Page 39 of The Cult (Cult 1)


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“Beatrice…I’m so sorry.” I examined her face, seeing the sweat on her forehead, hearing her irregular breathing. She was high and in unimaginable pain. When the drug wore off, she would feel even worse if I didn’t get her some pain meds.

I was furious.

More than furious.

There wasn’t a word for it.

I grabbed my dagger off the nightstand and marched into the darkness. In white jeans and a t-shirt, I stepped into the night, the torches lit with flames, the sculptures still bright in the firelight.

The Malevolent were there—lurking in the shadows.

“Forneus!” My bare feet stung against the frozen ground, but that pain was disregarded in light of my duress. The sea of faces that stared at me were practically wallpaper. I’d killed one of them, and you bet your ass I’d do it again. “Forneus!” My scream pierced the night, made an owl hoot in response, echoed back at me against the trees. If anyone were nearby, they would hear my screams. I turned in a circle, looking at the skulls staring at me, waiting for the demon to emerge.

When they all turned in one direction, I knew he approached.

He came down the stone steps, dressed in sweatpants and nothing else. His bare feet hit the stone just as mine hit the damp soil. His muscular body swayed slightly with his movements, the cuts of muscle visible in the firelight. Demonic eyes were trained on me, his signature smile gone. He reached the earth and slowly approached me, his arms at his sides. “My an-gel.”

I’d never forget the first time I saw him in that theatre, a monster in a Stephen King novel. He looked exactly the same, maniacal and obsessed, but there was a bit more to his look now.

“Your demon has come.”

There was possessiveness now.

Even affection.

It was all disturbing. “I need bandages, gauze, alcohol. Now.”

His stare was the same, as if I hadn’t spoken at all.

“Please.”

“Are you hurt, An-gel?”

“No. But another angel is.”

His fair and unblemished skin reflected in the firelight, having no sign of bruises or scars, no sign of a hard day’s work. He was untouched…while Beatrice was mutilated. “I need to help her. Please.”

Nothing.

I came close, getting in his face, unafraid of repercussion. “It’s a sin to hurt an angel. A demon has committed a sin, and it’s your obligation to fix it. Now.” I threw down my arms, desperate to get him moving.

He hadn’t blinked once since we’d come face-to-face.

I didn’t expect anything from him, but he was the one chance I had in this place. Rebecca would ignore me. The Malevolent didn’t speak. He was the only option I had to help her.

He finally gave a nod to one of the Malevolent.

It actually worked? “And pain meds too.”

Forneus returned his stare to me, looking at me with the same intensity as before.

I didn’t know what else to do but stare back and wait.

A moment later, a Malevolent walked up to him, supplies in hand.

Forneus took them while keeping his eyes trained on me, then did the handoff, extending the supplies to me.

In shock, I opened my arms and accepted everything. “Thank you.” I shouldn’t feel a morsel of gratitude, not to this man, not in this place. But this could have gone quite differently…and it didn’t.

He walked away silently and headed back to the stone steps toward the hill. “Heal her wings, An-gel.”

I cleaned her wound, wrapped her up nice and tight, and then left the pills on the nightstand so she could take them once she woke up. The sheets were soiled with blood, so I stripped them away and stuffed them into the closet. Her back would hurt the instant she woke up, so I propped her on her side, a pillow between her knees, and waited.

Sunrise turned into morning.

The light came into the cabin, blanketing the hardwood floor and making the wood give a pop in the heat.

I waited for her to wake up, but I knew she’d be out for a long time.

Claire’s little voice came through the door. “Constance?”

“I’m here, baby.” I went into the other room and fetched her, bringing her to the bed where her mother lay.

“She’s still not awake?” She lay on the bed beside Beatrice.

“No. But she’ll wake up soon.” Beatrice was still now, sleeping hard, the drug finally out of her system so she could sleep soundly.

My life felt like a nightmare.

Why did Forneus have to lie to Benton?

He might have had the means to save us all.

Hours passed. Breakfast and lunch were served. Claire and I ate but left Beatrice’s food so she would have something to eat when she woke up.

It wasn’t until dinnertime that her eyes opened.

She immediately sucked in a deep breath, wincing in pain, coming to in a fright.

My arm moved around her shoulders, and I helped her sit up. “Hey, it’s me. Constance. I’m here. We’re in your cabin. They’re gone.” I knew exactly what to say because I knew how it felt to wake up and immediately remember the torture. Only, her torture was worse than mine. I ran through a forest and found hope in the form of a river. She was carved like Christmas dinner.

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