Chapter 17 Azrael
Azrael
It was interesting, this new development, but it wouldn’t detract from the plan.
I was sure Alaric wouldn’t find anything I hadn’t already, but I would let he and Scarlett play their little game. Perhaps something in Poppy’s past would send up warning signals to her. Something I wouldn’t consider threatening being me.
“Do you really think she should be doing this when she feels like that?”
“It’s the others that have issues controlling their emotions, not us,” I replied, stepping into the room after her.
“It’s not a bad thing, you know, not being able to control how you feel.”
It was in my line of work.
Scarlett walked up to Mrs. Bastrom slowly, her steps light, her movements as fluid as a dancer. The woman had a bag over her head, and she was begging to know who was there, but the sounds were so redundant, it was easy to block out.
“Should she be wearing her mask?” Red asked when I didn’t respond.
Scarlett walked behind Mrs. Bastrom and found my eyes, a deep, chilling fire in her own. “No,” I answered. “The woman won’t live to see the outside of this room.”
She grabbed the top of the canvas bag and ripped it off, Mrs. Bastrom jerking, her eyes instantly finding mine and widening. “Mr. Thorin,” she breathed out. “What in God’s name are you doing?” she shrieked.
I lifted my eyes to Scarlett’s. I wasn’t going to speak a word if she didn’t sign one to speak.
She flexed her hand around the blade and rolled her shoulders again before dancing around Mrs. Bastrom’s chair, that lilt she so adored in my voice seeping into her motions, her smile, her eyes.
The second the woman laid eyes on Scarlett, her expression dried, her withered face twisting. “You,” she seethed. “I should have known you were behind this. You…you impure whore. A harlot. They should have stitched a red ‘A’ on all of your clothes,” she spat.
Scarlett straightened at that and turned to me, a flicker of light in the darkness plaguing her eyes.
“Seriously?” Red asked. “Does she know what that represents?”
It reminded her of Alice, although she was my whore, and my name did start with the same letter. Perhaps another brand was in order.
Scarlett turned back to Mrs. Bastrom, paused, and lifted her dagger, inspecting it for a moment before turning back to the woman and looking her over.
“Three and a half months spent with him, and you still haven’t learned to speak?” she scoffed. “If I had been Garrett, I would have accepted pennies on the dollar to get rid of you.”
That’s because the lust her husband felt for her would never compare to the lust he felt for what was mine.
Scarlett stepped forward and slammed the blade into her thigh, a scream ripping from Mrs. Bastrom’s throat, but Scar wasn’t in the mood to wait for the screams to settle.
She snapped her fingers inches from Mrs. Bastrom’s nose, causing the old woman to flinch as she panted through her gritted teeth, sweat pouring from her brow.
Scarlett straightened, signing to her.
Mrs. Bastrom shook her head, looking at me and back. “What is she saying?”
“I would have put a knife through your temple and delivered you to your husband’s porch,” I told her. “It’s a compliment that you think I’m still worth money because you’re not even worth the fuel it took to bring you here.”
Her pale face turned a sickly green as her eyes turned back to Scarlett who was smiling sharply, proud of herself.
“Your husband couldn’t control himself, so he requested a private session, forced me on my knees, and shoved his cock into my mouth,” I sang as Scarlett signed.
“The laws of your church state that I must do everything in my power to remain pure, but they also state that I must do everything in my power to please the Leaders. If your husband was unsatisfied, I was whipped. If I became impure, I was whipped. You were never a Favorite, you were just a rich woman who was unable to satisfy your own husband, so you fell into a religion that allowed him to get his satisfaction through younger, prettier girls. The books they handed us were written in a way that allowed our owners to punish us for anything and everything we did or said. The system was designed with the rich in mind. No matter what we did or how we acted, we would always be punished.”
She was panting, blood soaking into her skirt.
“That’s because you are less than us,” she snarled.
“Breeders. The only purpose God gave you when he allowed your mother to bare you was to serve. Why else would he not bless you with abundance? Your only worth is determined by how many children you give the wealthy.”
She laughed, the sound clearly unsettling Mrs. Bastrom. “Ask Azrael what my purpose is now,” I repeated.
Her eyes flicked to mine as Scarlett walked around her, running her fingers through her hair, toying with her like a cat would a mouse.
I lifted my chin. “There was a plague in the bible where God was so angry at the Egyptians for keeping slaves that he started cursing the land. Among those plagues was one where all the rivers ran red. The water turning to blood, polluting everything. We are that plague, but rather than turning the water itself red, we will simply fill it with your blood. After all, we cannot perform miracles in the same sense He can, but we can sure mimic it.”
Mrs. Bastrom shook her head, clear fear in her eyes. “You can’t kill everyone,” she breathed out. “There are so many of us, you will never get us all.”
Scarlett spun back on me. “Can we tell her about The Family now?”
I considered it, but it didn’t take long to decide. She wasn’t leaving this place, and Bishop had already gone over her with a fine-toothed comb, checking for earpieces or trackers. Anything that would allow the information in this room to get back to them. There was nothing.
They viewed her as just as worthless as the Favorites.
I nodded.
Scarlett danced back in front of her, signing her words.
“The Family will,” I repeated.
Her eyes narrowed and she shook her head. “No, no, the Elders took care of them.”
Had they? Is that what Garrett told them? A lie simply because we hadn’t done anything since the compound. So pathetic.
Scarlett straightened, her hands working quickly.
“Surprise,” I sang. “The Family is we and we are The Family. You let a snake into the garden, Mrs. Bastrom. All these years and not one of you suspected that your dear transporter was one of them.”
