Chapter 3 #2
Leed strides toward me and I sink in on myself.
He buries his fingers in my hair. Fisting my curls, he tugs at the roots.
I tilt my head back, working to relieve some of the pressure from my scalp.
Leed takes it as an invitation to kiss me and sinks his lips against mine. The gesture is far from intimate.
“I cannot allow you to leave our home unchaperoned. And since I am needed to assist the Lamb’s Golden Light this evening, I will not be able watch you myself. You must stay here.” He gently dots a kiss on my nose.
“Lamb’s Golden Light?” My neck is still craned to peer up at him. He hasn’t released my hair.
“Reverend Statton has hand-selected a small group, including myself, to keep watch over the town.”
Reverend Statton is certainly keeping himself busy these days.
Now my fiancé is under his thumb? A part of some special group of watchers?
I know what’s really happening. Men need to feel important.
By giving them a title and purpose, Reverend Statton has won them over to his side.
What side that is for remains uncertain, but with Alesia’s death still fresh, I suspect his future intentions to be ill indeed.
I try speaking to the part of Leed that has always been sensible, rational during discussion. “Well then, it will be even safer than normal with you out and about. I do not need a chaperone. It’s just a meeting with friends.”
Leed drops his hold on my hair. My scalp is tender from the firm grip. He moves between me and the front door, leaning against the wood and folding his arms over his broad chest. “The answer is no.”
A bud of panic sprouts in my chest. “The answer? I did not ask for permission.” My palms sweat as anger and embarrassment threaten to break my composure. Why is he acting like this?
“You will not leave this house tonight, Emeline.” The finality in his tone stokes my anger.
“But you’re leaving. You said it yourself. With you out there keeping an eye on things, I’ll be fine.”
“Reverend Statton spoke with us after the arrests this morning. He was adamant that we protect our women by whatever means necessary.” Leed pushes off the door and takes several quick steps toward me, leaving only the smallest bit of space between us.
I usually like the difference in height.
His tall stature has always made me feel safe and protected.
I found it attractive when we first met.
Right now, the way he towers over me feels menacing.
“I don’t want to have to restrain you. But I will. ”
My mouth hinges wide in shock, my cheeks hot. “Restrain me?”
Leed stares at me, his brown eyes unyielding. His only response is a curt nod.
“Leed…” my voice trails off. I don’t recognize him.
“Return to your knitting. Sit here willingly while I am away and we will have no need for restraints.”
My throat is thick as I try to swallow. I step away from him, needing space. “I just…”
Leed makes his way to the kitchen, pulling a length of cord from one of the drawers. He turns to me, eyebrows raised. “Emeline?”
I stumble back, seating myself and picking the blanket back up. My hands are shaking so badly I struggle to work my knitting needles.
Leed props himself against the wall, cord in hand, watching me. The silence thickens the air, making it even harder to breathe.
My song is only a whisper at first. I’m not sure if it’s more for me or Leed, but my music has always calmed him in hot-tempered moments. “Cat mint and silver, iron and rose. One gather little. Two gather little. This, that, and those.”
Some of the tension in Leed’s shoulders loosens. The creases of his face soften. If I can calm him enough to see reason, maybe he’ll let me leave.
“Lillies and jewels, candles and geese. One gather little. Two gather little. This, that, and these.”
Leed takes a step toward me, a smile curling up against his strong jaw. A glazed shimmer has fallen across his gaze.
“Leed—”
A knock at the front door startles me so badly, I drop my yarn. It rolls across the floor, only stopping its unraveling when it hits the tip of Leed’s boot. He kicks it away and opens the door.
After a few hushed words are exchanged, he turns back to me.
“Do not leave this home, Emeline. There will be consequences.” The door slams behind him.
Breath rushes from me. My next inhale is jagged and full of emotion.
Tears drop onto my unfinished blanket. What was that?
That wasn’t the Leed I know. Fear and shame twist inside me.
I search for courage beneath the stewing emotions, but do not find it.
Instead I do as I’m told. I sit, wait, and eventually turn in for the night.
