Creed Page 9

  “I don’t know … things. And I didn’t want it to be this way,” Joseph whispered, his attention darting nervously be-tween me and the door. “There wasn’t a choice.”

  “Who are you trying to kid? You had a dozen other choices. Dozens! And you made the wrong one.”

  “I made the only choice that would save my sister.”

  “Whatever,” I said, completely uninterested in debating the morality of kidnapping. “Where are Luke and Mike?” I hoped they were in the next town by now, telling the police all about the Purity Springs and their community of deranged freaks.

  Joseph’s voice was so low, so quiet I had to strain to make out his words. “I already told you, they’re not here.”

  I racked my brain for any bit of useless information, anything that might help me get out or make contact with Luke. I knew what to do if the man with razors on his hands attacked me in my dreams. I could tell you which way to run if an awkward kid rose from the lake, fully grown and wearing a hockey mask. I was even prepared to get off the damn plane when seven random kids from some stupid French class went nuts over the fear of it crashing. But I had no idea what to do when faced with a self-proclaimed prophet and his entire batshit town.

  The sound of a door opening and closing outside my room interrupted my thoughts, and Joseph shoved me toward the bed. “Take your shoes off and get back into bed,” he hissed. “Now!”

  I half-debated staying right there to meet his father, but I didn’t get a chance. Joseph shoved me again, harder this time, and I fell onto the bed. I fought him as he went to pull the quilt over me. Eventually he gave up and left me there, my shoes hanging off my feet, my legs tangled in the quilt.

  Sixteen

  The door swung open and a middle-aged man walked in. He was holding a tray of food and an oversized manila envelope. With a head of graying hair, glasses, and deep smile lines around his eyes, he looked like half the dads I’d seen at school. Just as benign, too.

  He closed the door quickly, pausing until Joseph took a step forward and bowed his head.

  “Father,” Joseph said, his voice hushed.

  I took a long look at Elijah Hawkins, then shook my head. This was the man Joseph had warned me about? The man who had abused children and murdered his own wife? It wasn’t possible. This guy looked like he was more likely to pack some lures and go fly-fishing than he was to lead a deadly cult.

  “Have a seat, son,” Elijah said, his voice deeper, louder than I expected. Setting the tray on the nightstand, he turned his gaze on me.

  He was studying me, his eyes lingering on my face before traveling downward. They stopped at my chest, then continued on to my waist and down my legs. In my panic, I’d only pulled the quilt halfway up my body, leaving my entire left leg uncovered, my shoelaces untied and dangling.

  “Going somewhere?” he asked, pointing at my foot.

  I stayed silent, refusing to acknowledge him. I wasn’t going to let this aging man wearing a plaid button-up shirt intimidate me. He was half the size of Luke and three times his age. No way could he be as strong or fast. Even with my arms bandaged and a vicious knot on my head, I could probably take him.

  “No sir, she wasn’t going anywhere,” Joseph answered for me. “I bled her for quite a while, so she’s still a little woozy. Plus, she’s too weak to make it far.”

  Joseph was talking fast, too fast, and Elijah held up a hand for him to stop. “I asked her, Joseph, not you.” His steely eyes focused on me again, lingering on my legs. I wished I’d opted for something a bit more unflattering than skinny jeans. Perhaps snow pants or a mangy pair of sweats.

  “What do you want from me?” I asked.

  Elijah inhaled loudly. “You know my wife died,” he started, and I nodded. “Joseph was understandably upset. No doubt felt as betrayed as I did.”

  “Betrayed?” I asked. I’d gotten that emotion from Joseph, but Elijah? He was the one who’d killed her.

  “Yes, betrayed. About my wife having to die, that is. I’ve given my life to this town, ensuring that the people under my care remain pure as I lead them in God’s path,” Elijah explained. “It’s been my duty, as it was my father’s and his father’s before that. We have kept this town innocent, safe from outside influences, for over a hundred and fifty years. Someday, that responsibility will be Joseph’s.”