Her eyes widened, the terror growing. “Why would we ever have suspected that?”
Scarlett straightened, considering her words before signing again.
“Thomas was right when he suggested going after them. Leaving it to the Elders was a mistake. Nobody even knows who they are, except me, and there are so many of them. Your branches are closed, Mrs. Bastrom, you’ve all congregated in the seven main churches.
How do you know there aren’t other snakes planted among your flock?
How do you know that there aren’t more waiting to strike?
Tick tock goes the clock, Bastrom, even for the wives.
Eat the rich, and without a hitch, the walls will tumble down. ”
I couldn’t help but smile as I said the words. What a perfect little sinner she was.
Scarlett jerked the blade out of her leg and slammed it into the other one, Mrs. Bastrom’s screams filling the room.
She giggled, dancing around her.
“Was that a curse word I heard?” I repeated. “We don’t curse, remember? It’s against the law.” She ripped the dagger out again, ran her finger up the blade, and painted lines from either corner of her mouth, dragging them up towards her temples, widening her smile.
It had me wondering how much she had liked the scars Olivia had been given. A permanent cheshire smile.
Scarlett’s smile widened, the blood dripping from the addition, and I felt my cock throb in need. She looked so fucking divine dancing around the woman in an almost psychotic state. She was drunk on this, I realized. Drunk on the feeling of her first true kill.
“Please,” Mrs. Bastrom pleaded, finding my eyes. “Please, I was forced into this. I had no idea what the church was when we joined. By the time I realized, it was too late. Please.”
Scarlett stopped again, slamming the blade into Mrs. Bastrom’s thigh, a scream ripping from her teeth.
“You’ve been a Leader’s wife for three years, a Pillar’s wife for far longer.
You’ve been a member of the church since my mother gifted me to Thomas.
I remember because Mr. Bastrom, my mother, and Pastor Master’s got into a fight because he wanted me.
He always wanted me. Even when he was just a Pillar, he was always trying to touch me, saying my name while they all pulled their cocks in the pews,” I went on, watching as her features shifted, becoming more manic, feeling that psychosis start to fill my own veins.
“I was 12 and a half when I first heard him call my name. He was in the first pew, I remember.”
Scarlett laughed, but it was detached, an echo of an echo of her real laugh. Something heard only in the dead of the night in the dark woods when all the other animals went silent.
“‘That’s right, Scarlett, such a pretty little thing, such a young, tight, little girl’.”
Tick tock tick tock.
“I remember when he got closer. I wasn’t allowed to look up, remember, that’s part of the rules.
Thomas was there, he should have stopped him, but he didn’t.
He let your husband get all the way up to the stage.
I felt his hand on my ankle, I jerked back, terrified because even though they told me what my purpose was, I was still just a girl. Just a girl. Just a girl.”
“Azrael,” I heard Poppy warn.
But my vision had tunneled. Besides Scarlett and Mrs. Bastrom, there was only black. Only the roaring of the sea.
“The clothes were so tight, so uncomfortable, they rubbed me raw any time I moved, but no one cared.”
She ripped the blade out and slammed it down into Mrs. Bastrom’s other thigh.
She tried to scream but Scarlett stepped forward and slapped her, raking her nails against Mrs. Bastrom’s skin.
“Thomas shoved me forward,” she went on as Mrs. Bastrom whimpered, blood dripping from the new wound.
“I stumbled right into Mr. Bastrom’s arms. His cock touched my thigh and I jerked back again, trying to right myself, trying to be good.
I had to be good or else I would get punished.
I cried, but they had already stolen my voice so I remained silent, even though I was begging them to stop on the inside.
I was just a girl. Just a girl. Just a girl. ”
She ripped the knife out and slammed it back into her thigh, blood pouring from the wounds. Mrs. Bastrom didn’t have much longer to live.
“Thomas finally told him to step back, and he did, just enough to where he was completely out of my line of view, but he still moaned my name, still called me ‘pretty little thing,’ still said that I was his ‘tight girl’. He coveted me. I was what he wanted. I was what they all wanted. All of them. They never wanted a Favorite more than they wanted me. I was the Chosen One, the Blessed One. I was coveted so much that even when Thomas told me I was going to Absolution, he never sent me because they would miss me so much, and look,” she laughed, blood on her hands, her eyes wild.
“Look how they crumbled the moment I left. How many girls became impure when Azrael unlocked my cage? How many girls did they send to that place?”
She was pale, her eyes wandering aimlessly, her head rolling.
Scarlett rushed forward, grabbing her jaw, digging her claws into her face.
“How many?” I asked, knowing Scarlett was asking the same question in her head.
“They had to stop sending them until there was more room,” Mrs. Bastrom replied, her voice thick. “There was no more room. We had a second auction, we needed it. There was no more room. Please,” she begged, tears streaming down her face. “Please, I don’t want to die.”
Scarlett jerked her hand away and stood, cocking her head to one side. “Why?” I repeated. “Afraid to find out your god isn’t real?” She jerked the knife out of her thigh and walked slowly around her, trailing the tip across Mrs. Bastrom’s body, the back of the chair.
Scarlett’s eyes lifted to mine, telling me the words she couldn’t sign.
I lifted my chin, my heart slamming against my ribs, my cock so hard, I could feel it rubbing against my thigh. “Don’t worry, the only god you’ll be meeting is the one under our feet.”
Scarlett wrapped her hand into the woman’s hair, jerked her head back, and, without breaking eye contact with me, she slid the dagger across her throat, cutting so deep, her blade scraped against the spine.