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  I clenched my eyes shut, my resolve wavering. I hadn’t expected this, hadn’t planned on saving anybody but myself and Luke and Mike. But I knew I wouldn’t leave her behind now. I couldn’t.

  Twenty-Six

  “Rebekah.”

  The name floated through the air, but I didn’t register it as my own. Joseph stood up and backed out of his own pew before motioning for me to get up.

  “Dee, go,” he whispered.

  Elijah’s hand was outstretched in an act of kindness, but his eyes promised retribution should I do anything to step out of my role. My feet felt like lead as I climbed the steps, my eyes never meeting his. He grasped my shoulders as I reached him and turned me around to face the congregation.

  I looked to the back of the room, where three large wooden crosses hung above the entrance. A trio of silver bowls—not unlike the one I’d seen overflowing with my own blood—sat atop a table near the door.

  My eyes flicked to the words inscribed on Elijah’s podium. Past, present, and future. I wasn’t a particularly religious person. The way I saw it, God had given up on me the day I was born. But after suffering through a few masses with the Hoopers, even I knew that those words referred to more than verb tense. They referred to the three divisions of time, and sometimes to prophecies.

  Prophecies.

  I closed my eyes and reopened them, hoping that things would look different, that I wouldn’t be staring at an entire room filled with the number three.

  I swiveled around to face the candles flickering behind me. Three separate and distinct flames danced in and out of each other’s paths. I stiffened as the final realization slammed into me. There were three of us stuck here. Three of us who were supposed to be on a three-day trip.

  And tomorrow … tomorrow would be day three.

  I was going crazy. I had to be, because the thoughts racing through my mind were completely illogical. Impossible. Luke’s obsession with the number three had nothing to do with what was happening. Nothing.

  Elijah was still talking, his not-so-gentle squeeze of my hand reminding me to stay in the game.

  Most of the congregation was on their feet, clapping. I hadn’t heard Elijah’s introduction, but judging from his followers’ reactions, they obviously approved of me. Of course they would. He could tell them all to drink battery acid and they would blindly oblige.

  The applause died out and Joseph sat back down, mouthing the words “It’s all right” to me as he tried for a reassuring look. I didn’t need reassurance, but the fact that he thought I did had me taking a second look at Elijah.

  Elijah’s brother—the sheriff this time—stood up and made his way to the back of the church. He collected three silver bowls and a long white scarf before making his way back toward me.

  Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion, each movement around me deliberate and methodical. The three empty bowls were placed on the altar, and then Elijah carefully undid the button on the cuff of his shirt, his eyes never leaving mine as he rolled up his right sleeve.

  “Smile, my love. This is the most important day of your life,” Elijah said as he grabbed my arm and pushed the sleeve of my shirt to my elbow.

  The most important day of my life? I surveyed the faces staring at me. They all looked expectant, full of joy and promise. “I don’t understand,” I murmured.

  Elijah’s hand lingered in the crook of my arm, his fingers tracing the veins leading to by wrist. With a nod to his brother, he grabbed onto my hand and turned it so my palm lay face up inside his. “Jared, would you please?”

  His brother placed the white scarf over my forearm and wrapped it around twice, attaching the other end to Elijah the same way.

  Elijah took one large step back toward the altar, our bound wrists forcing me to move with him. Then he leaned in, his free hand cupping the side of my cheek. “Today I will tie you to me in every way possible.”

  I shook my head, the horror of what he was saying settling in. “You said this was about me meeting your family, about introducing me to your followers,” I choked out.

  “I am introducing you … as my wife.”

  I went to yank my hand free. “Don’t,” Elijah said. “Re-member, it won’t be you who suffers, but your friends.”

  He side-stepped me over to where his other brother was shifting the bowls, aligning them perfectly beneath our bound wrists. It wasn’t until I saw the knife that everything finally clicked into place.

