Chapter 22 Ophelia
Ophelia
My hand is covered in blood. The Prophet’s blood.
He always said he could never die. He was wrong.
I took his life! The man who terrorized me for most of my life lost his to me. I don’t have time to dwell on the enormity of it. I must help Daisy.
With one of my hands free, I work to loosen the other. It only takes me a few seconds. All of my thoughts are on my friend. I fumble to untie the rope around my ankles and swing myself around to face her.
“Daisy? Wake up. Please. You need to wake up.”
I push her hair away from her face, which blurs beyond my tears. I put my palm under her nose, trying to feel her breath, and then place my fingers to her throat, searching for a pulse.
There is nothing.
“Untie her! We need to untie her.” I yank at the restraints still holding her to the wooden pulpit, but I only serve in pulling them tighter.
Panic takes over, and I struggle to make my hands and fingers work.
I’m aware of the men, of Malachi helping to untie Daisy from the pulpit, and Cain unbinding her ankles.
Together, they lay her out on the floor of the church.
Malachi checks her breathing and pulse, just like I did.
He shares a glance with Cain and gives a tiny shake of his head.
“No!” I scream. “No, no, no. Do something. You have to do something.”
Mal pushes Daisy’s hair from her face, then pinches her nose and covers her mouth with his. He blows hard twice, then Cain starts chest compressions. Roman crouches beside me, his hand on my back.
“Please, please, please,” I beg, tears streaming down my face. This has to work, it has to.
They keep going—Mal giving her his breath and Cain using his strength to start her heart. The seconds stretch to minutes, and there’s no reaction from Daisy.
“It’s not working,” Malachi says eventually. “I’m so sorry, Ophelia.”
“You can’t stop! You can’t!”
They exchange a glance and keep going, but deep down, I know it’s no use. Another minute or so passes, and I sense the energy and determination seeping from Mal and Cain. They know it’s hopeless.
I howl like an animal and lunge for her. Hands are on me, trying to pull me away, but I fight them. I don’t care who it is.
I scoop Daisy’s limp shoulders and head into my arms and hold her to me. I bury my face in her neck, rocking her. “Please, Daisy, wake up,” I sob.
Even though I know she won’t, I cling to some desperate part of me that hopes this is all just a nightmare and I’ll wake from it at any moment.
“Angel, no, don’t.”
Cain tries again to pull me away, but I turn and snarl at him like a wild animal. “She’s dead,” I cry. “Because of me. Make her wake up. Is there an antidote? Something we can give her? There must be.”
“She’s gone, baby.” Mal crouches down into my line of vision. He reaches for one of my hands and holds my gaze. “Breathe, baby. Just breathe, okay?”
His words, his dry warm hands holding mine, take me back to a time that seems like eons ago when he talked me through a panic attack at the college.
This time, though, I don’t think his breathing exercises are going to cut it. I feel as if my mind is splintering. I turn from Daisy to look at the Prophet, lying dead on the church floor. His eyes are wide and staring, and he’s horrifying to look at.
“We can’t leave her here.” I shake my head. “I won’t.”
“Ophelia,” Malachi says, but he trails off, as though he has no idea how to finish his sentence.
Movement comes from the front of the church, and it’s followed by a piercing scream, and a shout of, “What’s going on in here?”
A rustle of maroon material and long braided hair rushes toward us, and the next moment, Daisy’s mother, Susan, drops to her knees. I realize she’s the one who screamed.
“Oh, Daisy. My darling girl. Oh, no, no. Please, no.”
I turn on her. “You were going to let her die moments ago. What’s the difference now?”
“This isn’t the way,” Susan cries. “She was going to ascend—that was different.”
“You stupid, hypocritical bitch.”
With a scream, I launch myself at her mom, but before I can grab her hair and rip it out of her brainwashed head, I’m lifted away. My legs kick air, and then I’m thrown over a shoulder, fireman lift style, and hauled out of the church through the back door.
“No.” I kick my legs and beat my fists against Cain’s back. “I want to stay with her.”
When we reach the outside of the church, Cain gently sets me down on the ground. Roman’s face swims into vision as he sits beside me.
Cain is moving around me, lifting my hair, checking me for injuries, but Roman is simply holding my gaze.
I can see in his eyes all the pain he’s suffered in his life, and how much he’s feeling for me now.
