Maelstrom

by Susanna Strom

  Pastor Derek lapsed into a stunned silence for a few minutes. “That’s intolerable, a gross perversion of Christianity,” he said at last, his voice full of resolve. “I knew that God had spared me for a reason, and I suspect that this is it. Somebody needs to stop Pastor Bill and show these poor people that he’s a false prophet.”

  “I agree. Somebody needs to stop Pastor Bill, but I’m a little leery of finding meaning in anything nowadays. Our escape plan just made things worse. Hannah and I are locked up. Pastor Bill has seen through her meek and obedient act. My friends have no idea where I am. It all feels pretty hopeless.”

  “I get that,” Pastor Derek said. “Your plan backfired and you’re discouraged. It doesn’t mean you failed. Keep the faith, Kenzie. You’ll find a way to try again.”

  Painfully bright light suddenly flooded the room, and a few seconds later a key rattled in the lock. Shielding my eyes with my hand, I crawled back to the middle of the wall.

  Pastor Bill strolled into the room. “I have wonderful news,” he declared with a bright, unnerving smile. “Thanks to your woeful influence upon sweet Hannah and your ill-conceived attempt to drive her away, I’ve concluded that God wants me to formally take her under my wing.”

  The notion of Hannah under any part of Pastor Bill gave me the heebie-jeebies. “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “An intervention is called for, a strong, guiding hand to bring her back into the fold and show her the error of her ways. Nip her recalcitrance in the bud, as it were. So, instead of waiting two months to marry the girl, we’ll wed tomorrow.”

  The world stopped spinning. My mind rioted. Bile clogged my gorge.

  “I have a better idea.” The words that fell from my lips took me totally by surprise. I didn’t think I was capable of speech, least of all coming up with a better idea.

  “Yes?”

  “Hannah is a sweet girl, but how much of a challenge will a malleable, inexperienced teenager be to a man of your talents? You know how to manipulate people, to wrap them around your little finger. This little cult you set up demonstrates that. Really, how hard will it be for you to bring Hannah to heel?”

  Pastor Bill folded his arms over his stomach and cocked his head to one side. “I’m intrigued. Please continue.”

  “God told you to take four Eves, right? And you only have two, Rebecca and Justine.”

  He nodded.

  “That means you have two vacancies in your Eve squad.”

  “Yes.” His eyes narrowed, then he smirked. “What are you proposing?”

  “I propose a simple reshuffling of your plans. Save the number four slot for Hannah. Marry her in two months, when she turns eighteen. It can’t hurt to wait two months, can it? Not when you have something much more worthy of your talents to keep you busy.”

  “Get to your point, Mackenzie.”

  “Marry me tomorrow, instead of Hannah. Think about it. Who was the instigator of this little rebellion? Who led Hannah astray?”

  “Hmmm. If I believe that you’re such a troublemaker, why shouldn’t I just take the girl to wife and keep you locked up?”

  “Because what I’m proposing would be a lot more fun.” I waggled my brows suggestively. “I’m a few years older than Hannah. Experienced. Stubborn. Who better to test your skills and your strong hand. Wouldn’t you like to get the best of me? Show me the error of my ways? If you want to nip at anything, shouldn’t it be me?” His hot gaze followed my hand as I touched the fading bruise that Ripper had left on my neck. “I already confessed that I like it rough, remember? Wouldn’t you enjoy trying to break me? Make me repent and grovel?” I smiled, showing him my teeth, daring him to take me up on it.

  My plan was the stuff of nightmares, but I’d say anything—anything—to get him to agree to it. If one of us had to face the horror of marrying Pastor Bill, better me than a seventeen-year-old girl.

  Even though we were separated and might never find each other again, Ripper had saved the day once again. I remembered all the self-defense lessons he gave me. How to handle a blade. The kill spots on the human body. The tiny knife hidden in my boot.

  I like all of Mac’s impulses, especially the violent ones.

  Pastor Derek was right. Somebody had to stop Pastor Bill. The solution was simple, a single act that would help set the world right. I knew that Pastor Derek wouldn’t approve. I couldn’t expect a sincere Christian minister to endorse premeditated murder.

  It fell to me.

  Pastor Bill wouldn’t survive our wedding night.

