Noah helps me to my chair, then sinks into his with a sigh. We’re both beat up, but we’re stronger now than we’ve ever been. United.

My father sits at his desk, perusing us with his cunning gaze.

Castro sits off to the side, an assault rifle casually balanced across his thighs.

“Now that the solstice is over, we have a lot to discuss.” My father leans back in his chair and continues on as if we hadn’t just murdered an innocent girl, “The first phase of Monroeville is well on its way to completion. But there are other areas that need improvement. The land to the southwest needs to be completely cleared and the fields readied for planting this spring. Noah, I’m assigning that acreage to you.”

“Me?” Noah cocks his head. “No disrespect, Dad, but I don’t know a thing about farming.”

He waves a dismissive hand. “You don’t have to. The Father of Fire will provide. We’re in his good graces. Get the Caldwells from the hardware shop on board. They’ll help you get started with equipment and know-how. And Zion’s family owns a farm down near Andalusia. He’ll be your second-in-command.”

“Zion?” Noah is incredulous. “The same Zion who did this?” He points to his black eye and the blood crusting in his hair.

“That’s behind us. We all played the parts we had to. The Lord has forgiven Zion and so should you.” He turns to me. “You proved yourself last night. It took a little arm twisting, but you did what needed to be done.”

I don’t know if he expects me to thank him for forcing me to kill Sarah, but I’ll be damned if those words ever cross my lips.

He sighs. “Now that you’ve finally come into the fold, I’d like you to take a bigger role in running the Cloister. Grace has been adequate, and we’ll still continue to use her, but leaving a woman in charge of anything of importance is never a good idea. Women aren’t meant for leadership, her included.”

I cross one leg over the other and hide my wince as the wounds on my feet burn and ache. “What would you have me do?”

“The suitors. I’ve already been dealing with an over-eager one.” A sly smile twists his lips. “You may remember him, Evan Roberts, the senator.”

Of course I remember that piece of shit. I shrug. “I can’t keep up with everyone who comes and goes.”

“He was already here this morning, wanting to try on your Maiden for size.”

Everything in me tightens, as if I’m being pulled taut over a rack. “Oh?”

“Yes.” His smile turns into a smirk. “Took some detailed photos of her. Very in-depth. I saved a set for myself. Oh, and the video—the things he made her say while she cried—priceless.”

My nails dig into the arms of the leather chair, but I force myself to relax. He’s intentionally turning the screws, but I won’t let him see how much hate he unleashes with each twist. “Is he ready to pay up?”

My father shrugs. “He didn’t come to negotiate, so his eagerness is going to cost him. I put double the usual price on her, and he accepted without complaint. It’ll take him a week or so to scrape together the funds from offshore accounts and campaign funds, but he’ll get it. I’ve never seen a man so hungry for a Maiden before. It’s perfect, really. I’ve asked Miriam to come and give her one-on-one classes about extracting information, knowing what’s relevant, and getting that information back to me. She’ll be leading the senator around by his dick in no time.”

“What does any of this have to do with me?” I keep my tone unconcerned, even though I’m burning for every fucking detail he has to offer.

“First, you are not to leave any more marks on her. That was one of his requests that I think we can meet. He also asked that she not be touched at all until he comes to claim her.”

I still. “I’m expected to follow that request too?”

“No.” He opens his drawer to retrieve a joint. His book sits on the edge of the desk, the black leather cover hiding the tangle of insanity within the pages. He only takes it out around the winter and summer solstices, keeping it hidden away for the rest of the year. “She’s not bought and paid for, so as far as I’m concerned, you can carry on. But, no marks. He doesn’t want her marred.”

Acid pushes up my throat. I swallow hard. “Are you going to claim her before she goes?”

“That’s another one of his requests. A demand, really. He wants her pure or no deal.” He drops the book into a lower drawer and locks it. “I have to be honest.” He meets my eye again. “I’ve wanted to fuck her since the moment I saw her in the congregation. That weird white hair and skin get me hard every time.”

Don’t make a move. After what I did last night, strangling him with my bare hands seems easy.

“But.” He shrugs. “I’m going to let him have her virgin pussy. After all, he’s a senator, the most powerful client we’ve had yet. Getting a Maiden in his ear is far more valuable than some bitch’s twat, even if it’s the prettiest shade of pink I’ve ever seen.” He leers at me. “Hell, I was kind of hoping no one would claim her and she’d go to the Cathedral. Breeding her would be interesting. Maybe our kids would have that fairy shit going for them too.”

Even though his words are like razors cutting through the flesh of my ears, for once I’m glad that my father likes to hear himself talk. I’ll take whatever information he wants to give. Especially if he’s telling me that Delilah will be safe—at least for a week until she’s delivered to the senator.

“When’s the wedding?” Noah asks.

“A month.”

