Deep Redemption (Hades Hangmen Book 4) Page 10
“You should run,” I said, so quietly that Harmony wouldn’t hear.
Phebe shook her head.
“Why?” I asked. “Get the hell out of this place somehow. Save yourself.”
She hesitated. “I . . . I need to protect someone. And the man that has me, Meister.” She shook her head. “He will never let me go. I can feel it. He . . . he has become obsessed with me.” Phebe’s tears ran thick and fast. “He scares me so much. It is over for me now.” Phebe finished off wiping my body. “I fear it is over for us all. Everything has changed since this prophet ascended. We can never go back . . .”
Guilt swarmed my stomach. Phebe gathered her things and stood. Just as she was about to leave, she turned back and whispered, “I once thought you the same as him. But now . . . ” Her shoulders dropped. “But now I see that you are not. You share different hearts and souls—one pure, one dark. It is just a shame that darkness always seems to prevail in this world.”
Phebe left the cell, the door slamming shut in her wake. I stayed still where I sat, stunned by her words. But the anger bubbling in my blood built higher and higher. Of late, it was the only emotion I seemed to feel. Pure fury at my twin and everything he was doing.
I returned to the wall. I lay down on my front and crawled to where I would see Harmony again. As soon as our eyes met, her hand pushed through the gap. My fingers wrapped around hers. I closed my eyes and let the solace of her touch calm the rage inside, just for a moment.
We lay in silence, but my head raced. What could I do? How could I stop this? I was still thinking hard when Harmony said, “Rider?”
“Yes?” I replied, opening my eyes.
She squeezed my hand tighter. “It may make me an eternal sinner, but one thought keeps occupying my mind. I keep praying for something that is savage and cruel . . . but I cannot stop.”
“What is it?” I asked in a rough voice.
Harmony took a deep breath. “I pray for death.” My muscles tensed. She wished to die? “For the prophet,” she quickly added, and I stilled. “I pray for Prophet Cain to die. I pray for our freedom from his enforced hurt and pain. And I think that could only happen if our leader died. If his cruel heart was no longer beating.”
I didn’t say anything in response. I didn’t say anything, because I fought with a greater internal war. A greater personal sin.
Because I was starting to pray for that too.
I was praying that Judah would be taken down.
I had started to pray that my own brother would die . . .
. . . and if those thoughts could only come from a sinner’s heart, then a sinner I was.
Chapter Seven
Rider
A week went by. A groundhog day of daily beatings by the disciple guards—and no sign of Judah. The only light was having Harmony beside me. It amazed me how quickly I had come to need her, covet her. Her hand in mine as we talked became the only thing that kept me from giving up.
Each day, Phebe would come to my room. She didn’t speak to me again after her confession. She washed me as instructed, and each day I watched as she grew further and further from the girl I once knew. I watched helplessly as she closed in on herself. Each day brought with it new bruises. And each day she became less and less of the vibrant woman she had once been as the consort to my brother.
The sound of footsteps in the hallway pulled me from sleep. I pushed away from the wall, filling the gap with the loose stone brick. I always put the brick back in place when the guards came for me. If they thought I had been talking to Harmony, they would punish her.
I wouldn’t let that happen.
The guards opened the door and entered my cell. It had gotten to the point where I didn’t even look into their eyes as they led me away. I didn’t even look at their faces as they pulled me to my feet. We took the usual course, the guards dragging me from my cell, down the hallways and out onto the path. Once in the now-familiar building, to my surprise, I was led to the room where I had talked with Judah earlier in the week.
My heartbeat sped up as the guards opened the door and threw me to the center of the floor, before leaving the room.
I heard another door open. I knew who would be walking through. I squeezed my eyes shut, my hands balling into fists on the stone floor. I breathed in slow, controlled breaths as I tried to make peace with the fact that I would see my twin again. Instead, a pit formed in my stomach.
He was my brother, yet I hated him. I hated my only family.
