His sermon over and sealed with a prayer, the Prophet waves at his faithful as the inferno burns, the flames at the top still high, the sides smoldering with deep orange embers. “Go now, under the light of a loving God and with the blessing of your Prophet.”

“Amen!” ricochets around the clearing, and the crowd begins to disperse. The Heavenly police officers help herd the mass of people away from the fire and toward the road. I take a chance to look around for Adam, but he’s not here. Tamping down my disappointment, I survey the rest of the pavilion.

Senator Roberts still hovers at my back, but now he’s speaking to someone else. I want to shrink, to disappear into nothing so he won’t notice me anymore, but I can tell that isn’t going to happen.

“I like you in white,” he’d whispered as the Prophet gave his Christmas Eve sermon.

My skin crawls, and I take deep breaths to calm myself. Eve’s fingers graze my leg, and I grab her hand, keeping the forbidden bit of comfort hidden beneath the voluminous robes.

Glancing to the side, I see Adam’s mother rising from her chair and being escorted away by several armed men. What does she think of this pageantry, of the filthy empire her husband has created?

I get out of my own head and squeeze Eve’s fingers. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

She doesn’t respond but leans into me a bit. A little girl of no more than five walks down the row of Maidens, her eyes wide as she inspects us. I try to imagine what we look like to her. Creepy maybe? A line of ghosts with shattered souls hidden beneath white veils?

Her mother, wearing a dress that almost touches the floor, walks up and takes her hand. “Come on, baby.”

The girl resists her mother’s pull, her big brown eyes focused on me. “Can I be a Maiden one day?”

My stomach churns, and I fight the urge to dry heave.

The mother leans down. “If you are faithful and obedient, you may be chosen by the Prophet.”

The girl nods. “I will be. And then I can be a Maiden, too.”

Not if I can help it. Just looking at her angelic face and bright eyes changes something inside me. I watch her walk away, hand in hand with her mother, her steps light. I came here for Georgia, knowing it was too late to save her. She was dead and gone, vengeance my only mission. But watching that little girl, seeing hope in her eyes—the false hope put there by the Prophet—I realize that maybe Georgia led me here to do more than just avenge her death. Maybe I’m here to end this place—not for revenge, but to save any more girls from going through this hell.

“Delilah!”

I snap my head up and find Grace standing in front of me. “Yes?”

She bobbles the remote in her hand, her face pinched. “I was speaking to you. Senator Roberts would like to meet with you now.”

Breaking my grip on Eve, I stand and follow Grace around the last Heavenly stragglers. The senator waits against the far rail, a grin on his handsome face.

I keep my steps steady as my hands break out into a clammy sweat.

“We’re clear!” someone yells. Several shouts of “clear” ring out, and a low steady beat begins to play through the sound system. Servers appear from the tents set up at the rear of the pavilions, scurrying out with trays of drinks and food. Protectors and dozens of men—suitors, I assume—remain.

Grace pulls off my veil, then works the robe buttons at my throat. I’m exposed, and there’s nowhere to hide from the senator’s too-interested gaze. Protectors and attendants stack up the pews and place them outside the pavilion, then replace them with plush chairs and couches.

She strips the robe off, and the blast of cool air chills my skin. My nipples harden embarrassingly, and I know the senator notices, because he licks his lips. A waft of warmth from the bonfire mixes with the chilly night, alternating hot and cold along my exposed body.

“Nice to finally meet you. Formally, I mean.” He holds out a hand.

Grace pushes me in the lower back, forcing me closer to him. “Best behavior,” she whispers.

I take his hand to shake, but he pulls me to him until we’re almost touching. The heels help, but I still have to tilt my chin up to catch his eyes.

“I’m Evan.” He doesn’t release my hand.

“Delilah.”

“What’s your real name?” His cologne is expensive, sophisticated and with subtle notes I can’t follow.

“Delilah.” I’m desperate to rip my hand away from his, but the heavy necklace around my throat reminds me that anything I do will have consequences—bad ones.

“That’s how you’re going to play it, Delilah?” One side of his lips quirk. He’d be handsome if I didn’t know what a horrible, ghoulish soul lives inside of him.

“I’m not playing anything.” I silently scream for Adam to appear, to do something, anything to get me out of this man’s grasp.

“We’ll see.” He glances at my lips.

I lean back instinctively, and he laughs, a deep-throated sound that raises the hair along the back of my neck.

“This is going to be a fun little chase, isn’t it?” He leans closer, invading my space. “Even though we both know it’s going to end with you tied to my bed for however long I want.”

“Fuck you.” I don’t think about the words before they spill out.

His eyes widen. “Oh, Delilah. I like that very much.” He pulls my unwilling hand to his crotch so I can feel his growing erection. “I love the ones that fight.”

“Yeah?” I grip his dick hard.

He yells, and the shock at my neck makes me stagger backwards.

“Delilah!” Grace rushes over and grabs me by the hair. “I’m so sorry, Senator. This one is willful to the point that she needs additional—”

“It’s fine.” Evan holds up a hand and uses the other to adjust himself in his pants. “Completely fine. In fact, I’d like to discuss this little wildcat with the Prophet sooner rather than later.”

Grace pulls my hair harder, and I have to arch my back to keep the follicles from ripping away. Evan peruses my body with open lust, and I consider throwing an elbow to escape Grace’s grip. But that would only lead to more pain for me. Not escape. Never that.

