Ethan dabbed her forehead with a drop of water, and did the same over each of her closed eyelids and her heart. He spoke again—in Latin, if it was Latin—after which he had her kneel at his feet and gave her a morsel of bread and a sip of wine. “Praise the Lord,” echoed through the hall.
“And now, Brother Bart and I will do the anointing,” he said.
There was a rumble in the crowd, as if this was somehow unusual, but Rachel had nothing to judge by. She curled her fingernails into her palms and pictured Nate—the way he’d kissed her, the way he’d made love to her. It’d been the most difficult thing in the world not to give him everything she’d given before, but she was proud of herself for showing some restraint. He didn’t want her love, only her body.
“Rachel?”
She raised her eyes to see Ethan and Bart, the light above their heads creating an imperfect halo. “Yes?”
“Do you covenant to love us as we love you?”
Another sacrifice for the greater good. “Yes.”
“The Great Alpha and Omega opens his arms and his heart to you,” he said, and he and Bart smoothed hot oil over her whole body.
The chanting started again. This time Rachel could make out the words. “Bring me your heavy-laden, and I will give you rest… Bring me your heavy-laden, and I will give you rest… Bring me your heavy-laden…” The words and the motions seemed to blend and swirl. Bart’s hands no longer seemed as callused as before. His strong fingers, together with Ethan’s smooth ones, swept up the muscles along her spine, over her bu**ocks and down her legs in rhythm with the chanting.
Her goose bumps were gone by the time this portion of the ceremony was over. She was almost relaxed when Ethan told her to kneel so he could pray over her again. Some of his words were in English. Others seemed to be taken from some foreign or historic ritual she didn’t recognize.
When he’d finished, he drew a C on her forehead with a stick that’d been charred in the candle flame. It wasn’t hot enough to burn her, but it was sharp enough to scratch. As he etched the letter into her skin, everyone called out, “God be with you.” Then the lights went on and, at last, the women with the robe stepped solemnly forward to dress her.
“You make the perfect bride,” Ethan breathed as they belted her robe. He took her wedding ring off her finger, dropped it in his pocket and presented her to the crowd.
“I give you the High Vessel of the Holy One!”
26
When Nate finally allowed himself to drive to Paradise, he was angrier than he could ever remember being. It was the helplessness and the worry that were getting to him. He wanted to storm Paradise, kick the Holy One’s ass and take Rachel home. But even if he could figure out how to succeed against two hundred, he couldn’t make the attempt, and that put him on edge. He was approaching the compound, knowing he might get his own ass kicked instead, and that pissed him off even more.
But it had to be done. And there was a bright side. He’d been looking for a target ever since he’d watched Rachel leave, and the man at the gate gave him one. Nate met the twenty-something guy halfway to the guard’s station and left him on the ground, out cold. He could’ve taken the second guard, too, but he purposely hesitated long enough to let the man set off an alarm. He couldn’t fight too well or he’d reveal his training.
When the bell sounded, people poured out of the Enlightenment Hall like ants. Nate could hear them coming, the pounding of their feet, the shouts that rang through the air. “It’s Rachel’s husband!” “There’s a fight!” “Get Bart!”
Nathan knocked the second guard down and turned to face the two men who reached him first. It was a relief to be active, to discharge some of the anxiety that’d built up over the past hours. He managed to plow his fist into someone’s nose and to land a jab with his left hand, but after three or four punches they swarmed him. They were kicking him and hitting him from all sides, so he really let loose, but it was no good. There were at least forty—far too many.
“He’s a tough son of a bitch,” someone grunted as his foot connected with one body part or another.
Nate tried to draw his arm back to throw another punch but couldn’t move. They had a tight hold on every limb and were forcing him to the ground.
“He’s drunk. I can smell it on his breath.” This came from a man who shoved a knee in Nate’s gut. But Nate wasn’t drunk. He’d had a few beers and intentionally spilled some on his shirt, just to make his actions and demands appear authentic. The better he played his part the safer Rachel would be. Or so he hoped.
“Get my wife!” he shouted. “I want my wife. Rachel!” He sounded drunk, even to his own ears. Drunk and enraged. But only the enraged part was real.
“Where’s Ethan?” someone called. “If this guy gets loose…”
“He won’t get loose,” another man said. Then white-hot pain rocked through him as a fist slammed into his jaw.
Rattled, Nate shook his head to clear away the stars that burst across his vision, but the faces crowding around him, staring down at him, didn’t immediately come into focus.
“Rachel!” Nate called again, his voice growing hoarse. “Get my wife!”
“Why? It won’t do you any good to see her,” someone said. “She’s one of us now. You’re not getting her back.”
So they’d accepted her. That was a positive development for the mission. But it caused a fresh trickle of fear to pour through his blood. He didn’t want her here, with these people.
“Ethan’s on his way,” someone cried.
Another person began pressing the onlookers back. “Make room.”
“What’s going on?”
Nate recognized the voice even before he saw the face that went with it. Bartholomew. Gazing up at the man he’d first met in the desert, he noted the unmistakable determination.
“Get back,” Bart said to the onlookers and, a second later, Nate realized he’d been making space for Ethan, who was the next to peer down at him.
“He’s come for her, just like I told you he would,” Bart told his leader.
Ethan’s lips pressed into a thin line. “So? We’ll throw him out, just like I told you we would.” He nodded to the men surrounding them. They started to drag Nate toward the entrance, but he wasn’t ready to go. First, he wanted to see Rachel.