“Is that right?” Father Caleb examined the brightly colored champles in her suitcase with considerably more interest. Sarah knew he liked to have things that were exclusive to his use alone.
“They have different flavors and textures,” she continued. “That yellow one kind of tastes like lemonade and grape popsicles and the red one with green and yellow spots tastes like a cheeseburger.”
“Like a cheeseburger? What do aliens know about cheeseburgers?” Charlie demanded. “You’re lying!”
Sarah shrugged. “They don’t know anything about them. That’s just what I thought they tasted like.”
Father Caleb looked at her suspiciously. “I thought you said only the ruler was allowed to eat them.”
“He let me have some. I was an honored guest—an assistant to the Kindred diplomat.” Sarah raised her head proudly as she spoke. The men in this room didn’t need to know how her time with Sazar had ended. For all they knew, she had been treated like a queen on Alquon Ultrea.
“I don’t believe a word of it.” But Father Caleb was fingering the champles as he spoke, lifting them up and sniffing them with considerable interest. Sarah was certain he was going to try each and every one of them as soon as he was alone.
“It’s true,” she said and added, in an off-hand manner. “The brown ones taste like chocolate cream pie. I thought so, anyway.”
“Chocolate pie?” Father Caleb’s eyes filled with a greedy light. “You don’t say.”
“That’s what it tasted like to me,” Sarah said, shrugging again.
Of course she had never tasted the brown chample at all since Dod had warned them that it was strictly for medicinal uses. She remembered her thought that it might have the same properties as prune juice or laxatives and hoped fervently that she had been right.
She also hoped Father Caleb would take the bait. He had a sweet tooth which kept the sisters who ran the kitchens constantly baking. Of course, none of the women in the Compound were supposed to eat any of the sweets themselves—that might make them unsightly and fat. But The Prophet had whatever he liked whenever he liked and one of his favorite treats was chocolate cream pie.
“Well, we’ll see about all this at the proper time.” Father Caleb put down the brown chample but she noticed that he kept one hand on it possessively. “For now, I’m sending you to the women’s quarters in the Compound to be dressed for our ceremony.”
“What—now?” Sarah’s voice came out in a panicked squeak.
“Yes, now.” Father Caleb frowned at her. “You’ve been wandering far, my little lost lamb. It’s time I brought you back into the flock. And after seeing your, ah, new jewelry, let us just say I’m quite eager to make you a Bride of the Prophet.” His eyes flickered over her breasts again and Sarah thought she might throw up.
“No,” she said, trying to keep the pleading out of her voice. “No—don’t do this. I don’t belong here!”
“Don’t be ridiculous, my dear—the Compound has been your home since the tender age of twelve. Where else would you belong?” He made a motion to Amos and Charlie. “Take her to the women’s quarters and have her cleaned up and properly arrayed.”
“What about the nipple stuff?” Charlie asked. “Should we have her take it off?”
“No…” Father Caleb said thoughtfully. “No, I think we’ll leave it on. At least until I’m finished making her my bride.”
“You mean raping me,” Sarah said in a low voice. “That’s what you do here—you rape young girls. You can dress it up however you want to with holy names but that’s all it is—just rape.”
“Shut your mouth, you little whore!” Amos snapped, shaking her until her teeth clicked together. “You ought to be grateful The Prophet will still touch you after you went out and acted like a slut!”
“Yeah, shut it,” Charlie shouted, poking a finger in her face.
But the Prophet’s expression remained serene.
“Well now, I think Sarah is simply confused,” he remarked. “She doesn’t understand how holy the act of submitting herself to The Prophet can be.”
“All I know is I want her for a second wife when you’re done with her, Father Caleb,” Charlie said. “I’ll teach her some manners.”
“No, I want her for my third wife,” Amos protested. “Who knew she was hiding such big ripe titties? I should get her—I grabbed her first.”
“Peace, my sons.” Father Caleb raised his hands to quiet them. “What I’m thinking is, why should little Sarah here be a second or third wife to anyone? At least, not for a while. After I’m finished making her my bride, she can play the roll of concubine for a time. That way, both of you can have a turn.”