  There weren’t going to be any traditional wedding vows. That would be too easy. Too normal. No, Elijah was going to blood-oath us; slit both our palms and mingle our blood so that our spirits, our essences, combined.

  Terror took over as I fought back the urge to scream. Elijah placed a hand on my shoulder, gently stroking it like I was a skittish animal. He was fully enthroned in his role now—the charming, kind, strong-hearted leader of this great community.

  “Easy, Rebekah,” he soothed.

  The gentle tone of his voice had me shaking in fear, and I lost it. I jerked my wrist so hard that the fabric tore in two, the sheer force sending me stumbling backward. One of his brothers caught me and eased me upright, then gently nudged me in Elijah’s direction.

  Elijah’s eyes were a shade of deadly I’d never seen before. His face was contorted, twisted and torn between anger and staying in character. It took him a second to regain his composure, but he finally did, the charming façade sliding back into place.

  “I know you are frightened,” he said loudly enough for his followers to hear. “But you are amongst family now. There is nothing to fear.”

  He circled his hand around the back of my neck and leaned in, his hushed words whispering across my ear. “Shall we try this again without the theatrics, Rebekah?”

  I felt his thumb gently caress the side of my neck. It was a suggestive gesture, one Luke had done to me a thousand times. One that always ended in the same way—me on my back with Luke smiling down from above.

  I smiled, and then knew in that instant that Elijah thought he’d won. His bad. “I’d rather lie with the devil than ever, ever, let you touch me.”

  Elijah chuckled and dug his fingers into the back of my neck, dragging me closer until my lips met his. “Keep it up, little girl, and that’s exactly who you will be sleeping with.”

  Twenty-Seven

  Some things you don’t need to see to believe because deep down, in the very core of your being, you know they’re true. And I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Elijah wasn’t simply capable of sending me to the devil … he was the devil.

  His grip on my neck loosened, and his hand moved to my waist. Pinpricks of sweat beaded up on his forehead, a sign that, if nothing else, I was at least making things difficult for him. Good. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

  “Again,” Elijah said to his brother as he refastened the scarf to my wrist. It was shorter now, nearly half the length, so the binding was tighter.

  “Hold still,” he said.

  The velvet nature of his voice was gone, his words curt and full of warning. The sharp glint of the blade sent ripples of fear through me, and I searched the crowd for Joseph. I may have blamed him for everything that had happened … was still happening. But in the end, he was the closest thing I had to an ally in here, and I needed him.

  “Rebekah?” Elijah’s gaze swept between Joseph and me. He’d seen my silent plea for help. “You can’t be that naïve. You think I don’t see the way you look at him? The way he looks at you? I know why he left that day. Know exactly why he dragged you back here with him. He can’t save you or Eden. He doesn’t have that kind of power. Only I do.”

  Turning toward his followers, Elijah cleared his throat and announced, “The rite to perform the marriage ceremony is reserved for those of the highest realm—myself and my brothers. This ritual has ensured the purity of our bloodline, not
only by binding wife to husband, but also by binding the couple to this community.”

  Hell no, I thought to myself. Elijah wasn’t interested in binding husband to wife. The only thing he was interested in was binding everybody in this town to him.

  “Today we break from that tradition,” he continued, and I shifted my weight, wondering what he had in store for me now. “Today my son, Joseph, the future of our prophecy, of Purity Springs, will have the honor of performing this most sacred of our rituals.

  The color drained from Joseph’s face as he rose slowly from his pew and walked toward us.

  “Please,” I choked out. “Let one of your brothers do it.”

  Elijah placed a finger to my lips, silencing me. “You think he won’t hurt you, that it is you who controls him?” he asked. “Joseph is my son. My son. He may have flashes of his mother’s weak will, but he was raised by me. Molded by me. You’d be wise to remember that.”

  My heart stopped as I processed his words. If I couldn’t trust Joseph, then I was screwed. Literally screwed.