My sheets are scratchy, as if even they have turned ill will on me in response to my cowardice. Should I have fought harder to stand up for myself? I was caught off guard. Leed has never treated me in such a way.
I hear the voices of the others even before Leed kicks in our front door. I jump from bed, meeting him as he reaches our room.
He’s sweating profusely and there is blood on his torn white tunic. A small golden emblem sits pinned to his chest. A simple triangle with three small circles surrounding it.
“Are you injured?”
“The blood spilled belongs to the wicked. Come. We make for the western woods. Now.” He barks the command. No, no, not again.
Fists bang on doors and voices shout orders as the rest of the town is awoken.
I notice more pins glinting off of tunics and trousers that I assume belong to additional members of the Lamb’s Golden Light.
They gather everyone, ushering them to the woods.
I didn’t even have time to properly dress.
But I’m not the only one in my night attire.
“Who is it? Who will die in the woods tonight? Leed—who?” My whisper is frantic.
What if it’s someone else close to me? I think of Estie and Fran.
My gaze whips from side to side, seeking out my friends.
I spot Estie first; her fair hair makes her stand out in the crowd.
Her eyes meet mine. I see every ounce of my own terror and anxiety reflected in her sapphire gaze.
A teensy bit of relief eases the trembling of my limbs.
When I finally spot Fran, all of that relief vanishes.
Fran stands atop a barrel, a hanging rope tied around her neck. And she’s not alone. Edith, Catherine, Gail, Mary, Anna. They’re lined up, barrels rocking with the harsh trembling of their bodies. Six girls. Six.
They’re in better shape than Alesia was. Bloody noses and black eyes, but no broken jaws that I can see. Someone moves behind each, roughly sheering the hair from their heads.
All of them sob, except for Fran. Her gaze is distant, the light already gone from her eyes. She doesn’t even react as Reverend Statton mounts the platform.
“Evil has spread through this town like a plague. A sickness. A wickedness.” Spittle flies from his mouth. For the briefest moment I think the tip of a forked tongue flicks forward. “These women were caught colluding in the night. Practicing witchcraft.”
They cry out, defending themselves. Their voices trample one another and no distinct words can be heard. The message is clear nonetheless. We’re innocent.
“Members of the Lamb’s Golden Light found them practicing their dark magic and dragged them here to face justice.”
The crowd cheers. I peer around in disbelief. Are they not horrified by the scene unfolding before us? What has gotten into people?
Several fights break out. I recognize many of the women’s loved ones.
One by one, brothers, fathers, friends, and husbands are all arrested by men wearing the unique golden pins.
Leed said Reverend Statton selected a handful, but I see more than a few sporting the mark of the Lamb’s Golden Light.
The crowd has thinned significantly by the time all those protesting the hangings have been hauled away.
“We wasted not a moment bringing them here. Under Itrimort’s watchful eyes, they will pay for their sins.”
A collective cheer booms from all around me. Fists pump the air. Torches wave. “Hang them!” “Kill the witches!” Has everyone lost their mind? Those sobbing women aren’t witches. This has spiraled out of control so fast, my head is spinning.
This time, I don’t watch the girls as they die.
My gaze is fixed on Reverend Statton. Brown eyes shift.
As he watches the hangings, a luminous yellow overtakes his irises and whites.
It’s so inhuman, so unnatural, that it makes me physically recoil.
Leed’s hand around my upper arm is all that keeps me from sprinting away.
Those around me whoop as the final barrel is kicked free.
When Reverend Statton looks back to the crowd, his eyes are again brown.
I don’t need to look to know that the women are all dead. I can see their bare feet swinging in my peripherals.
This is too much.
I’m drowning in the sea of cheers and praises. Suffocating in the intoxicating cloud of enjoyment spilling from so many. They’re inebriated with the darkness. High off the thrill of false consequences and their penalties. I can’t breathe.
Wrenching free from Leed’s hold, I break away from the crowd. I run, wishing I’d been able to don my boots before being roughly ushered to the woods. I run until the creaking of the ropes and the chanting crowd disappear behind me. I run until the torchlights vanish and I’m plunged into darkness.