“Let her go.” He ices his tone, and Grace reluctantly obeys, loosening her hold.

I sidestep her and cross my arms over my chest as a chunk of the bonfire structure crashes in on itself, sending a rush of heat blowing past and fading cinders floating through the air.

“I’d like you to put her robe back on.” He finally releases me from his gaze and turns to Grace.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible. The Maidens have been specially prepared for the evening.” Grace shakes her head.

“I don’t want anyone else looking at her.” He moves toward Grace, who, to my shock, takes a step back.

His proprietary tone sets my teeth on edge. I’m not some toy that he can buy. Then again, I remind myself, that’s exactly what I am—one of the Prophet’s whores that he will sell to whomever pays the most.

Grace stands firm this time. “I understand, but until we have a completed arrangement between you and the Prophet, Delilah belongs to Heavenly, and the Prophet will do with her as he sees fit.”

He clenches his jaw. “Take me to him.”

“Again, I can’t do that. He’s about to begin his—”

“Welcome to the real celebration!” The Prophet walks around the bonfire, his crimson robe flecked with gold.

Grace takes me by the elbow and leads me away, Evan’s gaze heavy on my back. She laughs a little. “Anticipation will make him even more desperate. And then, once he offers the right price, I’ll be rid of you.” She shoves me back into my chair. “Stay here until it’s time.”

Time for what? I don’t ask. She wouldn’t tell me anyway. Instead, she wanders off among the hungry suitors, some of them forming circles around the Maidens.

The Prophet’s voice booms through the sound system. “The winter solstice is finally upon us, a time when we celebrate the gifts of our Heavenly Father as well as those from the Father of Fire!”

I glance at the people gathered nearby. Not one of them bats an eyelash when the Prophet mentions what I can only assume is the devil. One of the suitors strikes up a conversation with Evan, but he keeps an eye on me. I wish for my robe and veil.

“This year there is much to celebrate, my friends. A beautiful crop of Maidens, the expansion of our Ministry, and the beginning of Monroeville. I’d like to thank all of you for coming and making our mission possible.” He walks toward my pavilion, the fire raging at his back. Despite the possibility of the structure falling over and crushing him with flames, he isn’t afraid. “As a reward, I offer you this free access to my blessed Maidens, as well as other delights.”

At his word, several nude women file out of the tents set up behind the pavilions. I recognize a few faces from the Chapel, but they look through me. Drugged and empty, they strut into the crowd of suitors.

“Indulge, and let your celebrations be in the name of your Prophet.

I turn to face him, refusing to watch the scene behind me as it devolves into debauchery.

“Maidens, come to me, your father.” He catches my eye and motions to me.

The necklace at my throat tingles, a reminder to comply. I’m not the only one who feels it, since Maidens file past me toward him, and I join.

A braying noise cuts through the sound of talking, and a Spinner leads a lamb through the clearing toward the Prophet.

I swallow hard. Adam always calls me “little lamb.” As I see the true embodiment of his words, a deep foreboding falls over me. It “baas” again and lets the Spinner lead it toward the charlatan in the crimson robe.

“On your knees,” Grace hisses and pushes me down in front of the Prophet. All the Maidens drop in a line as the Spinner holds the lamb nearby. It’s still somewhat small, not quite an adult. Its dark eyes don’t seem to focus on anything in particular, and I almost envy how oblivious it is.

“The Book of Leviticus tells us ‘you must sacrifice as a burnt offering to the Lord a lamb a year old without defect.’” The Prophet pulls a long, curved knife from his robe. “And the Father of Fire loves nothing more than the pleasing smells of freshly-spilled blood and roasting meat.”

The Spinner grabs the animal’s chin and lifts it sharply, its throat exposed. It shifts on its feet but doesn’t complain.

Run. The word is on repeat in my mind as I will the sacrifice to flee and save itself. My silent request doesn’t stop the Prophet’s blade. The lamb protests then falls silent as its blood spurts to the ground and its legs give way. I can’t feel anything, my body going silent as I watch this needless slaughter. Deep red stains the innocent white fleece, the Prophet’s violence tainting even the purest of creatures.

Someone grabs the shoulders of my dress and rips it down. Other Spinners do the same down the line until the Maidens are nude except for the skimpy thongs. The Prophet speaks in a language I’ve never heard, then dips his hands in the lamb’s blood.

“For you are chosen.” He starts at the end of the row and rubs his bloodied hands on Eve’s chest. “Precious to your Prophet.” He continues down the line, and when he gets to me, he uses fresh blood. It’s still warm, and the unmistakable tang of copper fills my nose as he paints me with his mark of evil. “You will live forever in the light of my love.”

When he’s done, the Spinners get us up and herd us back to the pavilion where the suitors engage in carnal acts with the girls from the Chapel, or stare, transfixed, as the nude, bloodied Maidens return.

The fire intensifies, a wave of heat at my back like a sunburn.

“The Father of Fire is pleased!” the Prophet crows.

A suitor has a woman bent over my chair, her breasts bouncing as he rams her from behind. I don’t look in her dead eyes. Instead, I turn to watch the Prophet. He raises his bloodied hands to the sky. “Bring her!”

My breath freezes in my lungs as a Spinner shoves a woman into the clearing, her steps uneven, her body bloody and carved with a roadmap of runes and religious symbols.

I rush to the pavilion railing, but the sting at my neck tells me I can go no farther. “Sarah!”