It hurts so much I don’t know if I can carry it; the weight of the pain is overwhelming.
I can hear people screaming, and there are figures running over the fields.
I recognize some of them. Where do they think they are going?
They don’t trust the woods beyond, but perhaps they fear them less than what’s happening to their home.
“We need to get out of here,” Felix says. “The commune won’t be happy when they find their Prophet dead.”
He’s right, of course, but I can’t even bring myself to care. This all feels too cruel. We were supposed to free Daisy and her family from the clutches of the Prophet, and instead we’ve delivered them into a fresh kind of hell.
I press the heels of my hands into my eyes and rock back and forth, trying to suppress the need to scream at the top of my lungs.
“We’ve got to get back to the vehicles, Angel.
” Cain’s voice breaks through my internal screaming, and I slowly raise my eyes to his.
“Here, put this on. You’ll freeze.” He takes off his sweatshirt, leaving him in just a t-shirt, and pulls it on over my head.
I lift my arms listlessly like a child being dressed by a parent.
“We have bikes, just up over the hill. We need to go. Now, Ophelia.” Mal’s voice holds an urgent edge to it, and when I hear angry male shouting, I realize why.
While many of the commune are scattering and panicking, some of the men sound like they’re organizing.
A wail starts up from inside the church. A woman’s voice, loud and plaintive. “They killed our Prophet. Oh, Lord, no, they killed him. Our Prophet. Oh, help us.”
“Fuck.” Cain growls under his breath. “Ophelia, can you run? We need to make for that tree line and the bikes right now.”
I nod. My mind is so close to shattering that being told what to do is actually helpful.
“Good girl,” Cain says.
He takes my hand and pulls me with him as he sets off racing to the tree line. He’s faster than I am, and I struggle to keep up. Cain notices, and he bends down, scoops me into his arms, and keeps on running, as if I weigh nothing.
Despite everything, the feel of his big arms around me and his familiar scent offer me comfort and ground me in a feeling of safety.
We reach the bikes, and a gunshot rings out behind us.
Deacon and Roman stop, turn, and both open fire back toward the church and the still burning buildings.
I stare in shock at the place that used to be my home. The flames have spread beyond the initial building, and the entire settlement is at risk.
More gunshots ring out, and I scream at the whizzing sound of a bullet flying far too near us.
“Shit. Get on, Ophelia.” Malachi holds the bike steady as Cain places me on the back before getting on in front of me.
“Hold on tight to me,” Cain orders.
The other men grab their own bikes. Felix and Roman on one, and Malachi and Deacon on the other. The bikes tear off, wheels spinning in the dirt. As we roar away, both Deacon and Roman, who are on the backs, keep shooting toward the men who are racing up the hill after us.
I close my eyes as the bullets zip by and pray to God they miss us. Soon the sounds are faded, and I peek to see Roman and Deacon have put their weapons away and are holding the shirts of the men in front of them.
Hands gripping Cain’s top, I cling on for dear life as we race through the woods, the bike bouncing over the dirt, back toward the RV and the rest of Cain’s men. I can’t remotely process all that has happened, but as the bikes twist and turn through the trees, I let my mind drift.
I lost Daisy, and it hurts so bad, but I also took my power back. I killed the Prophet. He was going to kill me—and my men if he had half the chance—and I turned the tables.
Something hot and powerful burns in me. My entire life, ever since he took me, has been about fearing that man but now he’s gone.
He wasn’t some big scary monster at the end of the day, he was just a man, and like all men, he bled, and, like all men, he could die.
We finally reach the clearing, and Cain’s men rush up to us as we climb off the bikes. My teeth are chattering, and I don’t think it’s from the cold. My legs are weak and wobbly, and I feel as if there’s a barrier between me and everyone else. The world has faded somehow and seems a lot less solid.
One of Cain’s men walks to me, frowning. “She needs something for the shock. A hot drink with sugar, or a shot of brandy.”
“No fucking time,” Felix snaps. “We’ve got a gang of men from that commune on our heels, and even with the Prophet gone, we don’t know who they are in cahoots with in law enforcement.”
“It’s time to leave, right now.” Mal runs his fingers through his hair and blows out a stressed breath.
Cain nods. “Yes. We’re leaving. You guys follow us in the RV, and let’s get on the road.”