Part of the contract on the Maidens is that the claiming suitor must marry them. Otherwise, the Prophet wouldn’t get a real foothold. The suitor could toss them aside and move on to his next conquest. The main way to get the suitors to stick to the deal is to withhold the Maiden until the day of the wedding so that he’s desperate to fuck her, and happy to say “I do.” “You expect him to keep his dick out of her for a month? She should stay here.”

“I can bend the rules for him. Doesn’t matter to me if he fucks her every which way he pleases, as long as he shows up on the wedding day. I’ve already got plenty of video from his visit this morning that he definitely wouldn’t want getting to the press. So I’m not worried about his commitment.” He pulls out his coke box. “Aside from that, I have another set of suitors in line for most of the other girls. Seems like everyone is jumping the gun this year. I want you to speak with them, cool them off, tell them the Maidens need the year of training in order to be perfect helpmates. We can’t go selling them all off before I’ve had a chance to make sure they’re loyal. Not to mention I need some of them for the Chapel and the Cathedral. And I’ve been thinking, we’re going to lower the age limit for the Cloister to 16.” His eyes flash with greed. “We’ll get purer girls that way, easier to train, not stained by the outside world. We’ll get waivers from their parents, no problem.” He pauses and rubs his chin. “Maybe we should say 14 instead of 16. The purest virgin bodies.”

I swallow my disgust and change the subject. “So I’m supposed to babysit hard-up suitors and take over the Cloister on top of handling the contracts for Monroeville, collecting the cash from the dealers in Birmingham, and keeping our books clean for the IRS? Anything else you need me to do?”

He arranges a neat line of powder and gives me a harsh grin. “Oh, I think you did plenty last night.”

My guts churn. The hatred must show on my face because Castro taps the butt of his gun and gives me a withering look.

I stand, forcing my throbbing feet to bear my weight.

“But I do have one more little task for you.” He frowns as Noah struggles to rise, his body probably aching worse than mine. “That apostate we kicked out, the one you beat the shit out of a month or so ago, what was his name?”

“Drew,” Castro offers. “Something like that.”

A memory flutters and lands. “Davis? Chris Davis, the former lieutenant?”

“That’s the one.” My father shoots an imaginary pistol at me with his fingers. “He’s been snooping around the edges of the compound ever since we kicked him out. Doesn’t seem like he got the message the first time. Find him and make sure he gets it this go-around.”

I can barely stand, yet my father expects me to go MMA on Davis. Fuck, maybe I can just shoot the guy and call it a day.

“Out. I’ve got visitors coming. The mayor of Birmingham doesn’t need to see you two sorry sacks of shit, especially not for a Christmas tea.” He turns his attention to his coke habit as we limp into the foyer and down to the basement. I can feel blood oozing from my left foot, the one that took the brunt of the “safety” glass when I walked through it last night.

I dig the heels of my palms into my eyes to try and grind away the images that I know will haunt me for the rest of my life, however short that may be. But Sarah is still there, her drugged eyes wide, her blood spilling in a warm crimson rush.

“What should we do first?” Noah grabs a bottle from the dwindling supply behind the bar.

I force myself back to the here and now. “Well, Old MacDonald, I guess you need to get your ass over to the farmland and see how much work it’ll take to clear all that acreage.”

He groans and twists the cap off, letting it fall onto the wood floor and roll away. “Fuck that. I’d rather help you with Davis.”

“How can you help?” I poke him in the ribs.

He doubles over. “Motherfucker!”

“Those are cracked, you’re probably pissing blood, and let’s not even talk about the limp.” I take the bottle from him and swallow two huge gulps. The burn is getting easier, and I can see how Noah has fallen into the alcohol, drugging himself as best he can.

“I can drive.”

“I’ll get an address.” We’ll pay Davis a visit at his home. See if he wants to keep shitting where he eats. “But we’re going to have to play this one smart. My feet are fucked, the rest of you is fucked, and we can’t give him the idea that we’re weak.”

“I’m working on numbing it all.” He takes another big swig.

I snatch the bottle from him and smash it on the floor. “Don’t kill yourself just yet. We’ve got too much shit to do, and I’m not talking about our Prophet-assigned tasks.”

He wipes his mouth with his sleeve and nods, but casts a mournful glance at the wasted liquor. “Right. You’re right. I’ve got to get it together... One question.”

“Yeah?”

“Can we do it tomorrow?” He wraps an arm around his midsection. “I think I need to lie down.”

I shake my head but relent. “Sure, I guess. He didn’t give us a time limit.”

“Thank you.” He leans on the bar, all the bravado gone.

“I’ll get you back to your place.”

“You not coming?”

“Nah.” I hobble to the back door. “It’s almost time for me to see Delilah.”

He whistles and limps out behind me. “You think she wants to see you?”

“No.” I shrug. “But she’s going to.”