White Heat (33 page)

“Do they ever feed you down here?” she asked as her stomach growled.

“They fed me once.”

“What did you get?”

“Meat loaf. I'm guessing it's what they served in the dining hall. I've had it plenty of times before.”

That was hopeful, at least. “What will they do to me?” she asked.

Sarah didn't respond. Until now, Rachel had purposely not requested the details of the “nightmare” Joshua had mentioned. She was afraid that knowing would wipe out the small amount of courage she'd been able to reserve. But as the hours and minutes dragged on, and Nate and Martha continued to sleep, her fear of this unknown fate grew steadily worse. It hadn't taken long for her “better not to know” approach to reach a point of diminishing returns.

“Sarah?” she prompted.

“You're the Vessel,” she said simply.

Sarah clearly didn't want to discuss this, but now that Rachel had asked, she couldn't let it go. “What does that mean, Sarah? Torture? Rape? Murder?” She hoped it wouldn't be that bad. The Vessel was supposed to bear Ethan's next child. She'd have to be alive and in reasonably good health to do that.

“You've been named bride to the whole church.”

Rachel checked Nate's pulse, which she did every few minutes. “That doesn't answer my question.”

“You'll be put on an altar.”

Her breath caught, even though she'd expected something like this. “Here in the pit?”

“No, in the courtyard.”

“Why the courtyard?”

“It's the only area large enough.”

“For what?”

“To hold the whole assembly. Besides, this place is secret to everyone except a select few of those who have taken the highest vows.”

Rachel's nails cut into her palms. “The entire church is going to watch Ethan rape me?”

“They're going to form a line.”

Gang rape. As she'd thought. “And what's the purpose of that—from a religious standpoint?”

“As every man spills his seed inside you, the marriage is consummated and you'll be made holy like Ethan, bride to the whole church.”

“But I'm not even a believer.”

“I know. That means it'll be a mockery,” she said.

Struggling to compose herself, Rachel tried to imagine how she might handle what was to happen. “There are women who'd be willing to do this?”

“For a female Covenanter, this is the greatest honor Ethan could bestow.”

“And he's chosen me.”

“I'm sure he's realized his mistake.”

“Which means…”

“You might not survive the experience.”

“Why doesn't he just kill me now? Choose a different Vessel?”

“Because
he
didn't choose you.
God
did.”

“God did,” she repeated.

“He claims it was divine inspiration. Now he has to deliver what he promised or he'll look like a fool. And the prophet can never be wrong, can never be pegged as a fool.”

“I see. And Nate? What will they do to him?”

There was a long silence. “I have no idea.”

Rachel sat without speaking. Then she said, “You know Ethan is gay, right?”

“What?”
Sarah cried.

At Sarah's apparent shock, Rachel mustered a bitter smile. “He and Bart are lovers.” She wasn't sure why she divulged this information—probably because it was her only form of revenge.

“That doesn't make sense,” Sarah said in a bewildered voice. “He teaches that—that the
devil
delights in homosexual practices.”

“It would take a devil to know.”

N
ate had never felt so weak or so uncomfortable. “What…happened?” His voice sounded raspy from disuse; he had to clear his throat to be heard. “Was I hit by a train?”

“Nate? Thank God!”

He'd already known he wasn't alone. He had his head in a woman's lap, could feel a cool hand on his face as he came around.

It required a massive effort just to lift his eyelids. But even after he did, he wasn't sure they were open. He couldn't see a thing. “Am I blind?” he asked.

“No. You're in a dark hole, a pit.”

This time he recognized the voice. Rachel. From work. From the trailer. From Paradise. From his bed. The information was coming—but not fast. “What's going on?”

“You were shot. Twice.”

Testing his ability to move, he shifted an inch or two. “That would explain a few things.”

“How do you feel?”

“Like shit,” he said, falling back with a groan.

“At least you're alive.”

“I'm half-alive. Maybe.”

Her fingers combed through his hair, distracting him from the pain and easing some of his discomfort.

“Most people who get shot wake up in a hospital,” he said. “In one of those beds that adjust.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” she said with a soft laugh. “We're currently being held captive by a cult leader, who's a complete psychopath.”

“Damn. No Jell-O, either.”

“Not until I can get us out of here.”

“What are the chances of that?”

“Not good.”

The underlying dejection in her voice concerned him because he couldn't be much help to her, not like this. “Well, the pillow's nice,” he said, trying to keep it light. “How serious are my injuries?”

“I can't say for sure. You seem a lot better. You were staring death in the face.”

He let his eyes slide shut. “I probably wasn't as close as you think.”

“You told me you loved me,” she said, as if that proved her point.

“I must've been delirious,” he teased.

Her fingers slipped through his hair again. “There is some good news.”

About time. “What's that?”

“We've found Sarah and Martha.”

“Where?”

“They're in the pit with us.”

“That's the
good
news?”

“Depends on how you look at it.”

“How are they?”