  SEVENTEEN

  Kenzie

  “Give me your necklaces.”

  Rebecca held out her hand, an expression of polite expectation on her face. Justine—my other future sister wife—stopped laying out my bridal clothes and turned to watch us. After dumping a pail of hot water into the tub, Nicole looked our way, too. My hand flew to my throat, and I clutched at Ripper’s dog tags and my birthday necklace.

  Over my dead body.

  I couldn’t say that, of course, not after I instigated this little charade. I smiled at Rebecca. “I’ve been giving it some thought. These necklaces symbolize my connection to my old, sinful life. I was planning on giving them to Pastor Bill tonight, before we consecrate our union.”

  I must be a better actress than I thought if I could deliver that line without gagging.

  Rebecca’s brow wrinkled as she considered my words, then her mouth turned down. Was it my defiance that made her frown, or the reminder that Bill and I would supposedly be consecrating our union?

  Rebecca reveled in her role as Eve number one and the power it gave her to make people hop-to. I swore I’d stepped into one of those bizarre TV reality shows about plural marriage, where jealousy and resentment simmered right below the serene surface. Except it was hard to swallow the idea that this pretty young woman would fume at the prospect of sharing her husband—Pastor Bill for crissake—with anybody. Bossing people around and access to warm cinnamon rolls couldn’t make up for the sheer ghastliness of being Mrs. Pastor Bill.

  “Let her keep the necklaces,” Nicole said. “It sounds like giving them to the pastor is part of Mackenzie’s plan to make amends for her earlier defiance.”

  With his colossal ego, I bet Pastor Bill hadn’t shared the details of our arrangement with anyone, not even his first wife. Far better for him to let everybody believe that he’d broken my insubordinate spirit during his visit to my cell. He’d expect me to make nice in public, then we could play our twisted little dominance game in private.

  Twenty-four hours from now, he’d be dead. I might be, too, if my plans went awry. No doubt his deacons would kill me if they found their beloved leader’s body before I could escape the camp.

  Half an hour ago, standing before a full-length mirror in Pastor Bill’s lavish bungalow, I’d tilted my head back and forth, studying my reflection. I scarcely recognized myself. I had the same light brown hair, the same gray eyes, and the same full lips. Yet something about my face—the planes and angles perhaps—looked unfamiliar, as if the muscles and ligaments beneath my skin had subtly altered, tightening here, slackening there, contorting my face into that of a stranger.

  I’m unraveling the ties that bind me to this life.

  Is this how Ripper felt before he went on a mission? Determined to succeed, hoping to survive, but willing to die if that’s what it took to achieve his goal?

  I had to be careful not to arouse suspicion. Nothing about my demeanor could hint at my plans. If I looked anxious or furtive or angry, Pastor Bill’s people would smell a rat.

  You’d think it would be hard to keep up the ruse with the possibility of my impending death hanging over me, but I was oddly unruffled. My heart didn’t race. I wasn’t gasping for breath. Instead of flailing about, wondering what I could do to save Hannah and to make things right, I had a concrete plan. A mission. That certainty brought peace of mind.

  “I suppose that’ll be okay,” Rebecca said, her lips twisted into a petul
ant expression.

  Bet she was a mean girl back in high school.

  “Your bath is ready, Kenzie.” Nicole swished her hand through the water. I glanced into the tub where bubbles swirled around a tennis ball-sized orb. I inhaled slowly, filling my nostrils with the scent of orange blossoms.

  “You’ll want your skin to smell like flowers on your wedding night,” Rebecca said. The saccharine tone did nothing to disguise her spite.

  Had the bitch dug through my backpack? I’m surprised she didn’t keep the fancy bath bomb for herself, but maybe she’d rather deploy it as a weapon against a potential rival for the pastor’s attentions. Remind me that she could take anything that was mine. Remind me of my past life and everything I’d lost.

  I’m going to be all soft and slippery and sweet smelling when I get out of the water.

  I gripped the edge of the copper tub. The fragrance of orange blossoms was inextricably linked to my memories of my last night with Ripper, when I’d teased him with those words. Memory could be my undoing, the only thing capable of piercing the armor I’d wrapped around my heart.

  Later. I would close my eyes and think about Ripper later, after I took care of Pastor Bill.

