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“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.