I pictured Harmony’s stunning face in my mind. Over the past several days, something had faded in her too. The light she shone so bright was fading to a dull glow. I pictured Phebe. I pictured her bruised face, the devastation in her voice when she confessed what her life had become.
“Brother,” Judah’s voice sliced through the war in my mind. I raised my head to see Judah standing before me. He stood as he always did—dressed in a white tunic, perfectly groomed with his hair down and eyes bright. Not a fucking care in his warped world.
“Judah.”
His eyes narrowed at the use of his birth name, but he shrugged and crouched down before me. “I see your attitude is very much the same, brother.”
“What did you expect?”
The flash of sadness in Judah’s eyes made me feel a slither of sorrow. “I expected you to repent by now. I have been waiting anxiously, expectantly, for the guards from your cell to come and get me. I expected by now that you would have asked me to come to you, to tell me you had thought everything through and that you want to be by my side. As it should be. I hope for it still.”
Judah’s dark eyes implored me to say it, to speak those words and join him. I wanted to. I wanted so badly not to feel this pit of doubt and disgust in my stomach. I wanted to take his olive branch and accept. I wanted it so much, but I just . . .
“Why the guns?” I whispered. Judah’s head tilted to the side. “Why do our people practice shooting day and night? They are not all soldiers. The women and children are not meant for violence. Prophet David declared the women to be home-dwellers. They are to procreate and keep the men happy. Not to fight.”
Judah’s face grew stern. “We are all soldiers in God’s holy war, brother. No person from our flock is spared. To win the greatest war of all, we all need to fight. Women and children too.”
“Fight who?” I asked. I needed to hear the plan from his own mouth.
I had to be sure.
Judah’s eyes shone with a crazed light and a vicious smile spread on his lips. “The Hangmen, brother,” he informed me. His hand slipped to my shoulder and he squeezed me with excitement. “God has revealed a great plan of revenge for everything they have done to us.” He leaned in closer. “For everything you had to endure when you lived with them all those years. They are to be punished by our hands. All of them. We will take God’s wrath to their gates and destroy them in their own backyard.”
“When?”
“Soon . . . ” Judah said happily. “Soon. In such a short time I will have conquered our greatest enemy, brought our salvation through marriage to the Cursed, and we will ready to embrace the coming end of days.”
“Peacefully?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Until the next enemy comes. Until the devil sends more of his sinners. Every person in the outside world is our enemy, brother. If we must fight them all, then we will.”
And then I knew. I knew that Judah’s quest for power would trump everything that our faith taught. I knew he would never back down. There would never be peace while he was at the helm.
He could never be redeemed.
“I want you at the wedding, brother. I want you to watch me wed the Cursed whore, then cleanse her of her original sin in front of our people.”
Every cell in my body turned to a heavy block of ice. The wedding . . . Judah would marry Harmony then take her in front of the people to begin the celestial exorcism of her sin. He would fuck her publicly after they had wed. And knowing my brother, he would do
it violently.
Harmony. No! It would kill her.
Judah leaned in further, awaiting my response. The sudden anger that had built up inside burst free. With a spurt of strength, I tackled Judah to the ground. My brother, no match for me in strength or skill, fell onto his back. I slammed my hand over his mouth to keep him quiet, wrapping the other hand around his neck. Judah struggled on the floor, thrashing beneath me. As I met his eyes, I saw pure fear and shock staring back at me.
Adrenaline surged through my veins. My hands shook with the enormity of what I was about to do. My hand tightened around Judah’s neck and I began to squeeze. Judah clawed at my arms, his nails raking at my flesh. But he had never fought before. My five years with the Hangmen had taught me how to fight. They had taught me how to kill. Efficiently and quickly.
Without mercy.
“No,” Judah mouthed as I pushed hard on his throat, watching his skin begin to mottle with red. His body was becoming starved of oxygen. I told myself to look away from Judah’s eyes. I knew I had to make the kill, but as Judah’s gaze locked on mine, I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
“No,” Judah whispered again, his lips turning blue. “Brother . . . ” he begged, his eyes watering. As the tears built in Judah’s eyes, each one felt like a dagger piercing my chest. My determination to kill him, to actually see this through, began to wane as our lives flashed before my eyes. Judah laughing beside me as we grew up alone, just him and me. Judah always by my side as I struggled with understanding the scriptures. His open arms greeting me, when I fled from the Hangmen. He had asked no questions of me. Had no doubts in me . . . he was my little brother . . . he was all I had . . .
“Why?” I rasped, as hot tears built in my eyes, scalding my cheeks when they fell. “Why did you have to fuck all this up for us?”
Judah tried to shake his head to explain. My hand was an iron vise around his neck. Judah’s nails struck harder into my flesh as I growled, “You were meant to stand by my side, even if I fucked up. You swore you would always be with me, that you would always support me. Why the fuck did you have to turn on me? Why the fuck did you have to have so much venom in your heart that you would destroy our people and our faith in your quest for blood?”
My eyes bored into his. Judah scrunched his eyes shut. I watched his mouth as he tried to communicate. When he did, it broke my heart in two. “I am . . . sorry . . . brother . . . ” he said, opening his eyes. “I am sorry I failed you . . . Cain . . . I . . . I love you . . . ”
A roar ripped from my throat and my hands fell from around his neck. He was my brother. He was my fucking brother! “I can’t,” I said as I slumped back onto my legs. “You’re all I have. I can’t . . . ”
Judah coughed and sputtered, his starved lungs sucking in breath after breath of much-needed air. Looking back at me over his shoulder, he scurried to the steps that led to the raised part of the room. I waited for him to speak. I held out my hand, willing him to take it.
I wanted him to communicate with me, to tell me he’d listen to what I had to say. Instead, my heart fell when he shouted, “Guards! GUARDS!”
Three guards came bursting into the room. They ran to Judah and helped him to his feet. Judah pointed at me. “Take him away and punish him.” Judah cleared his husky throat, rubbing at his already bruising neck. “He just tried to kill me. He just tried to murder your prophet!”
The disciple guards whipped around to face me, a savage rage on their bearded faces. I didn’t even react. I knew what my fate was. They would kill me. I almost laughed at the irony. I had tried to kill Judah, but I couldn’t. Despite his flaws, in the end, I loved him too much. He was my brother, my twin . . . my best and only friend.
I couldn’t end his life.
He clearly had no such loyalty to me. I could see that as he glared down at me on the floor, a small victorious smirk etched on his lips. His triumph over me. His power of me. I let my body drag as the guards launched me to my feet. I kept my eyes on Judah until we reached the door.
“Brother,” I heard, just as we were about to exit. The guards spun me around so I was looking up at Judah, standing in the center of the highest step. “This is why you would never have been able to do this, to lead our people. When push came to shove, you could not see this killing through, even though you felt it right to do so. You feel too much. You always have. You have a conflicted conscience in a damned and evil world.” He let his hand fall to his side. “In the end, your good heart was your demise. You are a weight that I have carried for years. A weight, today, I gladly will rid myself of. Good hearts, brother, have no place when leading people on the right path. They only stand in your way.”
As the guards dragged me to the punishment room, as they strung me up like Jesus on the cross, as they beat my body until I was sure I would soon be dead, all I could think was that Judah was wrong.
Hung up on this wooden cross, dying slowly with every punch to my ribs, chest and stomach, I felt no light in my heart. I only felt darkness consuming my soul. I only felt hatred forcing my heart to keep beating.
I felt evil flood my veins. And for once, I didn’t try to resist it. I embraced it. Gone was Prophet Cain; in his place, was a devil reborn.
One that bore no resemblance to the man before.
Chapter Eight
Harmony
I paced the cell as day faded to night. The door to my cell opened, and Brother Stephen and Sister Ruth sneaked through. “Has he returned?” I asked hurriedly.
“No,” Sister Ruth replied, and I felt my heart fall with dread.