  “It smells wonderful.” I climbed into the tub and sank to my chin into the warm water.

  Nicole rubbed a bar of soap over a wet washcloth. “Hold out your arm, please.” She scrubbed my limbs, as if I were a toddler incapable of doing it for myself. “Dunk your head.”

  I obeyed, then sat up straight, water streaming over my face and back. Nicole poured shampoo onto her palm, then began to massage it into my damp hair. The scent of coconut and ginger wafted through the air. I squeezed my eyes shut, as if protecting them from the lather, but it wasn’t soap that made my eyes sting. No. It was the memory of Ripper’s strong hands working the same coconut-ginger shampoo through my wet hair.

  I ducked under the water again. Sitting up, I sluiced the remaining lather from my hair.

  “Justine, get a bucket of water to rinse the shampoo out of Kenzie’s hair,” Rebecca barked. No question who was the top dog in their relationship. Justine scurried from the cabin, returning a few minutes later.

  Rebecca dumped a bucket full of cold water over my head. “There you go,” she said sweetly.

  Sputtering from the shocking inundation, I stood and stepped out of the tub. I’d had more than enough of this infernal bath. Nicole and Justine rubbed me down with a pair of thick towels.

  Rebecca’s gaze swept up and down my naked form, lingering on the laceration on my shoulder, the angry red burn on my calf, and the fading bruises that still mottled my body.

  She smirked, obviously unimpressed.

  Nicole wrapped me in a plush, white terry cloth robe, similar to the one I’d donned at the Cherry Blossom Bed & Breakfast. Pastor Bill’s people must have raided one of those swanky ski resorts and hauled off furniture, bedding, rugs, and fluffy robes.

  The rest of The Golden Rule Church Camp was rustic and strictly utilitarian. Pastor Bill’s private cabin was kitted out with a carved mahogany, four-poster bed with matching nightstands and dressers, a brocade sofa, French Aubusson rugs, and oil paintings. All too fussy and ostentatious for my taste, but—unsurprisingly—not for old Bill’s.

  “You mustn’t see your groom before the ceremony, so you’ll stay here,” Rebecca said. She looked at her watch. “It’s a little after one. We’ll be back at five to help you dress. You should try to nap.” She glanced at the four-poster bed. “Justine put fresh sheets on the bed this morning. Try not to muss them too much. Bill likes a freshly made bed. It’s one of his little quirks, but I’m sure you’ll learn about all of his...proclivities very soon.” She gestured to Nicole and Justine. “Ladies, we’ll be on our way. Kenzie needs to rest up for her wedding night. Bill can be very exhausting.”

  “You’re too kind.” My smile was as fake as hers.

  Rebecca bent over and picked up my boots, frowning as she scrutinized them. “So clunky and unfeminine! Totally unsuitable for one of the pastor’s Eves.” She tucked them under her arm. “We’ll bring you something more appropriate to wear for the ceremony.”

  “Of course I wouldn’t wear them at my wedding.” My mind scrambled for an excuse to keep the boots and the knife hidden inside. “But old boots would be appropriate for working in the greenhouse. I should keep them.”

  Rebecca tilted her head. “Didn’t anyone explain to you how things work around here?” Her condescending tone raised my hackles. “Eves aren’t assigned to jobs. Taking care of Pastor Bill, meeting his needs, is our only occupation. You won’t need these ugly old boots.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, then snapped it shut. If I made her suspicious, Rebecca might examine the boots and find my concealed knife.

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  “Okay,” Rebecca echoed, removing a key from her pocket. Snapping her fingers, she signaled Nicole and Justine to follow her from the cabin. The key jangled in the lock. After a minute, I twisted the knob, confirming that she’d locked me in.

  Damn. I had a little less than four hours to find a replacement weapon.

  I glanced around the cabin. Pastor Bill must either eat in the dining hall or have his meals sent over from the kitchen. I’d check all the drawers to be sure, but without a kitchenette, the place was unlikely to hold a handy set of knives. I’d start at the bed and work my way around the room.

  I searched the nightstand drawer on the right side of the bed and found only a Bible and a box of tissues. When I pulled open the nightstand drawer on the left side of the bed, I recoiled.