  Not if Joseph had his way. From what he’d told me, he was only hanging around here long enough to grab his sister, then he was gone.

  “I have guided this town for nearly eighteen years, watched as we, as a community, have grown closer to God,” Elijah continued. “Never once did I complain or question His mission for me. So when I, a prophet who has selflessly given my life to the Lord’s work, was asked to sacrifice my own wife for the greater good, yes, I admit I felt betrayed.”

  Elijah smiled dryly, as if reliving a bittersweet memory. “Joseph is my son. My only son.” He sat down next to me on the bed and reached out to touch my calf. I went to pull away and he clamped his hand down on my ankle, holding me in place.

  I sat as still as I possibly could and tried to ignore the bile rising in my throat. The old man’s gaze followed the stroking path his fingers were making on my calf, and my heart hammered against my chest as his fingers slid upward. I glanced at Joseph, but he made no move to help.

  “I understand now, though. His plan all along was for me to lose my blessed wife so I could gain you. See, I need more children, more Hawkins sons to carry on our family’s legacy. And you, my dear, are going to give them to me.”

  Elijah’s words plowed through my brain with all the intensity of a raging fire. I didn’t know whether to laugh or scream at him. The complete sincerity in his voice made absolutely no sense.

  I stopped his hand short of my thigh and dug my nails into his palm. “Children? You actually think God gave me to you? You think I’m actually going to sleep with you? Have you lost your—”

  Joseph jumped up from his seat, the wooden chair he was sitting on crashing to the floor. His movements were forced, deliberate, like he’d stood up and purposefully kicked the chair over to get his father’s attention. Didn’t matter; it worked, and Elijah pulled his hand back, refocusing his glare on his son.

  “What has Joseph told you?” Elijah asked.

  I took a quick look at Joseph before I lied. “Nothing.”

  Elijah’s grin faded, leaving behind a cold expression. “I asked you to speak with her, Joseph.” There was a ring of disapproval there, one that promised retribution. “I expected her to be prepared, to have at least some knowledge of her place here.”

  “I spoke with her,” Joseph replied, and I racked my brain for any hint of that conversation. As hard as I tried, I got nothing. Joseph was lying.

  “But as I said,” Joseph continued, his eyes pleading with me to play along. “I purified her like you asked. She was confused when she finally came to; I think I bled her more thoroughly then I should have. I told her how important she was to us, but I don’t think she remembers any of it. Now that she is more alert, perhaps you can explain it to her.”

  Elijah nodded, and for a second I let myself believe he’d bought Joseph’s excuse.

  “I know it makes no sense to you now, but in time you’ll see the wisdom of what I say.” Elijah handed me the envelope, his fingers twisting the edge of the thick yellow paper as he spoke. “In time, you too will be made pure.”

  “What’s this?” I asked

  “This is you. Your new life. Past and present,” Elijah re-plied.

  He leaned back on the bed, a deep smile spreading across his face. I wanted to spit at him, to tell him that he was a psycho and that my life wasn’t going to include him or his crazy family. But I didn’t say any of that. Rather, I slid a finger beneath the flap of the envelope and pulled out the papers.

  Rebekah Hawkins, wife of Elijah Hawkins.

 
Seventeen years of age. Born in Purity Springs.

  Baptized into the Church of the Divine Light.

  Educated by the sole hand of Elijah Hawkins,

  secluded to preserve her purity.

  “I don’t get it,” I said, confused as to what any of this crap had to do with me.

  “Keep reading,” Elijah said, nudging the papers in my hand.

  Birth parents—Samuel and Abilene Smith.

  Sacrificed and martyred in the name of the Church.

  Brought forth as the divine wife of Elijah Hawkins this day, November 8th, the year of the Great Lord.

  I stopped reading and flicked my wrist to see my watch. Today was the eighth. The ninth was Sunday, the day the Hoopers were expecting me home.

  “Still not getting it,” I said again. “Why do I care about Rebekah Hawkins?”

