Away From the Dark

by Aleatha Romig

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I found Thomas and eliminated him as a problem.”

  Father Gabriel leaned back as the rest of the council shifted in their chairs. “You killed him?” he asked.

  “He was a threat to The Light. I didn’t want anyone to know what I’d done. After I did it, I worried that it could somehow come back on The Light.”

  “Why did you kill him?”

  “He’d been in the community. Xavier never comes into the community. Thomas threatened to expose things he’d seen as well as our location.”

  “His body?”

  I shook my head. “I brought him back here. That was my true distraction, not Sara. I brought him back here, and left him for the wildlife.”

  Father Gabriel nodded. “I believe that in light of this new information, we’ll need to reconsider our safety measures. You’re correct that he should never have been given access to the community. How did he learn the codes?”

  “I don’t know the answer to that,” I answered honestly.

  “Each Assemblyman and Commissioner has his own code for the gates. We could go back through and assess the surveillance . . . ,” Brother Timothy offered.

  “The video’s on a loop. It erases every third day,” Brother Daniel replied, finally meeting my eyes. “Besides, there’s also the code used by followers who work at locations outside the walls.”

  “Change everyone’s codes,” Father Gabriel said as he turned to me. “Thank you, Brother Jacob. It seems as though we may have rushed to assume the worst. Pilots are in precarious positions. I’ll take this new information into consideration regarding our situation at the Eastern Light.”

  “Thank you. I was only thinking of The Light.”

  “What you did was acceptable; however, it was outside of your scope of decision making. The proper way to have handled it would have been to tell Brother Daniel the truth, and then follow the guidance of the Commission.”

  “I apologize. I was afraid that he had Sara,” I admitted.

  “Well, as we’ve stated, that’s no longer an issue. Now produce that envelope, and I’ll reconsider your current correction.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  I stood and nodded toward Brother Daniel.

  “Brother Jacob,” Father Gabriel said, “call me as soon as you have it.”

  Benjamin and Raquel’s fate hit me as I closed the meeting room door. The weight of my knowledge staggered my steps as I contemplated their consequence for helping me.

  CHAPTER 28

  Sara

  Vomiting on Brother Mark’s shoes wasn’t intentional, but that didn’t stop me from receiving additional correction. Never had Jacob whipped me like what I’d just experienced. Though Brother Mark hadn’t told me to count, I had. I couldn’t ask, but eventually I suspected he wasn’t going for a particular number. His belt continued to strike my cold skin until it opened and blood ran from his lash.

  “So dark,” he said, assessing my blood, as he roughly spun me around to face him. He said my correction was to remind me to listen to directions the first time. From the bulge in his jeans, I believed it was also about his pleasure. The sickening thought came accompanied by a shiver of fear. In my current position, I was powerless to stop any other type of pleasure he might choose to require of me.

  Before he’d started my correction, he’d made me remove my dress. I’d wanted to remind him that only husbands were supposed to be able to do this, but I knew it wouldn’t help. Crying and wearing only my panties, I covered my heaving breasts with my arms and studied his vomit-splashed shoes. While I was afraid to ask whether I could get dressed, the longer he stood there staring at me, the more afraid I was to remain exposed.

  Finally he simply turned and walked away, leaving me alone with blood dripping from my back and tears coating my face. The cool temperature of the basement added to my trembling. Biting my lower lip, I stood still, watching the door, unsure what I was expected to do. My dress lay near my feet, while my shoes were still where I’d found them. And near the back wall was the puddle of my vomit.

  Though I knew my back was bleeding, I wanted to be covered. When I reached for my dress, I noticed the naked ring finger on my left hand. My thumb reached for the missing wedding band as my trembling, as well as tears, increased. I would survive this, not only for me but also for him, for Jacob, for his mission.

  With my hair still damp, I pulled the dress over my head. The material irritated my fresh wounds, while the cold water and blood glued the fabric to my skin. I slid my feet into the soft formless slippers.

  The next time the door opened, it was Sister Mariam. She didn’t speak; instead she scrunched her nose, shook her head, and disappeared. When she returned she had a bucket of antiseptic-scented water. Placing it on the floor, she handed me a scrub brush.

  “Clean your mess,” she commanded, and walked away.

