The look on her face chills me to the fucking bone, which is saying something.

She’s in the grips of the LSD, her pupils huge as she watches me. I wonder what she sees, what picture my father painted for her as she sat by his side, his lecherous hands caressing her fair skin.

I know the litany, the lies, the promises of being the chosen one. But why does she look at me as if I’m a threat when it’s obviously the snake who was only moments ago whispering in her ear?

Noah snickers. “Do you see mine?”

His Maiden seems to be chasing invisible butterflies, her body swaying as she swirls and dives for whatever she sees. But I can’t take my eyes off Delilah for long. She’s beyond stunning, like a princess from some fairytale that normal children heard at bedtime. Every movement, every glance from her, sets me on alert. My palms sweat from the need to touch her, to drag her away from the drugged indulgence. But this is just the first of many visits to the Temple, and I’m rooted to the spot, frozen like always.

She relaxes on her pillows, her wide eyes taking everything in, but whenever she looks in my direction, her delicate brows draw together.

My father finishes with the last Maiden, sending her off to collapse onto her sister Maidens in a peal of giggles.

“Blessed are my Maidens, the chosen of God.” He raises his glass. Though his back is to me, I’m certain a smug grin rests on his lips. Asshole.

He nods toward the door, and Gray rises and opens it, allowing the Spinners back inside. Grace keeps her gaze on the floor, her earlier chastisement likely still ringing in her ears.

“Refill the plates of my chosen ones.” My father stands, surveying the feast of flesh on the floor before him. Some Maidens sleep, others laugh, still others trail their fingers through their hair and along the skin of their sisters. The drugs make everything new, sending a coursing current of electricity through their collective consciousness.

My gaze returns to Delilah. One of the girls is braiding her long white hair. Now she’s a wood nymph, completely at ease. Open, even.

The Spinners bustle back out and return with fresh platters of food. But by this time, the Maidens are too deep in the high to notice.

“Are we done?” Noah stage whispers. “I’ve got a couple of girls from the Chapel coming over.”

I sigh. “Not until he says we’re done. You know that.” Besides, I won’t leave until I know Delilah is safely away from my father.

“We don’t even get to do anything.” He points to his Maiden, still chasing butterflies, her nude body on full display. “I can’t touch that, so why am I here?”

“To serve God.” My father’s voice cuts through the hum of giggles, and his gaze settles on Noah. “And to please me. Do you have a problem with that?”

Noah straightens and clasps his hands behind his back. “No, sir.”

“Good.” My father shoots me a scornful look, as if I were the one who’d questioned him, then rises. “My good and faithful Maidens, our evening is at an end. You may return to the Cloister. Go with love and the knowledge that you are the very jewels upon the Lord’s heavenly crown.”

More giggles, and then the Spinners march in with the girls’ dresses.

I stand, my knees groaning from all the time spent on the wood floor. The Protectors stand at attention as the Maidens are dressed and herded from the room. The Spinners treat them gently under my father’s watchful eye, though I suspect the gloves will come off as soon as they arrive back at the Cloister.

Once the doors close, my father whirls on Noah. “If you have a problem with our rituals—”

“I don’t.” Noah flinches. Interrupting is one of the worst sins you can commit against the Prophet.

My father strides over, his jaw tight—and not just from his last procedure. “Return to your home. Pray to the Lord to grant you forgiveness for your errant ways.”

Noah nods, relief pushing from him like a wave over dry sand. “Yes, sir.”

My father smirks, cruelty in every line of his face. “Do you still have that lizard Adam gave you what, ten years ago on your birthday—the birthday I told you we no longer celebrate but Adam disobeyed me?”

My hands clench into fists behind me. I remember the lashing for that. In fact, I remember every one I’ve ever gotten. It was nine years ago, on Noah’s sixteenth birthday. Dad had outlawed birthdays for his faithful, demanding that we spend that day in contemplation of the Prophet’s ultimate divinity.

But Noah was only going to turn sixteen once. I took a chance, and I paid for it. Noah was allowed to keep the lizard, Gregory, but only after my back had been lashed so badly I had to be sent to the hospital.

“Yes, I still have him.” Noah’s words drip with apprehension.

“And didn’t you have a kitten or a puppy or something, too?”

“No.” Noah is smart enough to lie about his cat Felix.

“The lizard will have to do. Sacrifice it to the Father of Fire. Show him your repentance.”

Noah wilts at my side, though he keeps his face stoic. “Yes, sir.”

“You know the rules, Noah. Make sure you burn him alive. Then bring the ash and bone to the house. I’ll inspect them before bed.”

“Yes, sir.”

He cuts his gaze to me. “Eyes on the floor, Adam. Or do you need to relearn the lesson of deference?”

“No, sir.” I train my gaze on the curve of the pentagram beneath my feet while lava bubbles in my veins. Noah may be twisted and ruined, but somehow, a part of him survived. From the moment I gifted him that bearded dragon, he took care of it. Fed it, nurtured it, even took it out and carried it around on his shoulder. When he found Felix wandering around the compound, he took him in and did the same.

Noah falls in line with my father, and he’s done plenty of things that would make normal people shiver, but he still has a stripe of humanity emblazoned across his heart. My father is determined to stamp it out. Maybe it’s best if he does.

“Protectors.” He motions everyone to form a circle around him. “We are set upon our work with full hearts. Continue to do my will in all things, and you will be rewarded. Disobey me—” he shoots me a glare “—and face the consequences.”

“Yes, sir.” All in unison.

“We have the issue of Protector Newell to discuss.” He clasps his hands in front of him and adopts a thoughtful look, even though I know he’s already decided who he wants to fill the position. “God and the Father of Fire have both informed me that Trey Reynolds—one of our longtime associate pastors and a devoted servant to the ministry—is the correct choice. He will take over Newell’s Maiden. Parker?”

“Yes, sir.” Zion Parker steps forward, his bald pate shiny under the candlelight. Many of the Protectors are almost twice my age—their shirtless bodies pudgy and pale. Juxtaposed with the young, nubile Maidens, it makes my stomach turn.

“Have him and his family settled on the campus, and make sure his daughters are enrolled in the school. We don’t need any more worldly influences dirtying their minds.”

My father—though a charlatan through and through—is also a clever visionary of sorts. Instead of pulling Maidens from society, he’s decided to engineer the future of Heavenly Ministries through his separate schools for boys and girls. The schools, though new, are growing rapidly and solidifying the Prophet’s stranglehold on the community. Not to mention all the new additions that show up from the Cathedral.

“I’ll get to work on it first thing.”

“Good man.” My father pats him on the arm, then turns to me. “As you know, Newell was in charge of the celebrations for the winter solstice in a month. The Father of Fire will be displeased if we fail to honor him through our rite. Since you are the reason Newell is no longer with us, the preparations now fall to you.”

God-fucking-dammit.

“I expect this year’s celebration to be the best we’ve ever seen. You are required to work closely with Grace to get this done. I take it that won’t be a problem?”

“No, sir.” Not a problem, no. Likely a huge fucking calamity. But a problem? Not at all.

He regards me with a knowing smirk. “Good. And with that, our business is concluded. I expect you all to continue educating the Maidens as is your duty. Report any problems to me. We already have plenty of interest in this year’s crop, and the trials will be here before we know it. Otherwise, enjoy your spoils.” He grins, the wolf finally showing through.

“Yes, sir.” Another chorus of assent circles the room as we’re dismissed.

Noah hurries toward the door, and I follow.

Once we’re out in the night, a chill breeze cutting through our clothes with ease, he turns and faces me. “Not Gregory. He’s like a friend.”

“He’s a lizard.”

“He’s mine.” The word ends on a choked sound from his throat.

God, his face reminds me of when we were still kids. Or, perhaps, it was just when he was still a kid. I grew up fast once my father anointed himself the Prophet and began Heavenly Ministries. Five years separated Noah and me, but it may as well have been a lifetime. The anguish in his eyes turns into anger as he whirls and stomps toward our houses.

“Noah, come on.” I pointed toward one of the many golf carts on the property. “Let’s ride over. It’s freezing.”

“And make it go quicker? Kill Gregory faster?” Each of his steps thumps hard on the pavement.

“No.” I catch up and stuff my hands in my pockets. “I’ll walk with you.”

The movement brings the pain in my back to life, and I wonder if I’m bleeding through the bandages. Doesn’t matter.

“I can’t do it.” He runs a hand through his light brown hair. “I can’t.”

“You have to.”

“No.” He crosses his arms over his chest as we climb the first ridge toward the front of the campus. “I’ll take the lashing instead.”

“It won’t be just a lashing. Not for this. He’ll take it further, and you know it.”

He stops, his eyes wild as he turns to me. “He wouldn’t.”

“He would.” I hold his gaze. “To save face in front of his goons that heard his pronouncement. He definitely would. You know how this works, what he’ll do.”

“Fuck!” He walks a few more steps. “Maybe, maybe we could burn something else and then—”

“He said bones, Noah. Bones. He isn’t going to take anything else.” I want to save Gregory. I really do. But the price is too steep.

We trudge in silence, our breaths steaming out into the moonless night. I know Noah. I know he’s wracking his brain for any possible way to snow our father, to grant Gregory a reprieve.

When we make it to his house, next door to mine, we push through the back door and into the den area. Two girls from the Chapel are laid out on his couch, their faces painted in bright hues and one with a distinct white ring around one nostril.

“Out.” I hold the door open.

“But we were supposed to—”

“Out.” I keep my tone even as they rise and pull on their flimsy coats. I don’t recognize them, but I’ve probably met them before. The plastic surgery, fillers, and never-ending parties and coke have turned them into different people. Ruined and twisted, just as my father intended.

They hustle past me, their stripper heels clacking on the walkway outside. Noah has already disappeared upstairs. I follow and find him in his guest room, Felix purring in his lap and Gregory perched on his shoulder.

“I can’t.” Noah’s voice is thick, but he doesn’t shed a tear. Crying had been beaten out of us long ago. “I can’t burn him.”

“I know.” I sit next to him and give Gregory a look. His colors have faded, but he still appears mostly the same. He blinks at me, first one eye and then the next, as if to say “hello, youngster.”

Noah runs his finger down Gregory’s back, the pebbled skin reacting to the touch.

I sigh. “I’ll do it.”

Felix meows, his orange eyes large as he watches me.

Noah shakes his head. “I can’t burn him. I won’t. Not alive.”

“No.” I watch as he continues stroking Gregory. “The Prophet may think he’s all-powerful, but he won’t be able to CSI the cause of death on a lizard.”

Noah chokes on a laugh. Felix meows mournfully. Everything in the room grows a little sadder.

I hold out my palm. Gregory climbs onto it slowly as Noah turns away.

This won’t be the first time I’ve shed innocent blood in the name of the Prophet.

And I know it won’t be the last.