  “On the other hand,” Elijah continued, his hand brushing away the tears streaming down my face, “I’m not the monster you’re making me out to be. Should you cooperate, I’ll give you an hour with your friend. An hour to say goodbye to the boy who drove in here with you. Perhaps such a kindness on my part will enable you to put your past behind you for good.”

  Hope surged through me. I didn’t care that Elijah only offered because he needed me to cooperate or because his precious followers believed I was the eager virgin-bride he’d made me out to be. All that mattered was that I was going to get to see Luke.

  “Do you understand what I am proposing, Rebekah?” he asked.

  I swallowed down a strangled sob and nodded. It took all of two seconds for me to extend my arm and accept his hideous offer. An ounce of my blood for an hour with Luke, for the possibility of escaping … yeah, I’d do that.

  Elijah grasped my hand and pressed our forearms together. “Are we ready?

  “I’m ready,” I said, and the congregation rose to their feet, all eyes watching him. Watching me.

  “Do not be afraid, Rebekah. With the Lord’s help, my strong and capable hands will guide us both through this union.”

  A confident smirk played across Elijah’s lips as he took the knife from his brother’s hand and held it out for Joseph to take. Joseph hesitated, his hands trembling as he reached for the blade.

  “Shallow, Joseph,” Elijah said. “We are not trying to cleanse, merely bind.”

  Joseph laid the blade across his father’s palm and I willed him to slice deep, to spill every last drop of Elijah’s disgusting blood. He carefully drew the blade back, a thin trail of red welling up against his father’s skin.

  Elijah smiled in approval and fisted his hand, the motion producing a small stream of blood that trickled down his hand to where our wrists were bound together. The blood was so dark it looked like ink, like the purplish black of the night sky before a storm. I fixed my eyes on it as it flowed, the warmth of it horrifying and nauseating.

  I held back a whimper as the blade touched my skin. I could see Elijah’s blood tainting the metal, warm and wet against the palm of my hand.

  “I’m sorry,” Joseph whispered, but I didn’t respond. Sorry wasn’t going to do either of us any good now.

  Blinking back tears, I looked at Joseph and silently gave him my permission. He needed to do this. For Luke. For Mike. For Eden, he needed to do this.

  Twenty-Eight

  I forced myself to stay silent and remain expressionless as Joseph drew the knife across from my skin. I could feel him watching me, his desperation building as he tried to make eye contact, but I kept my eyes on the floor, not capable of handling his guilt.

  Crimson rose to the surface and began spilling out, mingling with Elijah’s blood before dripping down onto the ground. The cut Joseph made was small, only about an inch in length, but it hurt like hell.

  “Can you feel that, Rebekah? It’s the union. The union of our blood and our spirits becoming one.”

  Elijah flexed his hand one last time, sending another trickle of blood running down my wrist.

  “The bowl, please,” Elijah said as he lifted his arm. The motion dragged mine upward with his. Joseph moved instantly, grabbing the largest bowl and placing it beneath our joined wrists. Drops of blood collected in its shiny metal bottom, the barely audible sound exploding through my ears.

  Elijah began slowly unwrapping our arms. He laid the red-stained scarf in a second, more ornate bowl, and a fleeting thought crossed my mind. Would he keep this little memento of our marriage? Was his plan to bring it out on our first anniversary, like most people did with the top of their wedding cake?

  “Holy water,” Elijah said.

  Joseph handed him the crystal bottle, and Elijah poured it into the last of the silver bowls. He took a clean towel from Jared and soaked it through before pressing it to my arm. I winced at the pain and he gentled his movements, a tiny smile parting his lips.

  “You have done well,” he soothed, applying pressure to my bleeding hand. He turned to Joseph, and for a split second I swore I saw pride in Elijah’s eyes. “Excellent job, my son. If you’d like to make the announcement, we’ll adjourn. It’s time for Rebekah to meet my following.”

  “What?” I asked, anger flaming into my cheeks. “But you promised me that right after—”

  “I’m a man of my word, Rebekah. I said I’d let you see your friend, and I will, but your new family comes first.”