“Sarah seems fine. She's in the next cell. I think she's asleep because I haven't heard from her in the
past hour or so. Martha's in the cell beside hers, but she might be in worse shape than you. They brought her back unconscious and she hasn't stirred since.”

“And Courtney?”

“No sign of her.”

He tried to figure out what he could do to improve the situation, but his thoughts were too jumbled and sleep was already pulling on him, dragging him down…. “Is Ethan really having an affair with the reincarnation of Moses?” he mumbled. “Or did I dream that?”

 

Maxine the housekeeper left torches when she brought food. She had to make two trips, but she delivered four trays, which she pushed through a gap in each door. Rachel was as grateful for the light as she was the food. It was a relief just to be able to see.

After finishing her own chicken and rice, she woke Nate and fed him as much as he'd eat. She hoped the food would help him regain his strength. Sarah ate, too, but she'd grown morose since her nap and didn't speak during the meal. When she was done, she tried to rouse Martha again, got worried when she couldn't and slumped against the bars of her cage.

“I think she's dead,” she whispered with fresh fear.

“They gave her something to knock her out,” Rachel said, determined to remain optimistic. “Maybe it hasn't worn off.”

“It's been hours.”

“I know.” But hope was the only thing Rachel could offer.

Curling up beside Nate, she laid down to rest—and to wait. Earlier, Sarah had told her the Guides would
probably come for her at midnight. The hour was symbolic, she said. She also said the ceremony would be performed at night, partly for effect and partly so it couldn't be observed by any outsiders who might be nosing around. Rachel didn't know exactly how much longer it would be, but the hour had to be drawing close.

“I'm doing better,” Nate told her.

He was lying in an attempt to boost her morale; she could tell. She'd never seen him so drawn and pale. And the way he moved indicated he was in a lot of pain. How was she going to get them both out—alive?

She'd thought about it all day but still had no answer. Without resources, allies or help from the outside, it seemed hopeless.

Suddenly, footsteps pounded the dirt floor.

Rachel got up as several of the Brethren approached. Brady, a man she recognized from when she'd met the twelve at dinner, led the small group.

“We've come to prepare you for your big night,” he announced when they arrived at her cell.

She eyed the group—Harry, Grady, Ezra, Peter and a guy whose name she couldn't remember. “
My
big night?” she said. “From the eagerness on your faces, this is
your
big night.”

 

Nate had never dreamed he'd be sitting in a front-row seat for anything like a mating ceremony. He'd expected to be left in the pit with Sarah and Martha during the ritual. But from what he'd been told by the men who'd brought him out here, Bart had demanded he watch.

It wouldn't be an easy thing to see. He knew that.
But he had a greater chance of helping Rachel here than he did in a cage underground.

Slumping in his chair to make it seem as if he couldn't sit up, he kept track of what was going on from beneath half-lowered eyelids. A burning sensation radiated through his chest—the slightest movement felt like someone was sticking a red-hot poker in those bullet holes—but he had more strength than he was letting on. He wanted the Covenanters to discount him as a possible threat and, so far, they seemed willing to oblige. They'd tied his hands and feet and shoved him into a chair. Then they'd become caught up in the anticipation and excitement of the festivities and forgotten about him.

He could see why they might be distracted. Rachel was in the center of the square fastened to an altar, and she wasn't wearing anything except a filmy negligee. She'd been allowed to bathe, or someone had bathed her, and her hair was arranged in a fancy braid that wrapped around her head. A sheer white veil covered her face.

Nate was close enough to smell the oils that made her skin gleam, but he didn't think she'd noticed him. She didn't seem to be paying attention. She was somewhere inside herself, probably bracing for the degradation she was about to suffer. Or, more likely, she'd been drugged.

Except for Ethan and the Brethren, the Covenanters wore hoods like the one Maxine had donned when she visited Rachel's bedroom. The faithful crowded behind a single row of chairs reserved for the Covenant elite—the Guides and their wives, Maxine and a few others Nate couldn't identify. Ethan stood on the raised dais
that held the altar. As he called the assembly to order, Bart took his seat with the rest of the Brethren.

“Brothers and Sisters, welcome to the night we've long been waiting for,” he said.

With everyone's attention riveted on their leader, Nate began to work at the ropes that bound his hands and feet.

“God has smiled on us,” Ethan went on. “He has provided the Vessel for which we've all prayed. Tonight we will join with her and become one.”

“We will be one!” the crowd shouted.

Bart stared over at Nate, as if to make sure he was taking it all in. Nate kept his feet still so his efforts wouldn't be obvious, but he knew he was working against the clock and continued trying to free his hands, which were bound behind his back. When he let his head loll onto his shoulders, Bart finally returned his gaze to Ethan.

“Look at her!” Ethan was saying. “Is she not a goddess? Is she not fit for the seed of a prophet?”

Wild cheers showed the Covenanters' enthusiasm and approval.

“She will bear us a child, my brothers and sisters, a child who will one day become prophet in my stead.”

