her parents or Duke finding out that she sneaks from the house? Will they follow her?
Or worse, has something happened with the plan? Isabel and River were coming to break up the political party. Did that happen? Did something go wrong? No one came by to see me, to let me know what was going on. Of course, I know the best thing for me would be to leave me out of it. To avoid being followed here, but right now I feel alone and anxious and paranoid.
I’m on pins and needles until the sun finally disappears. I obsessively check the phone every few minutes, but it’s still dead.
I’m more cut off from everyone than ever.
Grabbing one of Isabel’s hooded cloaks, I slip out the front door, locking it behind me before sliding the lone key into my bra. Even if I lose it, I’ll be okay.
Sam and I came up with a back-up plan when Isabel left the planet. I have a spare key buried in the tulips. It’s not something that can be found easily because it’s never used, so I don’t run the chance of someone watching me and seeing a secret hiding spot for keys, like a fake rock or a plant. And it wasn’t a problem when I lived with Isabel because someone was always home.
But just knowing if anything happens, and I can get away, I don’t have to worry about how to get back. I can hide somewhere, quietly make my way home when I’m not being followed, and know I can always get inside by searching for the buried key.
I hurry along the darkened path into the communal grounds. The church doesn’t have the doors open, which means it’s not in use. Common enough for a week night. I head toward the back of the church, where there’s a keyless entry, and punch in the maintenance code. I’ll make a quick phone call and leave.
The church is dark as I head toward the back office. Because it’s in the back and has darkened windows, I don’t have to worry about anyone seeing someone inside, so I flip the light on.
And freeze.
“Well, well, well. What have we here?”
The voice I’ve heard a thousand times on the news sends cold terror racing down my spine.
He’s found me.
I’ve never seen Duke Milinazzo in person. I’ve studied pictures to recognize him. And I realize most pictures are doctored to look our best. But, in real life, he looks… crazed.
His hair is cut and styled to be light and fluffy, but looks like he slept on it and now, a day later, it stands on end. It sticks straight up at the crown, possibly from running his hands through it, but a huge, sprayed piece flips down over his forehead. His eyes are brown, like mine, darting back and forth. His teeth are overly whitened, I guess to make him seem trusting? Like maybe white teeth are the opposite of the aliens we’re matched with, who have transparent yellow teeth. Kind of pretty—like shiny, polished amber. It’s clear he’s wealthy, his clothes are as nice as Samantha’s and I’ve been in her house. I know how well-to-do her home is.
“So, I was right,” Duke whispers as he stands. “You did manage to team up with Isabel. That vindictive little bitch.”
“You know who I am?” Somehow that shouldn’t hurt but… it does.
“But of course, I know you, Lucifer’s Daughter,” he says. “I’ve been hunting you a very long time. Too long. You should have been taken care of years ago when you left the home, but you disappeared, didn’t you?”
The only reason why I wasn’t “taken care of” was because I’d gotten away. And if I don’t get out now, he’ll finish the job.
We both pause for a brief moment, taking in the distance from where we stand to the door, then one of us twitches, and I go sailing toward it.
He catches me in an instant, his fingers digging into my arms as he spins me around to face him. “It’s not that easy, you little bitch. You ruined my whole fucking career, you and Isabel, the spiteful whore.”
“How did I ruin your career?” I gasp.
“Don’t pretend you weren’t in on the plan for her and her daughter coming to Earth to announce I was the father.”
“You would have been an awful president anyway,” I sneer. “I’m glad you were taken out.”
He drags me out of the church, and we stumble through the backyard. At the end of a downward slope, where the shackles and wooden pedestal where River was once whipped, where Skiden and I once talked, are two waiting men dressed in robes.
“Here,” he says to them. One is old, wispy white hairs around his head, his eyes sunken like a mummy. The other is heavyset, his belly spread full under his robe. He wears a moustache and it’s darker than the rest of his hair.
“You were supposed to bring River’s mother,” he says. “This Isabel that you said cleans the church.”
“Isabel decided to live with the aliens on that planet. I bring you the next best thing. River’s sister.”
Oh, my God. Did I hear what I think I heard? Did he call me… River’s sister? My ears are ringing and I try to think back to when she visited and I thought she seemed familiar. At the time, I thought it was because of her similarities to Isabel but maybe she had some to me and I didn’t notice?
Our black hair.
Our round foreheads—obviously inherited from Duke.
And I should have known. Isabel was impregnated by one of her father’s friends. I should have known which friend it was but I was so wrapped up in the hideousness of Isabel losing her baby that it’s all I focused on.
I recover from my shock to see the dark-headed man narrows his gaze, taking me in fully. Studying my features… then he narrows his eyes at Duke.
“You’ll have to willingly present her. Father to daughter. That’s how it’s done here. If all goes as planned, we’ll take you to our east commune when things die down within a month and you’ll be able to hide out there. No questions asked.”
