One of Many (17 page)

I fold an arm over her.
Weston will die.
I realize that was always my goal.

Nobody survives a knife to the heart. It is somehow poetic justice that a Chosen would end what he began.

My eyelids feel like lead weight, and Audrey tightens her grip. She whispers my name, again and again.

Until I don't hear any noise at all. My eyesight departs, and a peace descends. Then blackness—a blackness more total than night.

More total than life.

Audrey

“Be quiet,” Father Weston hisses, silencing the happy chatter of Rachel and Caroline. We stop in the foyer, right before the front door.

Father Weston tips his head, listening. Ginny meets his eyes. He nods. She scurries off, and silence befalls us. Then I hear it, a low murmur.

Kiev’s voice.

“Go to the celebration,” Father Weston orders.

“Go to the celebration?” Caroline asks.

“Are you deaf? Go!”

Rachel tightens her grip on his arm. “Not without you!”

He yanks his hand away from her and pushes past, shoving Caroline. On tall heels, she loses her balance and falls onto the stairs, crying out when her knees hit the steps. Rachel rushes over, taking Caroline’s hand to help her up.

They watch Father Weston leave, not with stunned horror on their faces but with disappointment. In themselves.

“Go,” Father Weston says once more. “And take Audrey with you.”

I take a step back. I’m not leaving this house, not without Kiev. Rachel pulls Caroline to her feet and moves toward me. I don’t know what to do. My default move is to pray, to ask God for guidance, and right now the only thing God is telling me to do is run.

I make it into the kitchen without them following, my hands landing on the cold granite of the island counter top. I’m trembling from head to foot and can’t seem to catch my breath. A shadowy figure makes its way down the hall. I duck just in time and crawl around the large counter to see Ginny rush toward the basement door, gun in hand.

I need to stop her. Stop Weston. Get us all the hell out of here. My frantic eyes survey the kitchen and land on a solid wood block filled with butcher knives. I select one of the smallest. Sharpest.

A shot rings out, and my heart stops.
Dies.
I can’t breathe, can’t move.

Then Father Weston speaks.

“Shoot him, Anna. He is a sinner. He violated a Chosen.”

Does that mean Kiev is still alive?
I have to remind myself to breathe, to pull myself together and figure something out. Because Kiev would figure it out if our situations were reversed.

Words spill from Kiev’s mouth, begging Anna not to shoot. They are some of the best words I have ever heard, because those words let me know that Kiev is still alive. There is still time.

I sneak into the hall, my fist closed around the hilt of the knife. My only plan is to put the pointy end in some part of Father Weston.

I wonder if it’s hard to stab someone and if I’m strong enough to push the blade past any bones.

I creep along, holding my breath. Father Weston stands behind Anna, who is holding a gun. A gun that is pointed at Kiev. I raise my arm, my fingers tight on the knife.

Kiev sees me but doesn’t indicate my presence. I’m right behind Father Weston, looking at the center of his back, the place I plan to bury the blade.

Then he turns, and everything happens so fast. The gun goes off.

Kiev falls back, and the smell of blood fills the air.

I bring my arm down, and the knife hits Father Weston in the chest. The tip of the knife or bone breaks—maybe both—and I drag the blade down his torso before letting go.

Blood splatters as the knife clangs to the ground.

Father Weston stumbles back, hits the wall, and slides down, leaving a streak of red on the wall behind him.

“Don't leave me, Kiev!” I dive on the floor.

“Good girl, Little Bride.” His voice comes out ragged, as though every word is hard to form.

“Kiev!”
Oh my God
, he’s bleeding!

My hands tremble; the metallic smell of blood is strong. I have to stop the bleeding now, or I’ll lose Kiev forever.

Sirens grow louder and louder. Police. Ambulances. Hospitals.

The real world.

Real help. Real justice.
Hang on
.

“I love you, Kiev. Don't you desert me.” My tears fall, mixing with the blood on Kiev’s chest.

