Still, Todd hesitated.
“For God’s sake, untie me so I can help her,” Nate hissed. “Or, if I ever get out of this, I swear, I’ll kill you myself.”
With a frightened glance around to make sure no one was paying attention, Todd moved behind him. While feigning interest in the ceremony, he loosened the knot at Nate’s wrists.
When he was free, Nate had Todd come around in front to hide him while he untied his own feet. Then, struggling to retain his equilibrium and his footing, he got up and slipped into the crowd, which was humming and swaying along with the cadence of Ethan’s voice as he prayed.
Closing her eyes to avoid seeing the crowd, Rachel focused her thoughts on Nate. They’d given her something, a drug, that made it difficult to remain lucid. The noise around her seemed so loud, deafening, the movement dizzying. What was happening? I love you. Nate had said that. I’m pretty sure I’ve loved you since that night at my condo….
Or was it Ethan? Ethan stood next to her, spreading her legs and anchoring each ankle to a separate corner of some weird bed. Rachel fought him, but it was no use. She had no strength left. She began to shake.
Ethan was at the height of his glory. He’d never felt so powerful. This wasn’t a ritual he was performing in the pit for the pleasure of a few trusted members. He was giving the entire church a spiritual experience they’d never forget, one he’d long dreamed about. He’d once idolized Charles Manson, but this was far beyond anything Manson had been able to accomplish. It was on a whole new scale.
“Praise the Lord!” he cried, and relished the echo that came back to him. The religious fervor was electrifying.
He looked to Bart—his lover, his best friend, the one person who knew him better than anyone else—and believed he saw admiration in his normal eye.
Lifting his robe, Ethan tied it above his waist, proudly displaying his manhood to the cheering and whistles of all. He’d taken Viagra an hour ago, just in case he ran into any problems on the performance end. But he was so pumped up on adrenaline, the precaution had no doubt been unnecessary.
Still, he was the Holy One, the first to consummate this sacred marriage. He had to put on a good show.
It was time to bury the sheath of power he’d preached about. And he didn’t plan to be gentle. The more degrading this was for Rachel, the more he’d enjoy it. The more Bart would enjoy it, too.
The crowd was ready. Bart could barely hold them back. There was even one man, wearing the hooded robe, who was too eager to wait. He’d worked his way around to the side and was approaching the altar.
Ethan would’ve yelled for Bart to make the man take his rightful turn, but he didn’t want to break the momentum. Why ruin this climactic moment? Let the over-eager bastard watch the action up close. It wouldn’t hurt anything.
“And now I mount the Vessel!” He started to climb onto the altar, only to be yanked back by the man he’d thought so harmless a few seconds before.
“What are you doing?” He tried to push the hooded figure away but couldn’t. Knowing the ritual would be ruined if he got angry, he fought to wriggle out of the grip that held him so tightly.
It was no use. He stopped trying when he felt the man’s arm go around his neck and the barrel of a pistol nudge his left temple.
“Drop your skirt before I put a bullet in your head.”
Nathan Mott! But Bart was supposed to have taken care of him. According to Bart, he’d been shot twice last night!
Fingers shaking, Ethan untied the knot in his robes and let them drop, and the crowd went silent. Everyone was beginning to realize something was wrong. The Covenanters stared at him through the slits in their hoods as if they couldn’t believe what they were seeing. Even Bart didn’t speak. Or move. That frightened Ethan as much as anything. It meant Bart had no idea what to do, which was completely unlike him. Bart had an answer for everything.
“Tell your g*y lover to untie Rachel.” Nate’s voice growled in his ear.
Gay lover. He knew. How? And what now? How did he get out of this? Nate didn’t seem to be doing well. He was hurt and sweating profusely; the dampness came through his robes. But it didn’t take much effort to pull a trigger. Not for a man as determined as Nate. As far as Ethan could tell, there wasn’t any way out of this. All he could do was buy time until Bart came to his rescue.
“Who—who are you?” he asked. “What do you want with me?”
“You heard me. Do it now or say goodbye to your people.”
Finally, Bart stepped forward, but he stopped well short of them.
“Untie…” Ethan’s voice failed him. Pretending it was because Nate had too tight a grip, that it was choking him, he tried again. “Untie the Vessel.”
The one eye of Bart’s that focused correctly cut between him and his captor. “Mr. Mott, put the gun down,” he said coolly. “Even if you shoot Ethan, you won’t be getting out of here. Neither will Rachel.”
That wasn’t the response Ethan had expected. Had he heard correctly?
“Unless you want your prophet’s brains blown all over your bathrobe, I’d untie Rachel,” Nate responded. “Now.”
Ethan could feel Nate’s tension and his struggle to remain coherent. He was afraid Nate might get confused or panic and fire, anyway. He could hear how hard Nate was breathing. “He’ll shoot me, Bart! Don’t mess around. Untie her!”
When Bart continued to hesitate, Ethan’s panic escalated. Bart didn’t seem particularly concerned about whether or not Ethan was going to die. This was the man who supposedly loved him? What was going on?
“What are you waiting for?” Ethan cried. “Do you want me to be murdered, for God’s sake?”
“Of course not,” Bart replied. “But there are other considerations.”
It wasn’t until that moment that Ethan realized the frenzied thoughts that had passed through his brain a second earlier were actually right on target. Bart didn’t care if he died. Bart had played him, had known from the beginning that he had issues with his sexuality and had set out to seduce him. He’d been using Ethan the whole time. “You bastard,” he shrieked. “You said you loved me.”
“I love all God’s children,” Bart murmured, and Ethan immediately recognized it as something he might’ve said himself.
“You love no one but yourself!”
“Are we so different? You have to understand, Ethan—this might be the only way for the church to survive.”