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People to rush in and hurry her away.
But no one came.
“I think we might be on our own,” I announced, walking over and sitting down beside Grace. I offered her my hand, and she sucked in another deep breath before wrapping her fingers around mine. “When you need to squeeze, you squeeze.”
MISSY
“Just hang in there,” I told Grace as she fought another contraction.
They were getting closer and closer together.
And if she didn’t get to a hospital soon, those babies would be delivered right there. And after my birth experience, where I damn well died, I was getting increasingly worried about whether they would all survive.
“After three babies…” she started, fighting to catch her breath. “Should this not get easier?”
I laughed softly, dabbing at her forehead with the bottom of my shirt. “I’m not sure that’s how it wor—” Movement at the door had me leaping to my feet and cutting me off. My friend from the bar had barely gotten the door open before I stormed forward. “You need to help her. She needs a hospital.”
He swung, and the back of his hand struck me across the cheek. I used the wall to steady myself, and my eyes instantly watered from the sting. “Take her,” he ordered, and two men rushed into the room and grabbed my arms.
“No!” I dug my feet in, fighting against them as they tried to pull me out the door. “No, she needs a hospital. She’s in labor. Grace!”
Her soft sobs slowly faded as I was dragged down the hall.
This time, I fought.
I swung my body from side to side and lifted my feet, trying to make it harder for the two men, continuing to struggle against their hold as they dragged me up a staircase, and my knees burned against the carpet.
The top floor was darker, but a strange glow shone from a crack in the door to my left.
It slowly eased open, and I realized the glow was from all the lit candles in the room. The men holding me shoved me through the doorway, and I scrambled to my feet. I spun around several times, counting the men who lined the walls. There were at least ten.
They wore hoods, and, with the lack of light, I couldn’t see their faces hidden beneath.
But that wasn’t the part that had me backing toward the door.
The bed in the center of the room had me doing that.
There were shackles connected to the top and bottom of the bed.
“Missy…” I looked around, my head turning frantically from one side to the other. “Thank you for joining us.”
One of the hooded men finally stepped out of line, and I noticed his robe looked a little different from the others. It had fancy golden accents around the hem, and while the others were tied at the waist with a simple rope, his tie was smooth and almost shimmery, like a satin scarf.
He pushed his hood back, letting it fall away, startling me for a moment.
He was an old man.
His face was sunken at the cheeks, his skin carved with wrinkles that prominently decorated his forehead and hung heavy below his eyes. He was probably well into his eighties, and the cane he leaned on was a telltale sign he was struggling. “I am Prophet Andrew. It is such an honor to be in your presence.” He gave a smile that some might find warm and kind if they saw him walking down the street, but that instantly sent an icy chill rushing across the room between us.
Goose bumps prickled my skin. “I can’t say the same.”
The smile was gone instantly, dropping straight off his weathered face. “I was hoping this might be more pleasant…”
I took a step forward, pushing my shoulders back. “You came after my child,” I hissed, clenching my fists at my sides. “Then you had that man… Isaac, break into my apartment and attack me.”
Prophet Andrew’s body jerked like I’d slapped him, his eyes shifting between the men filling the room. “Where is Isaac?”
He didn’t know.