The red runs over his tattoos, masking them.

I pull back, evaluating the damage. Blood seeps from a hole in Kiev’s shoulder and comes slower from his leg. How much blood can he lose before he dies? His eyes are fluttering shut.

No! I’m losing him. Just hang on...
keep hanging on!

There’s a knock at the door. The police are here, thank God.

“Help me!” I yell. Suddenly someone is on me, someone big and heavy, and I realize it’s Father Weston.

He died and went to hell and was resurrected by the Devil himself. Blood has soaked through the front of his white dress shirt, and his skin has paled.

His wraps my throat with his strong fingers, and I can’t breathe.

Weston wants to watch the life go out of my eyes as it goes out of him. He’s bleeding badly and doesn’t have much time left.

I push against him, and his body slumps forward, weak from blood loss. Darkness threatens to take over. Desperation fuels me, and I bring my leg up, kneeing Weston in the balls. He sucks in air and goes rigid.

I shove him and scramble out, needing to go back to Kiev.

“Look what you did!” Ginny screams. “No, no, no!” She drops to the ground and takes Father Weston in her arms. His eyes are glazing over. The false prophet is dying. Maybe God does answer prayers. 

My heart in my throat, I scramble to Kiev’s side. He’s trying to open his eyes. Trying and failing.

“It’s okay,” I whisper and press my hand over the hole in his shoulder. Blood still freely seeps out, though not as fast. Is the wound clotting? Or is he running out of blood?

The cops knock at the door again. Hurry and get in!

“Don’t you even think about opening the door!” Ginny bellows to Rachel and Caroline, who must still be in the foyer. “The law doesn’t belong in God’s house.”

“I’m hurt!” I cry.

They won’t help Kiev, but they might open the door to help me. “Rachel, please! I need help!” My hands are slick with blood. “Hang on, Kiev. Hang on!”

Someone moves behind me. Scared it’s Ginny coming to take revenge, I look behind me and see Anna scurrying away.

“Don’t open the door!” Ginny calls after her. “God doesn’t want you to!” She lets go of Father Weston’s body, and he slumps to the floor, his eyes wide open, and grabs Anna’s ankle.

Anna trips and lands hard on her knees. Her hands slap the wooden floor as she crawls forward, yanking her leg out of Ginny’s grip.

My chest heaves, and I can’t breathe—can’t get in air. There's so much blood, and Kiev’s eyes are closed. He parts his lips and tries to mumble.

“Shhhh,” I soothe, tears running down my face. “It’s going to be okay, Just hang on.”

Someone shrieks, and a light turns on in the front of the house. The floor vibrates under what sounds like combat boots.

The police.

Ginny screams, long and agonizing. Something is pushed across the floor, bumping into my bent legs.

“Help! Help me!” Ginny falls back while pretending fear. “She’s crazy! She did this!” Her finger is pointed at me. “Arrest her!”

My body is folded over Kiev’s. I don’t look up, don’t move away.

“She’s got a gun.” Someone moves over. “Put your hands up.”

Shaking, I move off Kiev’s body and raise my hands. Officer Langley meets my gaze. He lowers his weapon.

Help me,
I mouth, and he gives the tiniest nod.

Tears stream down my face. More officers swarm in, and everything happens so fast. Handcuffs. Screaming. Crying.

So much blood.

Paramedics surround Kiev, checking vitals, sticking him with needles, and hooking him up to IVs.

“Audrey,” Officer Langley says, and I tear my eyes away from the medics. I wrap my arms around myself. “Audrey, are you all right?”

My teeth are chattering, and I feel cold, as if I were dunked in the baptism tub again and left to drown.

“I will be.” I take in a breath. “Is it over? Can I leave this place?”

“Yes. You’re safe.”

*

Harsh lights spill down on me, highlighting every bruise, every scrape in my skin. I twist a strand of hair between my fingers and watch the monitors connected to Kiev. We’re at the hospital, three hours after we made our escape.