  I tried to do as she said, but too soon the water was filled with pieces of my long-ago-eaten lunch. All I was doing was spreading it around. When the door opened again, I lowered my head, knowing Sister Mariam would reprimand me. It wasn’t her. Another woman wearing a white dress, this one with a white scarf, entered. It was the color of the one I’d been told to expect. Remembering Sister Mariam’s words, I knew this was one of the women I could question, but with my back sore from my latest reminders, I didn’t want to risk it. She didn’t speak either. Silently she took the bucket I’d been using and replaced it with one containing fresh antiseptic water.

  The scent of the cleaner combined with the pain of my back had me on the verge of vomiting again, but I continued swallowing, scared of what would happen if I didn’t do as Mariam had said. Tears mixed with the water as I scrubbed the concrete floor for the second time. Each time I moved my arm, the material of the dress tugged and rubbed my back, intensifying the sting of Brother Mark’s reminders.

  I would have done a better job on the floor with better tools. The scrub brush she’d given me was as dilapidated as the old couches in the main room. The bristles were short and worn. Though I didn’t notice it at first, the tip of one of the fingers on my right hand was raw and bleeding from scraping across the floor. As I was almost finished, footsteps and voices came from the main room. I wasn’t sure how many people were out there, but I knew it was more than Sister Mariam. As I waited for the door to open, I wondered whether it would be better in here with the wet strong-smelling floor or out there with them.

  “Sister Sara,” Sister Mariam said, as she unlocked the door. “Come out. It’s time you understand the honor you’ve been given.”

  Honor?

  As I stood, my muscles and wounds cried out. My legs ached from washing the floor on my hands and knees. And the white dress I’d been told to wear was damp and dirty from being on the floor. Without bandages over my back, surely I’d bled onto the white material.

  Five women, all wearing similar shifts, stood in the main room forming a semicircle. Four of them wore blue scarves in varying shades. The one who’d brought me the fresh bucket of water was the only one wearing a white scarf. I recognized the one with the lightest shade of blue as the woman who had opened the front door.

  I never had time for a sorority in college. I was too focused on my grades. But as I stepped in front of them, I had the strange sensation of some sick college movie. What I feared was that I was about to be the unsuspecting participant in the deranged hazing scene.

  “Kneel, Sister Sara,” Mariam demanded.

  Willing to do almost anything to avoid Brother Mark’s return, I did as she said. The weight on my tender knees caused me to grimace. Apparently Sister Mariam was the designated speaker, because everyone else remained silent, watching my every move.

  “Father Gabriel has chosen you to be one of his personal followers, a bride of The Light. You used to call yourself chosen, but you weren’t. We, the brides of The Light, are the true chosen, the only ones privileged to care for his needs.”
>
  My thoughts moved from my physical discomfort to her words as I struggled to understand their meaning.

  “It’s a calling,” she went on. “Now you’ve been called to share that privilege.”

  With my stomach twisting, I lowered my chin, trying to hide my disgust—the privilege of caring for Father Gabriel’s needs? I didn’t want this honor or privilege. I didn’t even want to know that any of this existed.

  Mariam continued, “We care for the house and for him. Sara, look up.”

  When I did, my eyes widened. In her hand was a leather collar like the one Salome wore, in the hospital bed in the other room.

  My hand went to my throat. “No, please.”

  “Sister Leah, take off your scarf.”

  The woman with the white scarf untied the soft material and revealed the collar beneath. Seeing the purple bruising around the edges, I was reminded of the body I’d seen in the morgue. At the time I’d thought that whatever had left the bruise around the victim’s neck had been in place for a period of time. When I turned back to Mariam, she’d removed her scarf to show the same collar, and then they all did.

  “Sister Leah was our most recent sister given the honor to perform the duties of brides, or she was until you. She’s a fast learner.” Mariam turned toward Leah. “Take off your dress.”

  A tear slid down Leah’s cheek, but she didn’t hesitate to carry out the command. As she lifted the white material, I covered my mouth to keep from speaking. Dropping her dress to the ground, she slowly turned around. On both her back and front were various shades of lash marks, some newer than others. Bruises prevailed, but silvery-white scars as well as crusted scabs indicated the places her skin had been sliced. The markings extended beneath her panties and onto her thighs. When she made the full turn, I winced, seeing the lashes on her stomach and breasts. Thinking how badly my back hurt, I couldn’t imagine a belt striking my tender breasts.

  “Leah,” Sister Mariam continued, “had the honor of spending the most time with Father Gabriel the last time he was home.”

  “Did he do that to you?” I asked.

  Lightning-fast, Mariam stepped forward and slapped my cheek. “You don’t ask questions. You listen. Apparently you’re not as fast of a learner as Leah. Our leader is more than a man. He’s The Light, and The Light needs fulfillment to be its brightest. We, the brides, are fortunate to be chosen for that duty. Everyone within The Light has their job to do.

  “Being as close as we are with Father Gabriel, giving ourselves in all ways to The Light, we must willingly allow all darkness to be removed from us. Father Gabriel’s pleased when he sees the stripes we gladly bear to exorcise the darkness from our bodies. After all, he wouldn’t be able to enter us if we harbored darkness.”

  My stomach rolled.

  “This”—she held up the collar—“also pleases Father Gabriel. As we wear it, it’s a constant reminder that our lives are in his hands, and we have no choice but to trust him in all ways. He knows what’s best for us.”

  My body trembled at the realization of what she was saying. These women served as Father Gabriel’s brides, his wives, his harem. I had no doubt that when he tired of one, she ended up on the table in the morgue. The collar served as a reminder that these women belonged to Father Gabriel. If they didn’t do as they were told and willingly accept their calling, if they didn’t meet his needs, they would meet the ultimate punishment, banishment into the dark.

  “There have always been seven brides, since the beginning of The Light. The collar you’re about to wear was worn by brides who failed to fulfill The Light. We all wear the collars of brides who’ve failed. It’s another reminder to do our best to please Father Gabriel, to do our best to keep The Light bright.”

  Do these women actually believe this is an honor?

  “Sister Sara, do you accept this honor?” Mariam asked.

  “I want to go back to my husband.”

  My cheek stung as she slapped me again. “You’re really not very smart. I don’t know why Father Gabriel would want you to be part of us.” Grabbing hold of my hair, she lifted my face upward. “Let’s try this again. Do. You. Accept. This. Honor?”

  Though I kept my lips together, my scalp screamed as she moved my head up and down.

  “That looked like a yes to me.” She turned to the others and asked, “Do you think it looked like a yes?”

  The other women agreed.

  “Lift your hair or it’ll be taking space you may want for breathing or eating.”

  With trembling hands I gathered my still-damp hair and lifted it while Mariam secured the leather collar that had been worn by other women, women who were now dead. I worked to be sure I could swallow as the heavy collar applied pressure to my throat.

  “It must be tight enough,” she explained, “so that Father Gabriel can see the darkness leaching from your skin. Until our skin no longer bruises, there’s darkness within us that must be removed.

  “Beginning tomorrow, you will be given responsibilities within the household. Can you cook?”

  “No, she can’t.”

  All six of us gasped at the deep voice, as our eyes immediately dropped to the floor. That wasn’t all. Suddenly the other five brides fell to their knees. I didn’t need to see the man with the deep voice to know who’d spoken. In one sentence I recognized Dylan.

  My eyes darted to Leah, who was still wearing only her panties. She’d never been told to dress. Even with her face down, I saw her cheeks glisten as new tears descended and her body trembled. However, instead of covering herself, she had her hands at her sides, like everyone else.

  “Stand,” he commanded.

  We all simultaneously did as Dylan said.

  “Sister, put your dress back on.”

  Through veiled lids I peered in Dylan’s direction. Unlike Brother Mark, who’d scanned me up and down when I was in front of him in only my panties, Dylan had his back to us. I quickly moved my eyes back to the floor as he turned back toward us.

  “Sister Sara, come with me.”

  I swallowed and, while keeping my eyes down, I walked toward him. With each step my heart beat faster than it had before. My palms moistened, and I fought the sense that the world would tilt.

  Silently he motioned for me to go up the stairs first. Nodding, I stepped past him. As I did, he touched the small of my back.

  Wincing, I flinched. Though I bit my lip before I said anything, undoubtedly he was able to see the blood that had seeped through my dress.

  “Fuck,” he murmured, removing his hand.

  CHAPTER 29

  Sara

  Step by step, as I ascended the stairs in front of Dylan, I contemplated what I’d say, what I’d do. