My hands shoved in my pockets, I limp toward the double doors that lead to the classroom section of the church. Some people are inside, most of them bustling about and getting ready for the service. Keeping my head down, I push into the nearest room. It’s dark, and I don’t touch the light switch as I survey the nearest support column. Wide and painted white, three men could barely hold hands around it. There are a dozen of these in the structure, each one supporting an essential piece of the church. Circling this one, I don’t find anything—no tampering, no dynamite. One down, eleven to go.
I open the door, then quickly let it close. The women from the Cathedral file in, their antiquated dress and hair styles covering over the fact that they are sex slaves. Their children aren’t with them. Odd. My father doesn’t like for my brothers and sisters to ever miss a service. I peer through the sliver of a window in the door, seeing but unseen. Noah should be here by now. We’d agreed to meet up and search for the Chapel saboteurs. But he isn’t here. I’ll have to go it alone. Worry creeps into my thoughts—for Noah and Emily. But if I dwell too much, I won’t be able to get this done, or maybe I’ll make a mistake. No good options.
Once the hall clears of the Cathedral wives, I open the door and ease to the next room. This pillar is half-buried in the wall, but the accessible sides are clear. I double check it, but hear the door opening behind me.
Fuck. I press myself to the wall in the small crevice created by the pillar.
“Where is she?” Jez’s voice reaches my ears.
“She was supposed to be here thirty minutes ago.”
“Do you have any?” Jez’s voice rises.
“Dynamite? No. She kept a close eye on it. Was supposed to bring it.”
“We’re screwed without it. Where is she?”
The door opens again, light from the hallway creating a rectangle on the floor before going dark again.
“Ruth and Chastity are missing.” It’s the old Spinner, Abigail. “Someone says they were both taken to the Prophet’s house over an hour ago. Haven’t come out.”
Stunned silence. Their plan has gone to shit. Somehow, the Prophet found out about it.
“What are we going to do?” The woman’s voice I don’t recognize is a mouse’s whisper. “If he has Chas—”
“She’ll be okay.” Jez is vehement. “She’s tough. But we need to do this without her for now. We still have the gasoline stockpiled under the Chapel. I’ll take some of the girls, head over, collect it all, and bring it here. We’ll just go back to plan A. No problem.”
“But there is a problem.” I walk out, my foot aching with each step.
“Shit!” Jez backs away, then stops. “The fuck are you doing in here?” She wears a modest blouse and skirt, and, with her hair up in a severe bun and not a scrap of makeup on her face, she’s become someone else. Not Jez, the madam, but another one of the Prophet’s followers, devotion in her bones.
“I was checking for explosives. You’re never going to believe this, but I heard some psycho assholes were going to try and blow up the church. Crazy, right?”
She pulls a knife from the pocket of her denim skirt. “You and your smart mouth. I should gut you on principle.”
“I’m not the one you need to worry about. If he took Ruth and Chastity, he knows what you’re planning. You’re lucky the Protectors haven’t swept you up yet. Once they do …” I let out a low whistle.
“Fuck.” She shakes her head. “This is a cluster.”
“If you want to survive, you need to get what girls from the Chapel you can and make a break for it. They’ll capture some of you, but not all. Most of the Protectors and some of the guards are here in the church for the big service.”
“We aren’t running.” Jez puts the knife back in her pocket.
“Then you’re dying.” I’m not a fan of their murder plot, but I’m not a fool either. They’re victims of this place, tainted by the purest form of cruelty. To them, their plan is warranted—justice, even.
“What about you? I don’t see you limping away from here despite all your advice to turn tail and run.”
“I still have a part to play.” I still have my love to save. “Doesn’t mean you can’t save yourself and some of your girls.”
The girl I don’t recognize shifts from one foot to the other. “Maybe he’s right. Maybe we should—”
“No.” Jez turns to the door. “Get into the crowd. Keep your eyes peeled. I’m going to the Prophet’s house to find Chastity.”
Abigail sighs, her wrinkled forehead even more furrowed than usual. “That place is a death trap for you, girl.”