“What? No!” Sarah gasped. “No, please.”
“I’m sorry, my dear but you have no one but yourself to blame.” Father Caleb’s smile curled up cruelly. “You cannot expect to go around dressed like the whore of Babylon without inciting the lustful urges of the men around you. And for that, you must be punished. In fact…I think it will be good if every one of the Controllers has a turn. Spread the word, Amos, Charlie. It can be an early Christmas gift.”
Sarah’s mouth was too dry to talk and her legs felt like water. There were ten men among the Controllers the last time she’d counted. Was Father Caleb really going to give her to all of them?
I’d rather die, she thought, her stomach rolling. Rather die than let that happen!
“Please,” she managed to gasp out but Father Caleb only smiled.
“Next time think a little before you decide to rebel, Sarah,” he remarked. “Now take her away and get her ready for me.” He made an imperious motion with one liver-spotted hand and Amos and Charlie dragged her out of his office and back towards the Compound.
As she was dragged, stumbling between them, Sarah suddenly thought of the warm, feminine voice that had come to her when she and Sazar stood before the Lord Magnate who had wanted pretty much exactly what Father Caleb wanted.
Had it been the Kindred Goddess? Kat and her friends certainly seemed to believe in her. Sarah didn’t care who it had been—she only knew she needed help from anywhere she could get it.
Oh please, she thought, praying as she had when she was on Alquon Ultrea. Please whoever you are, help me now! I’m in so much trouble. Please help me!
But she heard no answer.
* * * * *
“She’s not at the shelter or any other shelter in the Tampa Bay area.” Sazar hung up the phone in frustration. “And no one at the HKR building has seen her since she left yesterday afternoon.”
“What do you want to do?” Sylvan spread his hands. He looked somewhat rumpled from being dragged out of bed an hour earlier than usual but he was willing to listen and help, which Sazar was grateful for.
“I don’t know.” Sazar ran a hand through his hair. “But I have to do something. I have to find her!”
“Are you certain your son didn’t just have a nightmare?” Sylvan asked gently.
“He described what she was wearing and the carry-all cube she was carrying. And…” Sazar cleared his throat. “He said…the Goddess had sent her to us.”
“Ahh…” Sylvan looked thoughtful. “The Goddess is often close to children. Their innocence allows them to hear her more clearly than we can sometimes.”
“If she’s not in a shelter, she’s probably being held by The Brotherhood of Peace.” Sazar clenched his fists in frustration. “I know where their business headquarters is but I don’t know about the Compound where they live. And I’m afraid if I go sniffing around there, they’ll know something is up and move Sarah someplace else.”
“We can get the local police force involved,” Sylvan offered. “In fact, I think it would be a good idea, especially in light of some of the things apparently going on there.”
“You call them,” Sazar said. “I’m going to go down to Tampa and see if I can pick up a Blood Trail.”
“You think you can do that?” Sylvan looked at him, obviously surprised.
“I know Pitch-Bloods have a special ability to track their mates through the blood they’ve taken from them but you and Sarah aren’t even bonded.”
“I know, Goddess damn it! Now I wish I had bonded her to me.” Sazar sighed. “But it’s all I can think to do. Maybe the Goddess will be kind and allow me to find her.”
“Let me know if you do,” Sylvan said. “I’m going to speak to the human police and see what I can get from them.”
“Agreed.” Sazar nodded and the two males went their separate ways. But though hunting around Tampa was better than nothing, he still felt deeply uneasy. He kept hearing Tsandor’s words echoing in his head.
“They’re about to do bad things to her, Patro—hurry!”
He had to find her—fast.
Please Goddess, he prayed as he piloted his ship down to Earth. Please let me find Sarah before it’s too late! Even if she hates me now, let me save her.
Chapter Twenty-six
“Oh my dear, I’m so proud of you! My daughter, finally a Bride of the Prophet! And within the hour, too! So soon.”
