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Since that night, where I spent her entire shift watching her, she is all I see. I need to know more about her. And if the old man keeps up his end of the bargain, I fucking will.
My curious little bat.
I made sure my bat wing tattoo was showing while lounging in the booth directly across from her, this way there was no mistaking where I came from. Blackwood, North Carolina, a member of The Chapel.
One thing did catch me off guard tonight. I didn’t like the look on her face, she was completely devastated and broken.
I didn’t like that.
I hate it actually, that she felt such pain. I never want her to feel that again.
When she saw her mother on the table, naked and held down by the other followers, as I stabbed my knife into her throat. As Rain screamed into the room and broke down crying, she was feeling pain. It bothered me. Then I noticed her detaching.
To me, it is just another body. Master, he gets names from their God, the Devil, whom they refer to as The Dark One. He is who they worship and who they do all of this for.
They have elected themselves those who rid the world of evil. Or who they perceive to be evil, who fucking knows, but that is a detail I couldn’t give two shits about.
I am only here because my mom left my dad when I was ten and brought us here. Master, as he calls himself, is the leader of the highly rumored cult, The Chapel. He is also my stepfather, which technically makes Rain my stepsister. He quickly noticed my strengths and used them to his advantage. He’s a fucking moron if he thinks I don’t realize this.
Before me, they did hold killings and sacrifices, but not as often as they do now. The person before me didn’t have an ounce of the skill I possess, he was sloppy and drew unwanted attention to The Chapel. He is swimming with the sharks now.
How it works now: Master spends hours and hours looking into the flames of a fire. This fire is lit around the clock, and followers will work in shifts to make sure of this. The fear is that if it ever goes out, then Master won’t be able to communicate with their God anymore. Then their purpose could be compromised. Then, once he and The Dark One have spoken, he passes me a torn piece of paper with one name on it.
Each name I bring back to The Chapel has to land on La Notte del Diavolo, which loosely translated means Devil's Night.
Devil’s Night is not scheduled. Whenever the fire gives a name, we begin the process.
We rid the world of what is evil towards The Chapel. We are out here doing our leader’s work like the good little followers we are.
This time was unique, as I received two names. One to kill and one to keep, which is why I am here. I delivered both names, and now I want what is fucking owed to me. The one to keep was promised to me.
The sun will start to rise within the next hour, but that doesn’t matter. My feet are propped up on his desk as I lean back in his expensive leather chair, playing and using my teeth to play with my lip piercing in his home office.
Rain Mills, my stepsister. She is fucking mine.
Although she will be a Sinclair soon, I am not letting her keep her dead mother’s name. A smile forms on my face at the thought of it.
Rain Sinclair will be all fucking mine to do whatever I please. I’ll own every single piece of her.
“What the fuck is on your face, boy?” Maxton Montgomery has entered the room. Our all-superior Master. I should add that I think he is a fucking fraud if you ask me, but his followers have been loyal to him for decades and I’m still alive, so I’m not about to call him out. Next thing you know, the bastard is handing me a piece of paper with my name on it. I think fucking not.
Looking up at him, “What does it look like?” I will not give him the satisfaction of a reaction that I frankly don’t give a fuck.
For the past few months, I have had the darkest black around my eyes and on my nose. Then shading on my temples and the hallows of my cheeks, which each have a hard line leading to the corner of my mouth. Lines cross over the top and bottom of my lip. His question is that of a fucking moron. He knows what is on my face. Sometimes, the black paint does get itchy, but knowing how much he hates it makes me love it more.
Eventually, I will likely get my guy to ink it on me permanently. But until then, I am here for one thing: my prize.
Maxton rolls his eyes at me, “Feet off my desk. Move.”
Not moving, I keep my eyes on him, “I’m not here to socialize with you. I am here to get what I am owed, then I will leave.”
Maxton, who is in his dark dress pants and white dress shirt, which is unbuttoned with curly chest hair sticking out and pointed-toe fancy shoes, walks around the desk to face me. His hair is greased back. His eyebrows are basically one long eyebrow at this point. No wonder he has everyone in masks. I truly do not see what my mom saw in this guy. Must be a good fuck. Nothing else makes sense, as my dad paid her good money each month to take care of me. My dad is fucking loaded. So it has to be the dick.
Another reason for the white and gold masks with the long robes is that The Chapel requires full mandatory attire anytime they are in session, at the caves, so followers can never identify who else is there. They do speak, so they may recognize voices but never faces. Which is important when you're sacrificing people in the name of whomever they worship. Murder is illegal after all, if that sort of thing bothers you.
Maxton interrupts my thoughts, “Things have changed. He has spoken to me again since last night. After you killed her mother, the woman who stole her from us, The Chapel. I am going to keep Rain for myself. To create a pureblood heir to take over The Chapel when their time comes.”
Liar.
