The Preachers’ Prize (Verona Falls Preachers #3)

Chapter 1

Ophelia

Taking you had always been his plan…

My blood runs cold from the information Daisy, my friend from the cult, has given me.

Her words flick through my head as though on a slideshow, over and over.

I’d always believed the Prophet taking me that day outside of the ice cream parlor had been a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I’d thought he’d noticed my pale blonde hair and mismatched eyes and decided it must mean something.

But now my brain rearranges those events.

Instead of that son of a bitch accidentally happening upon me, he’d been told by someone else where I’d be.

He’d been watching for an opportune moment to snatch me.

Rage fills me at the thought, then terror because the biggest question now is who had betrayed me.

Who would arrange to have a young girl snatched by the leader of a cult? It had to have been a person in my life, someone close enough to know where we’d be and when, but I can’t bring myself to consider who could do that to me.

My legs feel shaky, and if I wasn’t already sitting down, I think I would fall.

Who would be sick enough to do that to a young girl?

Daisy and I are sitting on a bench, a short walk away from the main gates of Verona Falls where the guards stand watch.

They seem curious about Daisy’s arrival but not alarmed.

What is there to be worried about in a teenage girl who is dressed like she’s from the dark ages, in an ankle-length, long-sleeved maroon dress with her long brown hair tied back primly in a bun at her nape?

My Preachers, however, are clearly more concerned. They can see the effect Daisy’s arrival and the news she’s delivered has had on me.

The news about how I was taken is bad enough, but Daisy’s information about the Prophet’s plans for an ascension in the commune are horrifying.

People will follow him, because they always do, partly because they’re too afraid to do anything else, but also because they believe in him.

All the vitriol he spouted about us burning in the fires of hell for all eternity was real to those people—I even believed it myself for a long time—and they will do whatever it takes to ensure they go to heaven.

Cain is the first to step in, his huge form blocking out our view of the gates. “Ophelia, is everything okay? You’ve gone pale.”

Malachi joins him, angling his head, his dark eyes intense. “You’re shaking. Why are you shaking?”

I barely know how to answer them. I look around at their concerned expressions, and my mouth opens then closes again. Poor Roman is hurt after what my father did to him. He should probably be the one sitting down. It pains me to look at his face and realize that I’m at least some way responsible.

Malachi rounds on Daisy. “What did you say to her?” he demands.

Her eyes widen as she presses her spine to the back of the bench, as though she’s trying to disappear into the wood.

I can’t help feeling protective. Daisy was like a little sister to me back in the cult. “Mal, you’re scaring her!”

“I don’t give a fuck,” he snarls. He turns back to Daisy. “Tell me what the hell you just said.”

Cain’s hand on Mal’s arm pulls him back a little. “You’re not helping, man. Take a breath.”

But I can see Cain is worried, too.

Malachi might have asked Daisy the question, but I answer on her behalf. “She said the Prophet is planning a mass suicide at the commune.”

Cain’s jaw drops. “What the fuck?”

I continue. “There are maybe a hundred innocent people there, women and children. If they go ahead with this…”

Malachi interrupts. “Why the fuck would they choose to take their own lives because some crazy bastard tells them to?”

“They don’t see it as taking their own lives. They see it as simply moving on to a new one. A better one. It’s like shedding a skin to become something restored. That’s what makes it so scary. They don’t see the truth.”

Maybe some of them will, though. There are bound to be at least a handful of people with doubts. Mothers who are looking at their children and have just enough uncertainty to feel that frisson of fear.

But if they dare question the Prophet, or even utter those doubts to someone else, believing they’re in private conversation, the Prophet will find a way to shut them down.

Psychologically, it’s one of the things I struggled with the most—and that I still struggle with—his claim to be able to see inside our heads.

He said he knew any time we questioned him, and the worst part was that it was as though he really did.

He’d say things that made it seem as if he could tell what we were thinking and feeling.

Maybe it was simply because he was incredibly intuitive, or perhaps he had ears everywhere that reported back to him, but there were no secrets in that place.

Malachi reaches for me. “Come on, let’s go back to the water tower. You’ve had a shock.”

I understand he’s being protective, but I ignore his outstretched hand.

Cain turns to Daisy. “Thank you for bringing this to us, but you can go now.”

I grab Daisy’s fingers. “No, she can’t go.”

“What?” Mal snaps, clearly furious.

“She’s got nowhere to go,” I say, “other than back to the cult. I’m not letting her go back there.”

Daisy looks at me. “I might have to, Ophelia. How else will I save my family? I can’t let them die alone.”

“You’re not going back. I won’t have it.”

Roman steps forward. “Malachi, wait a minute. We might be able to use this information.”