  I shook my head numbly. Elijah was lying. If I didn’t do something soon, he’d never take me to see Luke.

  “No!” The word escaped my mouth before I could stop it, and Joseph’s head swiveled in my direction, pleading with me not to cause a scene. “I won’t meet your congregation or play your wife until you let me see him.”

  Hushed voices whispered through the crowd. Good. Let them see a bit of my anger. Maybe that would jolt them out of their Elijah-worshiping trance.

  “Fair enough,” Elijah said before turning toward the crowd. “My wife and I need some time alone. As you can imagine, this has all been quite overwhelming for her, and she needs a few moments to collect herself.”

  His announcement was met with a chorus of “Of course,” every face smiling in acknowledgment. God, he had them all.

  “If you all kindly adjourn to the community center, my wife and I will be along shortly.”

  I stood there next to him, his fingers wrapped tightly around mine until the last person cleared the doorway, and then gave him my demand. “I want to see him. Now.”

  Elijah’s gentleness faded, pure rage burrowing through his eyes. He brought his hand down hard across my left cheek and I staggered backward, the sting bringing tears to my eyes.

  Joseph caught me and ran his hand down my reddened face, gently wiping away my tears before easing me behind him. He glared at his father. “Don’t you ever hit her again.”

  “She’s my wife, Joseph. I’ll do with her as I please, and you will not interfere.”

  “Please, I’m sorry,” I said, trying to calm them both down for fear that Elijah would change his mind about my seeing Luke. “I’ll do as you ask, always, but I want to see him first, say goodbye.”

  I focused all of my energy on my tone, hoping Elijah would buy my fake apology. I didn’t mean a word of it, but Elijah was a madman, and until I learned how to play his game, I was as good as dead.

  Twenty-Nine

  I ended up in the same room I’d just left, but my clothes and the papers I’d been forced to memorize were gone. It was dark out now. No stars. Not even a moon to cast the slightest glow through the window.

  I half expected to find Luke bound and gagged, bleeding from a crisscross of cleansing wounds. But he wasn’t there, and my heart sank.

  “Where is h
e?” I asked, wondering if I’d been played.

  “Patience, Rebekah. He’ll be here soon.”

  I took a seat on the bed and scooted back until I hit the wall. The bed dipped next to me, and I looked up and saw Joseph inching closer. His eyes were glued to my reddened cheek, his hands trembling with rage.

  It was deathly quiet, none of us uttering a single word. The creak of the bedsprings as Joseph moved, the whine of the heat vent above me clicking on, and the soft rhythmic tapping of Elijah’s foot against the floor put me on edge.

  The door finally opened and two identical faces came into view—James and Abram—each struggling with the person they held between them. Blindfolded and bound, the person was putting up a fight, twisting and kicking as he cursed incoherently behind the gag.

  I knew from the voice alone that it wasn’t Luke. It was Mike.

  “Oh my God!” I gasped as I stood up and quickly scanned Mike for any injuries. He looked tired and bruised and there was a patch of dried blood on the corner of his mouth. But he was fighting hard, and that meant he was still strong.

  The excitement of seeing Mike quickly faded, leaving behind anger. “You promised me Luke!”

  Elijah vacated his seat and motioned to his nephews to drop Mike there. “I promised you could see your friend. I never said which one.”

  I could’ve killed Elijah right there—the hell with my life, with Mike’s and Luke’s—had Joseph not stopped me. His hands circled around my waist, my feet leaving the floor as he spun me around and crushed my body to his chest.

  “Don’t,” Joseph whispered into my ear, his arms squeezing me in place as I tried to wiggle free. “Stop fighting me, stop fighting him and calm down.”

  Behind those words was a reminder that I needed to play along so we could get Elijah out of the room. I’d try. For Mike or Luke … for Eden, I’d try. “Okay,” I said, and Joseph put me down, keeping his arm around my waist in case I lost it again.