Her eyes widen. “You planned to—”
“Kill every last one of them right along with my father. Yes.”
“What about the guy in the crowd?” Jez plops down on her golden tufted chair and slings one leg over the dingy arm. “How are we going to stop him?”
“Deal with that when it comes up.” I lean forward and pluck a piece of cheese from a tray they’ve left out for me. “Surely, you can see that killing so many is wrong.”
“Wrong.” Chastity laughs. “Adam Monroe is lecturing me about right and wrong.” She giggles. “Ah, God, that’s rich.” Still laughing, she doubles over, her hand over her mouth as she tries to control her mirth.
“It’s wrong, and you know it.”
She jerks upright, the laughter dying on a sour note. “No.” Her fingers fly to the buttons at her throat and make quick work of them down her front.
I take a too-ripe strawberry, chewing it as Chastity turns and strips her dress down. “This is wrong. What he did to me and to Jez, to the girls in the Chapel and in the Cathedral.” A vicious criss-cross of scars mars the pale skin of her back. Circles of pink, raised skin are dotted here and there. Cigar burns, courtesy of the Prophet. “I’m not even the worst one. Two of the girls at the Cathedral are missing fingers. You know why?”
I nod.
“Say it,” Chastity hisses and buttons her top back into place.
The words don’t want to come out, the truth just as disgusting and diseased as my father. But I say it all the same. “They miscarried.”
“Goddamn.” Jez rubs her eyes. “I’d forgotten about that. Maybe blocked it out. Fuck if I know.”
“A finger for a miscarriage. There’s plenty more that goes on there. Ruth probably just gives us the highlights.”
“Ruth is in on this mess?” That’s more of a surprise than even Chastity. Ruth is from the first crop of Maidens. Quiet, level-headed, and unfailingly calm, she’s been like a mother hen to all the girls that wind up in the Cathedral.
“Yes. Her and more. And we all know the plan. And we all agree that to stop the rot, we have to destroy every bit of Heavenly.”
“You heard from Ruth?” Jez asks Chastity.
“Yeah. Earlier today. Said she got busted for having contraband at the Cathedral. Had to spend a day in the Rectory, but is out now.”
“Damn. I thought she was too smooth to get caught.”
Chastity shrugs. “Me too, but all’s well now. She’s ready to get back to work.”
“Good.” Jez nods. “Sunday can’t come soon enough.”
“You’re wrong.” I realize I’m treating them the same way I treat my father when he’s ranting or plotting. I stay as placid as possible, letting him rage and answering with even tones, reasonable words. Of course, it doesn’t work on him, and, from the expressions on Jez and Chastity’s faces, it’s not working on them either. “Why am I even here? What’s my place in all this? I’m not going along with your murder mission. You may as well throw me back to the Prophet.”
“You’re insurance.” Chastity grabs her black coat and pulls it on. “If things go south, we’ll offer you to the Prophet for our freedom.”
“I don’t think that’ll work. He crucified me, remember? Not sure he’s interested in having me back.”
Chastity smirks, and I see the darkness in her that wasn’t there a few years ago. She was right about one thing; the Prophet corrupts everything he touches. “He’s still tearing the compound apart looking for you. He’s desperate to have you returned. Probably so he can put you back up on that cross where you belong.”
I can’t argue that point. Sarah’s blood on my hands is plenty to condemn me to death, not to mention my other sins. “Let’s pretend trading me goes according to plan. You hand me over, he gives you freedom, you walk out of here. His men will have you hunted down and dragged back in a matter of hours. You know that right?”
Chastity shrugs. “We’ll tackle that when it comes.”
“If it comes,” interjects Jez.
“So I take it I’m a prisoner?”
“For the time being, yes.” Jez rises. “If you make any trouble, we’ll tie you, gag you, and stick you back in the box.”
“Good to know.” I lean back, pretending to make myself comfortable while my insides twist and bubble like lava. It’s not smart, but I have to ask. “I realize I’m in no position for favors, but I was hoping you could add Delilah to your little venture on the off chance it actually works.”
“I will keep her away from the church on Sunday. I owe her that much.”
“You owe her?” I’m lost.
“Her sister was a good friend of mine. She told me all about Emily. Did you know she called Emily her Firefly? Did you know that Georgia should be alive today? She would be alive today if it wasn’t for your godforsaken family.” Her eyes mist. “I’ve known what your mother did to her for months, but I didn’t tell Emily. I don’t want to hurt her anymore. I want to set her free.” She snatches her gloves off the small table by the door. “But I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it for Georgia.”