It clearly pains him to talk, but he forces himself to. My God, my father’s men really did beat him badly. It makes guilt twist in my stomach when I think back to them smashing their fists into Roman because of what he did to save me at the institute.

Malachi narrows his dark eyes. “What? How?”

“Daisy wants to save her family, and we want to be rid of the Prophet for good, right?”

“What are you saying?”

“That Daisy helps us find him. She came from the cult, so she must be able to find her way back again, right?” He shoots Daisy a look. She seems to shrink under his gaze, but she gives the tiniest of nods.

Malachi picks up on what Roman is suggesting. “That she leads us back to the cult so we can find the Prophet and stop him.”

“Could you do it?” Cain asks her. “Would you be able to take us back there?”

Instinctively, I squeeze Daisy’s hand. Her fingers are warm compared to my cool ones. It’s probably the shock of seeing her, but I feel icy. What the men are discussing only makes the freeze inside me deepen.

I don’t want her going back. I don’t want any of them going there.

My heart is jackhammering, and adrenaline makes me dizzy.

But I know this plan they’re forming is right.

Daisy came to us for help and to warn us.

She was never going to sit back and allow her family to die.

I think of Daisy’s mother—a sweet woman in her forties called Susan—and her father, David.

Daisy has younger siblings, too, a brother and a sister.

Her brother would be about twelve years old now, and her sister only nine.

How could she possibly live with herself knowing they’d be willing to take their own lives, not really understanding what they were doing, without her trying in some way to stop them?

Daisy dares look Cain in the eye, and I’m proud of her for that. She’s stronger than she seems. After all, she made it all the way here, didn’t she?

“Yes, I could do that, if you’ll help my family.”

Cain gives a curt nod. “That seems fair.”

“Let’s get back to the water tower,” Malachi says. “We can talk better there.”

Still holding Daisy’s hand, I stand and pull her up with me.

“Where are we going?” she asks in a small voice.

“To the place we live,” I tell her.

“Okay.”

As we walk back up the gravel path, Daisy’s attention is focused on the grand old building of the college.

“That’s Verona Falls University,” I tell her. “It’s where I’m studying.”

“Wow, you’re at a real college?”

“I am.”

“It’s so beautiful,” she says wistfully.

“You’ll have to get a tour later,” I say, “after you’ve rested. It’s stunning inside.”

I find myself swelling with pride as I say the words.

Back in the cult, the only kind of education we were allowed was what the Prophet decided to teach us.

Most of it was based around how to be a good wife and mother, and how to be faithful to him and to God.

Now, a whole other world has opened to me.

I remind myself how close I came to losing it all when my father decided to take me away for my own safety, and my stomach knots again.

Had he really thought it was for my own safety, or was he in league with the Prophet somehow and had removed me from Verona Falls to make me more vulnerable?

But if that was the case, why had he been so angry about the letter?

Was it that he’d been worried about me finding out the truth?

I can’t believe I’m even having these thoughts, but my dad has shown me a very different side to himself recently, and it’s as if I never really knew him.

The betrayal cuts deep. I don’t want to voice it out loud, making it real. I already know what the Preachers will say, and, with the mess of Roman’s face as evidence, perhaps they’ll be right.

The thought of my own father betraying me makes me want to cry, but I hold back my tears.

If I cry, the Preachers will demand I tell them the reason behind my tears, and I’ll have to explain it to them.

They already hate my dad, and I don’t want to give them a reason to despise him further.

I need to get this information straight in my head first before I share it.

We have enough going on with Daisy, and the news of what the Prophet plans, to worry about what happened a long time ago.

He's still obsessed with you…

That was something else Daisy said, and I don’t want to think about it too much. I already believed that, deep down, didn’t I? That’s why I’ve been able to hear his voice all this time. As much as I hate it, we had a connection, and my leaving hasn’t broken it.

We walk past the college building and head deeper into the woods. I can feel Daisy shooting me curious glances, wondering where we’re going.

Cain’s father’s men are still with us, staying in an RV a short distance from the water tower.

I believe a couple of them must have followed the Preachers when they chased me to the front gates, but they’re good at their jobs and hung back enough to protect us but also not be noticed.

It was part of the deal made when we asked to bring them on the grounds—that they stay out of the dean’s way and don’t interfere with onsite security.

Knowing they’re here does make me feel safer.

It’s not only that I’m worried about the Prophet and what he might try to do, I’m also concerned about Roman and what happened back at the facility.

He’d killed a man—even if that man deserved everything he got—and according to the doctor who put me there, it isn’t something the owner of the facility is likely to forget or smooth over.

I think about all the other patients I left behind there, including the girl who’d befriended me and helped me with the meds. What was happening to them now?

I want to shake myself. I’m spiraling with all these thoughts. Why do I feel the weight of responsibility for so many people, when I’m barely surviving myself?