Kiev is in rough shape. He lost a lot of blood from being shot twice. But he’s going to recover. He’s going to be okay.

I’m dressed in a hospital gown, gray sweatpants, and slippers. A nice nurse and a soft-spoken female officer questioned me, took pictures of my injuries, and treated my wounds—took a rape kit.

Kiev and I are free from Father Weston’s web of lies, but things are far from over. We left The Community, leaving hundreds of people behind, my parents included. No one knew what was going on when a brigade of flashing lights sped down the lone gravel road that leads to the big house on the hill. And no one knew that only one of the two people taken away on stretchers was alive.

I wonder what is going to happen to them. Will the people of The Community stay there, carrying on as they did before?

Father Weston didn’t provide anything… other than false hope.

My eyelids are heavy, but I resist sleep. I want to be awake when Kiev wakes up, and I don’t plan to leave his bedside until then. I keep my hand on top of his, gently stroking his skin. An hour later, I lose my battle against sleep, slumping forward against the bed.

“Audrey.”

I startle, forgetting where I am for a moment.

“Sorry, honey.”

I blink, look around. Oh, right. I’m at the hospital. My heart skips a beat, and I look at Kiev; he’s still sleeping peacefully next to me.

“Your parents are here,” the nurse says.

“Oh, thanks,” I mumble and give Kiev’s hand a squeeze before standing stiffly and stepping out of his room.

My parents look shell-shocked, and it hits me that this is the first time in five years they have been anywhere other than The Community. My mother clutches my dad’s arm, letting go only when she sees me.

“Oh, Audrey,” she cries and throws her arms around me.

I melt into her embrace, tears leaking from my eyes.

It’s the first time I’ve felt my mother’s touch since the wedding. In some ways, I still feel like the little girl that I was before that night, living a sheltered life, totally oblivious to the world around me.

But I also feel changed. Grown up?
Maybe.
I’m not innocent anymore, that’s for sure. I’ve broken several Commandments, though this time I feel they
can
be forgiven.

“What happened?” Mom asks, pulling back enough to look me in the eyes. I blink, considering each word carefully. There’s no need to tell her the whole truth. Being away from the small house is enough of a change for her to handle right now.

“Father Weston lied.”

Three words. Three powerful little words. Powerful enough to change everything.

*

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Kiev asks me, putting the black SUV in park in front of the big house on the hill. “You don’t have to come back inside.”

My heart lurches from looking at the large white house. It’s been over a week since The Reckoning—the real Reckoning—took place. The events  surrounding that night reminded me of how sheltered I was and how little I still don’t know.

I don’t understand how inheritance works or why Kiev is coming back to this hell. He said the house is his now, and he needs a place to stay while recovering. It’s all too much, and I can’t wrap my head around how anyone is going to proceed, how anyone can recover from this.

Kiev has half brothers and sisters. They need a place to stay, and for the first time since they were infants, they will be allowed to stay with their mothers.

“I do have to go back.” I unbuckle myself and put my hand on the door, scared to get out.

Half the people in The Community packed up what little they had and left. A few stayed, holding tight to their belief. They went so far as to say Father Weston wasn’t their leader. He wasn’t fit to lead them through the end of times.

But that I am.

Those people who stayed might be more crazy than Weston himself.

The others, those who now see the lies but didn’t leave right away, they stayed because they have nowhere else to go.

Like us, like Kiev.

He did what he wanted: take down The Community. And now he’s forced to return once more, because it’s not over.

I walk slowly next to Kiev as we make our way to the front door. I blink and feel a rush of panic.

The last time I was in this house, horrible things happened, and I feel pain shoot between my legs and goose bumps break out along my arms.

Kiev takes my hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. He’s limping slightly, though he denies any pain. He saved me that night, but he tells me I saved him when he didn’t even know he needed to be saved.