“What are they doing to him?” I asked. Rider had been quiet for days and days. I missed the man that spoke to me so sweetly those first few days in my cell. I held my hand to my chest and shut my eyes. The man that held my hand was sweet and full of grace. But over the past few days, he had grown distant. Something was torturing his mind. He never confided what that was. He never confided much of anything.
Not that I shared my heart either. The secrets that were becoming harder and harder to bear.
And now he had not returned from his punishment. I felt another wave of dread in my gut. Something was not right. I could just feel it.
The sound of low voices came from outside my cell. I looked at Brother Stephen and Sister Ruth in alarm. They ducked out of the cell and I rushed to the corner where I normally sat. I listened intently as the sound of the prophet’s guards came from the hallway. I prayed that Rider was with them. I listened hard to every move, and heard Rider’s cell door opening, then a thud, as if someone had been hurled to the floor.
My stomach lurched with nausea. Rider.
I waited impatiently for the guards to leave his cell. When I was sure they were gone, I pushed the loose stone from the gap. Rider’s room was dark, but I saw him lying in the center of the floor. I was too far away to see if he was okay. I began to panic; I could barely see him moving. I could not even hear him breathe.
“Rider,” I whispered loudly, hoping he would hear my call. But he did not move. “Rider!” I called, louder, but not even a flinch of acknowledgment came from him. I squinted my eyes trying to see more, but I could not.
I tried for what felt like an eternity to rouse him. When Rider still did not stir, I jumped to my feet and began banging on my door, all worry of punishment fleeing my mind. “Brother Stephen! Sister Ruth!”
They rushed to open my door. “Harmony, quiet,” Brother Stephen begged, nervously looking out of my cell window.
“It is Rider,” I said quietly. “He is not moving. I think he is really hurt.”
Brother Stephen glanced at Sister Ruth and my stomach sank further. “He is, is he not? They have hurt him badly.”
Sister Ruth reached out and touched my arm. “He is not conscious. He is not awake. He”—she winced—“I am not sure he will come back from this. He is beaten very badly, Harmony. Maybe too much. I cannot tell.”
“I need to see him,” I said firmly. “Help me get in to see him.”
“No.” I cut him off. “He has been here for me. I . . . I care for him, greatly. I will not see someone else hurt. I cannot . . . ” I confessed, unable to finish my sentence. Sympathy flooded Sister Ruth’s gaze, and her shoulders sagged.
“Solomon and Samson have just been called away. The prophet has called an emergency meeting.” Hope filled my chest. Perhaps I could get to Rider without being caught. “But I do not know how long they will be, or if they will come back alone.” I heard the warning in her voice.
But I did not care. She must have seen that in my face.
She left the room. In seconds she was back, holding a brass key. “Come,” she said hurriedly. Picking up the hem of my dress, I followed her into the silent hallway and to the cell next door.
Sister Ruth opened the door and let out a gasp. I brushed past her. My hand flew to my mouth when I saw Rider on the floor, battered and bruised, his body awash with blood. Tears built in my eyes, but I chased them away to turn to my guardians. “Get me buckets of clean water and rags. We need soap too.”
“Harmony,” Brother Stephen said worriedly, but I raised my hand.
“I do not care if I am punished for this. What does it matter anyway? The prophet needs me alive, and I will not leave Rider this way.” I moved to Rider’s broken body. “I am sure he would not leave me in this state if it were me. And I know you know this to be true. You have listened to us talk. You have heard the kindness of his soul.”
Brother Stephen and Sister Ruth shared a concerned glance, then hurried off to fetch what I had asked for. I dropped to the floor beside Rider, my hands trembling with nerves. I never thought I would ever see him in the flesh, face to face like this. My eyes tracked over his body. He was large: tall and extremely broad. He dwarfed my petite size. I did not know why, but I liked that he was bigger than me. He looked like a fallen warrior—strong and brave.
I leaned forward, gently pushing back the matted, dirt-ridden hair from his face. All I saw was bloodied skin, bruised and harmed. “Rider,” I whispered, stroking a finger along his cheek. “I am sorry they have done this to you.”