  Elijah tapped the paper and then lifted my chin to meet his eyes. “Because as of today, you are Rebekah Hawkins.”

  Seventeen

  I yanked my chin out of Elijah’s grip, desperate to get away from him. His words held the promise of something more. The kind of something I wanted no part of.

  The papers fell from my hands and floated to the floor. The same trapped, helpless feeling I’d felt for so many years washed over me. I kept waiting for Joseph to do or say something … anything. He didn’t. He sat there with his gaze fixed on me in that same silent warning. The one that told me to keep my mouth shut and do as his father said.

  I went to get off the bed, but Elijah shifted with me, his body shadowing mine. He was close, so close. I told myself that if I could get my legs loose from the quilt, then I could kick him.

  I tore the quilt from my body and threw myself at Elijah, intent on clawing my way through him to get to the door. He caught me mid-strike, his hands banding around my upper arms. His breath was ragged, his grip growing tighter as he tried to hold my jerking body still.

  I saw Joseph out of the corner of my eye and tried to squeeze out the word “please.” Joseph’s eyes widened, and a low hiss of breath escaped his lips. But he didn’t move. He wasn’t going to help me. All he wanted was to get his sister out, and he didn’t care who he screwed over in the process.

  Elijah loosened his hold and blood rushed back into my tingling hands. When I didn’t come at him again, he let me go completely.

  “I understand that you’re confused and a bit scared about the path God has chosen for you. But I assure you that you are not alone. I am here to guide you, to teach you,” he said as he bent over to pick up the papers scattered across the floor. “It is time for you to listen, Rebekah. You’re going to read every word written here. You’re going to memorize them, because it is the only way to rid you of your past, of the life that has tainted you. This is your history now. Your rebirth. This is you.”

  Screw self-preservation. I had to know. “And if I don’t?”

  He laughed, a maniacal sound that had me wishing I’d kept my mouth shut. “You’ve seen too much of the outside world, my sweet girl. But have no fear, it only means I need to be overly sure that you are cleansed of the evil you were once immersed in. In time, you will come to rely upon my wisdom, understand my responsibilities, and accept my divine authority.”

  I shook my head; he hadn’t answered my question. “And. If. I. Don’t?”

  Elijah tossed out his hands, amused by my persistence. “You’ll find me to be peaceful man. We are a peaceful town. But as Joseph can tell you, I find that fear and pain work equally as well as reason. In a matter of days, you will come to see the truth of my words and embrace your new life, your salvation. If not … well, I’d hate for us to start our life together under those circumstances. And make no mistake about it, Rebekah. You now belong to me.”

  “I won’t stay,” I said, unsure of where that flash of courage came from. “You can’t keep me. I have a family that will come looking for me. Friends.” And Luke, I silently added.

  I wasn’t sure if the Hoopers counted as family, but I had a place to live, and people who liked having me around. I was almost a full person again, and I’d be damned if this man was going to take it away from me now.

  “Yes, friends. All right, we can play it that way. Joseph?” Elijah called, and Joseph took two steps toward his father as if he were a puppet and Elijah controlled his strings.

  “I’m not sure if my son has told you, but he has a younger sister,” Elijah said.

  “Eden,” I whispered.

  “Yes, Eden,” Elijah replied. “Joseph is quite fond of his sister. He takes on more responsibility for her than he should. He sees himself as her protector. My guess is he’ll do the same for you.”

  I had no clue what Elijah was getting at. I knew Joseph was hell-bent on getting his sister out, but he’d done absolutely nothing to help me. In fact, he’d done everything he could to trap me here, including slicing me open.

  “One of Joseph’s greatest strengths, what will make him such a great leader, is that he is a good judge of character,” Elijah said. “I’m presuming he’s figured out you have a soft side, one he’s depending on you to help him with Eden.”

  Joseph clenched his hands at his side, his gaze remaining steady and cool despite the revelation that Elijah apparently knew about his plotting. I stared at Joseph as he stood unblinking and still as a statue, wondering what he was thinking. Was he afraid? Pissed? I had no clue, but I had to hold on to the hope that the one thing he wasn’t was resigned.

