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“Just Angel,” I say again, meeting her eyes so that she understands my meaning. “The rest of you can leave. We won't need your services tonight.”
The aunties cluster together to discuss, but I'm not looking at them. I'm only looking at Angel, meeting her eyes across the room, trying to telegraph what I'm thinking directly to her. Maybe not everything I'm thinking, but the basic message that she is safe. That she's right to be here. Even alone.
I have a plan. I need her to trust in my plan.
“No!” Melissa barks, her ugly self-centeredness raging to the surface. Annie snatches her by the elbow and drags her toward the door. Agatha and Mary tip their heads together, muttering furiously.
But they know they have to obey. This may be the first time a deflowering ceremony has occurred without the assistance of the aunties’ protocols, but my word is law. I'm sure we can muddle through without their ‘assistance.’
Mary finally shoos her sisters back through the entrance and pulls on the door with all her might. She closes it slowly, glaring at me the entire time, letting me know that that's not the last time we’re going to speak about this.
But I can hardly care about that now.
We have a ceremony to undertake.
Chapter 68
Angel
As the door shuts behind me, I almost forget to breathe. The last thing I see is my mother's face. She stands completely still, her eyes wide with shock, her brow knitted in confusion.
This is not what they told me was going to happen. Mary gave me this new dress for the ceremony, and I hold the side flaps closed as I stand here and stare at the closed door for a few seconds. They told me the dress would cover me, but it feels like it's going to fly open at any second. They also told me they would tell me everything I needed to know. They were going to give me instructions. They were supposed to walk me through it.
But now, it seems like I don't know anything. I barely remember how to breathe.
Turn around, I tell myself. Turn around. Father Daddy wanted it to be this way. You have to trust him.
Slowly, I force myself to turn around. My heartbeat is so loud in my ears that I strain to listen in case they want to talk to me. Will they be giving me instructions now? What am I supposed to do? I really don't know.
Only, I sort of do know. I know what's going to happen eventually, anyway. I saw it all when Obedience had her ceremony.
And I feel it inside me again. My demon. It wakes up, pulsing. It fills me with a red heat, hungry to see what happens next.
Brother Owen and Father Daddy are both looking right at me. Maybe they know how I’m suddenly on fire. Maybe they can hear it too.
Or maybe Father Daddy told Brother Owen about my demon. I know he said there's nothing wrong with me, but then…. why are we doing this now? Today? It must be some kind of emergency.
“Angel,” Father Daddy calls out. “Come closer, girl.”
I force my feet to move. I feel the hard, dusty boards beneath my toes. Someone must have swept in here, but it's still gritty. I even hear the skin of my heels on the floor. That, and the sound of my breath. Those are the only sounds as I walk carefully forward, pinching the sides of my shift closed. I feel a breeze sliding across my belly underneath it.
I feel so naked. The demon groans.
Brother Owen holds a hand out in midair, beckoning me with his fingers. I swallow, hard. Am I supposed to say something?
It's all I can do to try to remain calm as I approach the platform. I stop just before it, waiting for instructions.
“Come up here with us,” Father Daddy murmurs. His eyes are green. I never really noticed that before. They are intense and dark, almost as dark as the forest in shadow.
I have to let go of my garment to raise my knee to step up. I feel it slide open almost all the way to my armpits. Brother Owen's eyes flicker toward my side and I wonder how much of me he just saw.
“It's all right,” Father Daddy says in a low voice. “You don’t have anything to be worried about. We will help you. We're here to help.”
I stare at him, trying to connect. I want to know if this is punishment for my confession. I feel the answer must be in his eyes. Is this one of the traditional forms of discipline? Is that why the aunties had to leave?
But there's nothing but intens
e curiosity in his eyes. Well… actually, there is something else. Something that burns.