There was a crescendo in the cheering as Ethan parted the filmy gauze and exposed Rachel to the crowd. She turned her head away, to hide at least her face, and Nate's stomach twisted with agony. He couldn't let this go on. Somehow, some way, he had to put a stop to it.

Already the men were lining up. The Brethren would go first, of course. There was a man at the head of the line telling the others to make room.

Ethan started talking again, about the sword of power embedding itself in the sheath of virtue. He lifted a golden phallus, but Nate couldn't listen to what he said. Not anymore. Blood was rushing through his ears, blocking out the noise as his hands strained against the rope and his mind searched frantically for a solution. If only he could get free and grab a weapon…

He thought of the guns Ethan supposedly had. But even if he could find where they were hidden, they'd probably be locked up.

Maybe he could relieve some guard of his rifle—a guard more interested in watching the rape of a beautiful woman than in doing his job. But Nate couldn't spot anyone on security patrol. Bart seemed to be concentrating all his forces along the perimeter of the compound. The Covenanters couldn't risk letting someone from the outside see or hear what was going on….

And then it occurred to him. The guards' station. This late, he couldn't imagine they'd man it. Most likely, all the guards would be walking the fence. The gate was part of the fence, of course, and they'd be watching it carefully. But no one would expect a threat to come from
inside
the compound. If he could sneak into the guards' shack, he might be able to find an extra weapon….

He checked to see what Bart was doing. Ethan's right-hand man was up out of his seat, holding back the men waiting for their chance at Rachel. He was also organizing the Brethren in the line, as if order was important. For the moment, he seemed to have forgotten Nate. Maybe he was thinking about the fact that his lover would be the first to “spill his seed” into the Vessel “God had prepared.”

As the crowd pressed closer, some of the Covenanters moved in front of the chairs and, at that point, Nate couldn't see Bart at all. But neither could he get free. He was too tired, too weak.

And then someone came up to him. “You're a fool for losing a woman like that.”

Everyone looked the same in a hood, and Nate couldn't place the voice. “Who're you?”

“My name's Todd.”

“Todd who?”

“Todd Wilson.”

Martha's husband? New hope flowed through Nate. “I have to tell you something, Todd,” he said in a low voice.

“What's that?”

“I know where your wife is.”

Todd had to fight the crowd just to remain stationary. “So do I. The Brethren called me in, told me she's in Willcox. They want me to try and get in touch with her. I sent a letter to the post office there, hoping they'd deliver it. But there hasn't been enough time to hear back.”

“Your letter won't reach her. Bart took Sarah to Willcox yesterday and used her to gain Martha's trust.”

Todd braced against two people who shoved past him. “So what are you saying?”

“I'm saying your wife's in a pit under the Enlightenment Hall. And she's dying.”

“That's a lie!” The incredulity in his voice said he refused to believe it. Nate had to convince him.

“No, it's not. Last night they raped her with everything imaginable. She's been passed out on the floor
of her cell ever since. We couldn't get her to respond to us.”

“Raped her? No. She lost her testimony. The Guides were just…” His words fell off as if the excuse sounded lame even to his own ears.

Beads of sweat rolled down Nate's back. “It's murder,” he said. “And what's happening here isn't right, either. Untie me so I can protect my wife.”

The eyes showing through the slits in Todd's hood darted between him and the altar. “It's a privilege to be the Vessel. What we'll be doing, it's an—an act of love.”

“Ask her if she
wants
your love,” he spat. “She's drugged out of her mind and yet she'd still refuse if she could.”

“Is your love any better?” Todd shot back. “You beat her. I saw the evidence.”

He didn't have much time. They were about to start. “She did that, I didn't. We're both undercover agents. And if you don't help us, you'll be as guilty as Ethan and Bart.”

“Undercover agents?” he echoed.

Nate brushed off his surprise. “There'll be plenty of others who'll come looking for us. If you want to stay out of prison, I suggest you let me go before Rachel is raped. If you do, I'll make sure you have a second chance at a good life, one that doesn't include hard time, so you can raise your little boy.”

Todd wrung his hands but made no move to help. They hadn't touched Rachel yet. Ethan was whipping the crowd into a frenzy of excitement.

“Todd!” Nate snapped. “Now!”

The chanting grew louder. “But…what if you're lying? I'll be kicked out, shunned.”

“You're wearing a hood. No one'll know it was you who set me free. If it comes to that, I'll say I did it myself.” Had he possessed his usual strength, he probably could've freed himself.

Still, Todd hesitated.

“For God's sake, untie me so I can help her,” Nate hissed. “Or, if I ever get out of this, I swear, I'll kill you myself.”

With a frightened glance around to make sure no one was paying attention, Todd moved behind him. While feigning interest in the ceremony, he loosened the knot at Nate's wrists.

When he was free, Nate had Todd come around in front to hide him while he untied his own feet. Then, struggling to retain his equilibrium and his footing, he got up and slipped into the crowd, which was humming and swaying along with the cadence of Ethan's voice as he prayed.