  Elijah smiled, then turned his attention from Joseph to me. “If you give me any problem, if you so much as question your newfound role in Purity Springs, then I’m going to beat my son here to within an inch of his life. The pain will be so bad he’ll wish he were dead. But I won’t give him the mercy of death, not until he tells me where he’s stashed those two boys you’re with. And as for them … I’ll rid them from this earth rather than risk contaminating my town with their filth. Do you understand?”

  My breath caught in my throat as the truth bore into me. Elijah’s knowledge wasn’t restricted to Joseph’s plan to free Eden … he knew about Luke and Mike as well. He’d been aware of us from the very beginning.

  “I will remind you once more not to test me.” Elijah leaned in so that his breath whispered across mine as he spoke. “I assure you that you will not win. In the end, you’ll be sitting in exactly the same position as you are now, bound to me and this town. I’ll kill your two friends, Joseph too if I have to. But not you. You, I have plans for.”

  He pulled back and handed me the papers. “If you don’t believe me, ask Joseph. He will be happy to remind you exactly who I am and the respect I command. He’s got the scars to prove it.”

  I glanced at Joseph. He was standing there silent, his lips pressed into a thin, tight line. No wonder he seemed to get me. He was living my life. My old life. If I hadn’t been so scared, I would’ve laughed at the irony. Here I was, away on a weekend where I was supposed to be celebrating my anniversary with Luke, and instead I was trapped in a hellhole with a delusional man, at the mercy of his equally damaged son.

  Elijah took my stunned silence as assent and ran his hand down the side of my face, lingering on my cheek before tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear. I’d think the gesture fatherly, almost soothing, had it not been for the crazy shit he’d just unloaded on me.

  “Now that we have that settled, Rebekah, let’s get you cleaned up and introduced to your new family.” He walked over to the dresser and sifted through the top drawer, taking a few items out. He held them up, judging them for size, then swapped them for a smaller, matching set.

  They were plain, nothing more than a long all-white skirt and a shirt that covered everything from wrist to chin. Clean and neatly folded, there was not a single color to be found.

  Elijah dropped them onto the bed and pulled a bottle from his pocket. “The polish needs to come off your nails,” he said as h
e placed the nail polish remover on the dresser. “Your makeup is pretty much worn off, but you should give your face a good scrub anyway. Then fix your hair. Nothing fancy. A plain braid down the middle will do fine.”

  I watched as he assembled all the necessary items—a bar of soap, a black hair tie, a scratchy white towel not big enough to cover much of anything, and a pair of beige clogs.

  “That basin there is filled with water,” Elijah said, gesturing to the glass bowl on the dresser. “Give the clothes you are wearing, undergarments included, to Joseph. He’ll burn them along with any trace of your former life. This is a new beginning for you, Rebekah, your chance at a better life. I can guarantee you an eternity of peace and happiness. Embrace your new self. Embrace me.”

  I nodded and forced a smile to my face. I wasn’t consenting to anything, and I had no intention of relinquishing my jeans and bra to anyone. But I wanted him out of the room, and agreeing to wash up and change seemed like the quickest way to do that. Once he was gone, I was going to get out of here. Clothes, nail polish, underwear and all.

  “And once I’m changed?” I asked, trying to figure out how much time I had.

  “I will introduce you to your new family, to my followers. They are excited to meet you.”

  “I bet they are,” I mumbled under my breath.

  Joseph brought a finger up to his lips, warning me to stay quiet. Too late. Elijah heard me and was already turning around.

  “You say something?” he asked.

  I doubted he wanted an answer. It seemed more like a challenge than anything else, but I responded nonetheless. “No, not a thing.”

  “Good. I’ll leave these with you,” he said, gesturing to the documents outlining my fictional past. “I think you will find it quite thorough, but if you have any questions, you ask me. Only me. Is that understood?”