Sarah’s mother fluttered around, as happy as any mother of the bride on the big day. The difference was though, Sarah thought, that she was being forced into this “marriage” and nobody at the Compound seemed to care.
Sarah had been told to wash her hair and shower and now Sister Maggie and Sister Judith were dressing her in the largest “bridal gown” they could find. It was a simple white dress with lace attached to the sleeves and bodice—not really a wedding dress—just a plain, nearly shapeless garment that had been sewed by the women of the Compound.
They had four of these gowns in varying sizes, for every young woman either born or inducted into The Brotherhood was expected to become a “Bride of the Prophet” at some point in her life. So it wasn’t truly surprising that Sarah found herself in this position—the miracle was that she’d escaped this fate for as long as she had.
And now I’m going to pay for it, she thought dismally. As soon as I’m ready to go they’ll drag me into the chapel and perform a quick ceremony so Father Caleb can rape me. And then he’ll pass me off to Amos and Charlie and the rest…
The thought made her sick with fear and she tried to push it away. But pretending this wasn’t happening wasn’t going to help her. She needed to face the situation and try to think of a way out.
“My daughter—a bride!” her mother cooed excitedly, breaking into her desperate train of thought.
“Mom, do you realize what’s about to happen to me?” she demanded.
“Why yes—you’re finally going to become a Bride of the Prophet! How I have prayed for this day!” Her mother sighed in apparent bliss. “I remember the day I became a Bride of the Prophet.”
“Yes, I do too—it’s the reason Dad left you,” Sarah said flatly. “And don’t you think it’s just a little bit creepy that Father Caleb slept you with and now he wants to sleep with me too?”
“Of course not, my dear. It’s the way of The Brotherhood. All must submit to the Prophet.”
Anger and exasperation rolled over Sarah like a stinging wave.
“But I don’t want to have sex with a man old enough to be my grandfather! I’m not doing this of my own free will—they’re forcing me, mom! Father Caleb is forcing me—he’s going to rape me!”
For a moment her mother’s eyes went wide and there was a shocked silence in the common room where Sarah was being prepared for her “wedding.”
For a moment Sarah had hope. Maybe she had finally gotten through to her mother—something she’d been trying to do since the age of twelve when her mother had first dragged them into The Brotherhood of Peace and then had stubbornly refused to leave or see anything wrong with Father Caleb and the way he operated.
“He’s done this to all of you—all of us,” Sarah said, speaking to the room at large now. “Can you honestly tell me all of you wanted this? Wanted to have sex with an old man who controls your entire life and passes you off to someone else when he’s tired of you?”
There was nervous shuffling of feet and Sarah thought she saw uncertainty and longing in the eyes of some of the younger women—women who had been used by Father Caleb and passed on to the other men of The Brotherhood. Women kept helpless and pregnant and ignorant, forced to stay in the Compound their entire lives until they withered and couldn’t even imagine trying to break free anymore. If only she could get them to rise up—to revolt! There were many more women than men in The Brotherhood. Together they could—
Then her mother broke the heavy silence with a tinkling laugh.
“Oh my dear—for a moment I thought you were serious! But of course Father Caleb can’t rape you—he can’t rape anyone. He is the Prophet—what he says is law and what he decrees is always right and just.”
There were relieved murmurs of assent from all corners of the room.
“Blessed be—he shall purify,” said one of the Sisters and the others took up the chant. “Blessed be—he shall purify. Blessed be. Blessed be.”
“So it’s basically all right for him to do anything he wants because he says it’s all right. Is that it?” Sarah demanded. “Are you hearing yourself mother? Do you understand how wrong and ridiculous that is?”
But her moment was over. The sounds of forced gaiety rose around her, purposefully drowning out her voice. The Sisters went about the business of getting her ready for her “wedding.”
Sarah felt a surge of bitter despair course through her.
Why did I think I could make her listen—make any of them listen? It’s always the same. She doesn’t hear what she doesn’t want to hear and she doesn’t see what she doesn’t want to see. None of them do. They’re all blind and deaf to anything but what The Prophet says.