My footing fails when I cross a fallen tree, shrouded by the night. I tumble head over foot, landing on my back with the breath knocked out of me.
“Emeline!” Leed’s voice follows me through the forest.
I rise, fighting through my tight lungs, sucking in a single breath before Leed catches me by the arm and hauls me backward. My scream is one of anger and anguish.
He shakes my shoulders. “Calm yourself. What will others think of this reaction? You will be seen in sympathy with the witches.”
“They aren’t witches!”
Leed is forceful as he slams my back against a nearby tree.
“Quiet that wicked tongue. Those aren’t your words, Emeline.”
“It’s not right. My friends…” The words blubber out of me between sobs. I fight against him. He pins his body weight against mine.
“Calm, Emeline. Shhh. Calm yourself.”
Something hard presses against my stomach. Realization has me screeching out a sound of absolute disgust. I shove Leed away. “Why are you hard?”
Leed’s hand is quick to cover the front of his trousers. “There is such excitement tonight. It cannot be helped.”
“You find this exciting? They were murdered. My friends, your neighbors! And you’re aroused? You’re sick!” I shove at his chest. My disgust overflows. I spit on the ground, hoping to quell some of my overpowering nausea.
“And you would turn down your fiancé in a time of need due to female hysteria? An overly sensitive constitution? It is your duty to fulfill my needs.”
“I don’t want anything to do with you, you sick bastard.”
Leed’s voice drops, becoming dangerously low. “Careful. Reverend Statton has given me a promotion within the Lamb’s Golden Light. What will he say when he learns you’ve taken such a tone with his new Chosen Shepherd?”
“And why would he promote you to such a position?” Dread sinks its claws in between my ribs, puncturing my lungs and halting my breaths. “What hast thou done, Leed?”
Darkness drenches his masculine features, twisting them. “It was I who discovered the secret meeting. This victory belongs to us.”
Something overtakes me. Rage cracks my bones open, spilling out in all directions, burning through the shell of silence I’ve hidden within for most of my life. Grabbing a broken tree branch from the ground, I swing it. Leed is knocked flat on his back when the wood connects with his cheek.
The moment he’s down, I run. What the hell did I just do? Racing through the trees, I head toward home. A few feet away from my front door, I stop. What am I doing? I can’t go home. Leed will come for me. And after what I just did…
Come on, Emeline. Use your head. Where can I hide that no one will look? I have my friends. But their fiancés are all close to Leed. I can’t trust his friends. The woods aren’t safe, either. I don’t know my way around. I need someplace secure, familiar, but empty of people.
The red X painted on Alesia’s front door catches my eye. She won’t be there. She’s still strung up in the hanging tree, now joined by six of our friends. No one will step foot in a witch’s house. It’s perfect.
I sneak over as best as I can. I’m an honest woman. Sneaking around is not something I have a lot of practice with. But a new layer of me has emerged, one that will do things, be things I’ve never been before. A survivor. A fighter.
Crouching before the door, I sweep my surroundings once, twice—no one has returned from the hangings. The one thing that can ruin my plan is if someone sees me go inside and tells the others.
The front door is unlocked. Did Alesia forget to lock it the day she chose to out Reverend Statton to the town? Was her mind too full of the horrible truths she was soon to speak? My chest aches for her as I slip inside and latch the door behind me.
A soft meow has me crying out in surprise. The small black cat peers out at me from a doorway. Poor thing has probably been alone since Alesia’s death.
“Come here, it’s alright.” I drop to my knees, holding my hand out.
The sweet little cat runs forward, rubbing against my fingers affectionately.
“Are you hungry?” I hunt around for cat food. I’ve never owned a pet. What do cats usually eat? Rats? Snakes? I don’t have either of those handy. I settle on a jar of salted fish.
The little cat gobbles it down. With Alesia gone, it’s all alone. “Who will look after you?” His quick meow makes me release a sad laugh. “I can barely take care of myself right now.”
His longer meow makes me sigh.
“Alright. I’ll find a way.”
I spend the rest of the night on the couch with the cat curled up in my lap.
I’m too anxious and afraid to sleep. By the time the sun rises, I’ve come up with a plan.