  A veritable cornucopia of lube and sex toys filled the space. A battery-powered vibrator, a dildo, anal beads, handcuffs.

  Pastor Bill was kinky. Nothing wrong with that, on principle. Still, the idea of Bill using any of these items on one of his Eves was enough to put me off my feed, as Aunt Debbie used to say. I slammed the drawer shut, then reconsidered and reluctantly searched the nightstand for any potential weapon. Nothing, unless I wanted to try to take Bill out with a pair of nipple clamps.

  His dressers held only clothing and extra blankets. Blank notebooks and pens filled the drawer of the small desk. Could I kill a man with a pen? Probably not, but I’d keep it in mind as a weapon of last resort. I tasted acid as frustration ate a hole in my stomach. I started searching a small cabinet under a window. On the top shelf, I found several bottles of wine, wine glasses, and a corkscrew bottle opener.

  I turned it over and touched the stainless steel tip. It was sharp and could probably pierce skin, although precisely how to use it as a weapon would take some planning. Would I have to twist it to make it go deep? Still, it was the only remotely lethal thing I’d found in the cabin.

  I carried it over to the bed. The side with all the sex toys had to be the pastor’s, so I tucked it under the pillow on the opposite side.

  Returning to the cabinet, I started to close the door when I noticed a pile of brochures and papers on the bottom shelf. The top one caught my eye, a visitor’s guide to The Dalles Dam with a photo of the massive concrete structure on the cover. Somebody had drawn a circle around the spillway, with five black Xs marked along its length. We’d heard five separate explosions when the dam blew up. Under the black circle, Back 2 Eden was scrawled across the front of the magazine.

  I sank onto the floor and sat cross-legged in front of the cabinet. With trembling hands, I reached for the pile of papers.

  Leafing through the stack, I found visitor’s guides from the other dams along the Columbia River: Bonneville, John Day, McNary. My eyes widened at the sight of a brochure from the Hanford Site, the nation’s largest repository for radioactive and nuclear waste. Next, I found a magazine with a cover story about climate change and the danger of wildfires. An article from some environmental group spelled out how the dams on the Columbia warmed the river water and imperiled the native salmon. With trembling fingers, I picked up a brochure from FEMA—the Federal Emergency Management Agency�
��entitled “Creating a Fire-Safe America.” Travel guides for Portland, Seattle, and Boise were next. Black Xs were slashed across the words Portland and Seattle.

  I dropped the stack of papers on the floor, my heart battering my chest. Five explosions brought down The Dalles Dam. Portland had burned to the ground. Did the black X mean that Seattle was gone, too? Was Pastor Bill responsible for all this destruction? Was he the driving force behind Back 2 Eden?

  Hannah had told me that the pastor sent Ripper, Kyle, and Sahdev off to track down the bomber. If Bill was behind the bombs, the mission was bogus, a ploy to get the men out of the picture. Had he always intended to make me one of his Eves?

  A loud tapping against the window over the cabinet made me jump. I shoved the pile of papers back into the cabinet before standing. Nicole and Hannah stood outside the window.

  Pushing on the top sash, I slid the window open. I couldn’t escape through the window, which had been covered with exterior security bars—Bill must be paranoid about his safety—but we could talk through the opening.

  “Did you know about the bombs?” I demanded, my gaze fixed on Nicole.

  “What do you mean? The bomb that supposedly killed Ripper?”

  “No.” I retrieved the visitor’s guide for The Dalles Dam from the cabinet and held the cover toward them. “Did you know that Pastor Bill is responsible for blowing up the dam?”

  Nicole leaned forward, studying the incriminating image. I held up the article about the dangers to fish caused by the dams, the FEMA report on fire safety, and then the Portland tourist guide with the city’s name x-ed out.

  “Looks like he burned down Portland, too. And maybe Seattle.” I waved the Seattle guidebook at her.

  Nicole paled. “I had no idea. Dammit. I was such a fool.”

  Hannah slung an arm around Nicole’s shoulders. “My mom always said, when you know better, you’ll do better. You know better now, and look what you’ve done for me.” Hannah turned her eyes toward me. “I’m supposed to be locked in my room, and Nicole is supposed to be my jailer. She let me out to come talk to you.”