I automatically get in the back of the truck, and Roman starts to climb in beside me, but Cain shakes his head. “I want to be next to her. You sit up front, and Mal can drive.”
“I almost fucking lost her, too,” Roman snaps.
“And you’ve spent every minute with her recently.” Cain glowers at him.
Things are bad enough without my men fighting. I glare at them, just wanting to be on our way now that the fog in my head is clearing.
There’s nothing I can do for Daisy, and her parents will make sure she’s put to rest properly. Maybe I can plant a tree for her or something, but for now, we must leave. A fight will only slow us down.
“You can take turns,” I snap. “Cain you can sit with me first.” I slide into the back.
Roman shoots Cain an angry glare but relents and climbs into the front seat. Around us, doors slam shut and engines roar.
I’ve been getting close to Roman, but things are so unsteady for me right now that I want to be near Cain. He’s been a presence in my life for the longest, and I feel as if I might float away, so I’m hoping he’ll ground me.
Malachi turns and gives me one fast, concerned glance, then focuses ahead and guns the engine. We drive back out the way we came.
I scoot across the seat, reaching for Cain. He pulls me into him. I’m not wearing my seatbelt, but, if I put it on, I can’t get as close to him as I need to be. And I need to be close. The shaking, which feels as if it’s coming from deep inside me, is getting worse.
It’s as if I’m literally falling apart. God help me, what if I totally lose what little was left of my mind?
“Come here, Fee. It’s okay.” Cain uses his childhood name for me, and he pulls me onto his lap, my feet over the other side of him, me sitting side on. His big arms wrap around me and hold me tight, and he cocoons me in that feeling of safety I need.
As we bump along the track, and Cain keeps on holding tight, I finally start to feel something release. Like a damn cracking deep inside, a sob escapes me. I slam my hand over my mouth, embarrassed at the sound, but another follows and my chest heaves.
“It’s okay, Angel. Let it out. I’ve got you.” Cain kisses the top of my head and gently rocks me as I cry myself to sleep in his arms, while Malachi drives like a bat out of hell through the woods.
When I open my eyes, it’s to see we’re pulling into a rest stop.
“Where are we?” I mumble.
“Just outside Harrisburg,” Cain answers. “We came a different way back. Thought it would be wise to vary our route, just in case.”
“It barely makes any difference timewise.” Mal swivels around to look at me. “How you feeling, baby?”
“Shaky,” I answer truthfully.
“You need some sugar.” Mal gets out of the car and stretches, as Roman yawns and cracks open his own door.
“Come on, Angel. Let’s get you some sustenance.” Cain strokes his thumb over the back of my hand.
“I can’t eat.” The thought of food makes me want to throw up.
“At least get something to drink, maybe one of those iced things all you girls love, in those big cups? Some sugar will help you feel less shaky.”
I furrow my brow. “Or shakier, I would think.”
“No. When you’ve had an emotional shock, your adrenaline spikes and your blood sugar drops, so a sweet drink can help.”
Is that even true? I have no energy to argue, though, so I merely nod and follow Cain out of the car. The RV pulls up behind us, and Deacon climbs out.
He’s pale, with dark shadows beneath his eyes, and his lips are pinched. Is he thinking of Daisy, too, and the small connection he had with her? None of us are going to forget these past few hours in a hurry.
As we head into the rest stop, I turn to Cain. “What happens now?” I whisper.
He frowns as if I’ve asked him something really idiotic. “You come home with us. We all go home.”
“I don’t know if I can just go back to normal.” My eyes fill with tears again, but I blink them away. “I’m not even sure what my normal is.”
“You’re bound to feel that way now, but you’ll be better once you’re back at the tower.”
Being with my three men has been my safe place these past weeks, but suddenly I’m not sure. I’ve been through so much, and Daisy is dead, because of me. I wonder if I ought to go home. To my parents. Give myself time to think about what I really need.
“What is that look for?” Cain asks.
“I don’t know. I’m wondering if I ought to go home for a short while.”
He stops walking and pulls me roughly around to face him. “Your home is with us now, Ophelia. You belong to the Preachers.”
The way he says it, as if there’s no discussion to be had—as if it’s an immutable law of life—causes a shiver to race down my spine.
He takes my hand and squeezes it as we walk into the brightly lit forecourt, but my mind is racing.