She was going to her doom and her mother didn’t even care. No one cared.
Maybe I should kill myself, Sarah thought bleakly. She could say she had to use the bathroom and use one of the razors to slit her wrists. Or there might be a cord long enough to hang herself in the closet. I should do it—it would be better than what Father Caleb has planned for me.
No, my daughter. Do not think such things.
Sarah started and felt a surge of hope. Could it be? Was it the same person who had helped her back on Alquon Ultrea? Maybe…the Kindred Goddess?
Yes, my daughter—it is I. Do not be cast down or dispirited that your Earthly mother will not hear your pleas. I hear you and I care.
But can you help me? Sarah thought at the voice which seemed to come from everywhere at once, though no one else in the room showed signs of hearing it.
Help is coming. Hold on a little longer, the warm, strong voice promised.
Then it was gone but Sarah lifted her chin a little higher, hope filling her heart. All was not lost. Not yet.
* * * * *
Goddess, Sazar prayed silently. Goddess, I’ve been a fool. A selfish, self-centered idiot. But now I need your help and forgiveness.
He stood in the middle of an overgrown field outside the city limits of a town called Brandon which was on the outskirts of Tampa. This was where his search had led him. One of the police officers Sylvan had spoken to had said he believed the Brotherhood’s Compound was located somewhere out here. But the overgrown wilderness was vast and Sazar knew he was running out of time. He had to find Sarah soon, some inner voice told him. If he didn’t it would be too late…
Yet try as he might, he couldn’t catch even a trace of her Blood Trail.
Once a Pitch-Blood Kindred was bonded to a female and had drunk of her blood, he was able to “feel” her presence and track down her location with deadly accuracy. But part of the Blood Trail was the bond that existed between a Pitch-Blood and his mate. Without it, he was like a blind man feeling around in a dark room for something he knew was there but couldn’t locate.
“Please, Goddess, I know I’m asking a lot, especially after the way I acted, the way I treated her,” he prayed, aloud this time. “But please…please let me f
ind her. Let me—”
Your prayers have been heard, Warrior.
The strong, feminine voice nearly made him jump out of his skin. Suddenly the entire weedy, overgrown glade looked somehow beautiful and golden. The air around him was filled with a divine presence so strong and overwhelming that Sazar dropped to his knees.
“Goddess,” he breathed.
I know you have had pain in your life, Sazar, the Goddess said, speaking both inside and outside his head at once. I grieved with you when Malinda died. But when I sent you another chance with Sarah, you threw it away.
“Forgive me, Goddess—I thought she would hate me after I took her virginity,” Sazar protested.
Was that really the source of your strife? Look within yourself, Sazar—look well and do not lie to me or to yourself.
“I…” Sazar closed his eyes. “I suppose that wasn’t all of it. I pushed her away.” His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I pushed Sarah away because I was afraid of losing her—the same way I lost Malinda. I didn’t want to take that risk. It hurt so much…too much when Malinda died.” He swallowed hard. “I couldn’t bear the thought of someday losing Sarah too.”
Death is a part of life, my son. We all lose the ones we love at some point. The Goddess’s voice was softer now. But know this—death is not the end. You will see your Malinda again someday. Now, though, I call on you to be brave—to be courageous enough to reach out your hand for the new love I offer you. A love not only for yourself but for your son, who has long hungered for a mother’s touch.
“Yes.” Sazar’s throat felt tight with unshed sorrow. “Yes, Goddess—I understand.”
Do not fear to love Sarah and do not fear to love Tsandor. Live bravely, love fearlessly—that is what I call you to do.
“I swear I will.” Sazar nodded fervently. “I swear it, Goddess.”
I am glad you hear my words. Your female is in danger. And you too will face grave danger to save her.
“I don’t care,” Sazar said fervently. “Please, I’ll brave any danger. I just need to save her!”
Good. Then rise, Warrior. Rise and find your love.
Healing the Broken: A Kindred Christmas Tale (Brides of the Kindred) Page 28