“And you,” the older man says, turning to me and grabbing my upper arm as he yanks me to him, “will do as we say.”
He’s surprisingly strong for someone who looks so frail.
“Pleasure doing business with you,” Duke smirks, and leaves me in the hands of these two. Just turns and walks down the path toward the communal housing. Someone must be allowing him to stay with them, then?
“I say we mark her face like River’s—except this time we complete the job,” the first one says.
“Donald,” the older one says. “Restrain yourself. I know you want revenge on River but we have grumbling from the people over that mark.”
“She was my daughter and I had every right to mark her—”
“We both know that. However, meeting those aliens made us look like the bad guys instead of simply the ones who were punishing a disobedient maiden. River was beautiful and when she returned? She looked horrific. Like one of them. Tattoos covering her face to replace the scar! As if she preferred that look. And to choose to stay with those monsters? People are still whispering about why she would choose them over us. They hush when we’re present, but we can’t always be present, can we?”
So their control over the people in the commune is starting to slip.
“Why would our people trust aliens over their own?” Donald asks.
The older man—the prophet—shrugs. “Because they fed them? Offered them a presence that night when they returned? Pretended to want to get to know them? Who knows what sheep are thinking.” And he leans into Donald. “And it’s up to us to herd them. To show them the proper way and this girl”—he eyes me thoughtfully— “will do it.”
“You can’t kidnap a woman and hold her here,” I say.
“Can’t we? No one knows you exist, right? River was put into a basket and sailed into our commune. Where were you at that time?”
Safe with my mother for two years. Two years is all I got with her.
“Do you know who River’s father was? Who mine is, the one that just left?” I ask tentatively.
The prophet shrugs. “What do we care?”
“That man you just let go is Duke Milinazzo, who thought he’d run for president until it was found out he impregnated a child. Isabel was only fourteen years old. Everyone is looking for him. You think to hide him? Just like those aliens came for River, they’ll come for me. They’ll find me here and they’ll know you bargained with Duke for both of his daughters.”
And only then does Donald look worried.
“It’ll be too late.” The prophet calms him. “She’ll be safely married, replacing her sister.”
“That heathen broke my wrist,” Donald says. “It still pains me to this day.”
“You have three wives to wait on you,” the prophet says.
“Two of them are idiots,” Donald snaps. “And First Wife has her hands full with the household duties.” He eyes me. “Maybe it would be fitting for me to take this one—”
The prophet lays his withered, spotted hand on the man’s arm. “Brother Donald, normally I wouldn’t mind. However, because River was your daughter and this one resembles her, I think those rumblings would grow. Tales of perverted hidden desires. And right now, we don’t need any negativity. No excuses that we’re doing anything out of order. So, she’ll stay my replacement bride. One sister for another.”
I almost choke on my breath. I’m not sure which—husband—would be worse.
“I’ll lock her up for tonight.” He eyes me thoughtfully. “River’s old room will be beneficial for us all.”
“Send a message to this Duke.” The prophet scrunches up his nose in distaste. “Make sure he’s present at the ceremony tomorrow night to give me his daughter if he wants payment for his end of the bargain.”
I’m dragged away by Donald—River’s adoptive father. Or rather, the man who stole her from the river where Isabel was sailing her down to her aunt.
I’m tossed in a room, the door locking behind me from the outside. Was River locked into her room? Quickly, I look around. There’s a closet with a door. I swing it open to find a few pastel abominations hanging. To be fair, I might be rather spoiled since Samantha has started sharing her expensive clothing. But these things—these gowns—are heavy and pastel, tiny buttons going all the way up the neck. My throat feels itchy just thinking of them.
They’re well worn, the bottoms scrubbed and faded from dragging in the dirt. Beneath the hanging dresses are boots.
Boots. Workhorse, fit-for-the-fields, boots.
Somehow, I know this is River’s room and it’s hard to imagine the happy, beautiful girl happily wearing alien tattoos strewn down her face and neck lived here once. Wore these ghastly gowns.
Hard to believe she’s my sister.
If I ever get to see Sam again, I’ll ask her if she suspected that Isabel’s long-lost daughter was my sister. Oh, God. That means Isabel—at fourteen—was impregnated by my father. Who was also impregnating my own mother near the same time.
A short time later, the lights shut down automatically and with nothing left to see or explore, I feel around in the dark and climb into her bed.
Clothes on.
I’m not giving any old geezer easy access.
It’s a long night of tossing and turning. I don’t think I’ll be able to fall asleep, but as soon as I think that, the door bangs open, hitting the wall and making me jump. I’m astonished to find the room light because when I closed my eyes, it was pitch black. The sun is filtering into the windows and I’m surprised I fell asleep at all.
Three older women bustle in. They wear the same type of dresses that the commune womenfolk wear—though an extreme version. Like the atrocious clothing in the closet. They wear their hair in the same style, a high-piled fat bun on top their heads, though the one in the center braided hers before twisting it.
“Get up!” the one in the middle snaps. “The marriage ceremony is being moved up. We no longer have all day to prepare you.” She eyes me disdainfully. “As much as you need it.”
I stare in a sleepy shock. So, it was real. I really was abducted last night, and put in River’s old bedroom.
“My God. She is a relation.” One of the women crosses herself. “You can see the resemblance between them. She has been brought to us to correct River’s sin, just like they said.”
“Yes,” I say wryly. “What are the chances that two from the same bloodline would be kidnapped by a bunch of crazed lunatics?”
The woman in the middle steps forward and slaps me across the face. After the shock wears off, the burning sting leaves my ear ringing.
And I have nothing left to lose.
I fly off the bed and jump on her, legs kicking, fists flying, hair pulling. The other two join in and soon the room is filled with screeching, like chickens squawking in a hen house. The fists swing, but even though it’s three on one, I have Skiden’s training under my belt. I feel confident knowing I give as good as I get. And pretty soon, the women are red faced and puffy cheeked, panting like dogs in high heat, hair hanging from their buns in a tangled mess as we’re pulled apart by two guards.
“What in God’s Eden is going on?” Donald shouts.
That makes me snort and it’s not just from the blood, either. Though I’m not bleeding half as bad as Braided Bun. The woman to the right of her has a rapidly swelling eye, the one to the left looks like her lip is split open.
The floor is covered in hair and none of it’s black.
Braided bun spits blood out of her mouth and glares at me. Apparently, she’s the only one who’s allowed to answer Donald.
“This little hellfire bitch attacked me.”
Split Lip gasps and Black Eye stares, mouth agape. Apparently, that’s not a word she should be allowed to use.
I purposely cross myself at her curse, making the movements large and deliberate enough to get the point across.
Braided Bun’s puffy face turns redder as I point out her failings in front of her lord and master.
“Go get some ice,” Donald snaps to the crowd gathered in the hallway. “We can’t have the prophet’s bride look like a train wreck.”
He turns to me. “Get yourself in the shower, or I’ll let them clean you up.”
That doesn’t scare me. It’d simply be a water fight. But the wicked glint in his eye does. I wouldn’t put it past him to bathe me himself.
While my hair’s wet, I slap it into a bun. I can already guess that he’ll have someone do it and they’re going to take revenge over having half their hair pulled out.
The three ladies are huddled together on the bed. They’ve fixed their tragic buns, though it’s a sloppier, softer effect than the tight, rigid comb-through they wore before. Almost as if they couldn’t take handling their hair roughly.
You’re welcome.
“Get this on,” Donald snarls, yanking one of River’s dresses out. An odd shade of… pale buttercup. Not beige and not quite yellow, more muted. I’m glad it’s not the Pepto-pink that’s been washed so many times, it’s faded.
In fact, the blue is muted too. I think that’s all they wear—faded, muted pastels.
“Mother Clara,” Donald says to Braided Bun. “I think we need something to cover her face until she’s presented. The prophet mentioned the aliens are nearby.”
They’re here? They’ll see me. Surely if it’s Skiden, Mejak, or Kalrian, they’ll recognize me. Calbin, or Mikhail would know me.
Mother Clara scuttles off and I see all three of them have changed into different dresses. Their faces still show the marks of the fight, though.
Someone’s bound to notice.
Donald grabs my upper arm, fingers pinching cruelly. “Being the prophet’s next wife doesn’t save you. I’m sure you’ll visit my household often to make amends for what your sister’s done.”
He ties my hands behind my back. That’s nice. A bound bride.
Mother Clara’s boots can be heard clacking down the hallway. She’s carrying a hat with an attached veil, but also has a silk scarf in her hand.
“They might be able to recognize her through the veil but we can cover her face like she’s a prize,” she sneers.
“Great idea,” Donald murmurs.
She blushes with his praise.
“I’m not marrying him.” My voice has a panicked tone because these people are insane. I come from a government run orphanage where there are rules and paperwork and reasons for visits. These people seem to do whatever they want, however they want, including forcing someone to marry against their will.
“Won’t say I do?” Donald asks. “No problem.”
The rip of duct tape is loud in the room and then he zips it over my mouth, quick as can be.
“We learned from River. This time, we won’t ask,” he says.
The black scarf goes over my head and then the hat sits on top and the only light coming in is through the bottom of the veil, that ends near my chin. Two people take my arms and I’m led out of the room.
I can feel when we’re outside, the sun is warm. I hear the prophet’s voice congratulating Donald on being wise enough to cover my face. Donald doesn’t mention why, or the fact that it’s done because the prophet’s bride looks like a train wreck.
Then I’m slowly marched across the field.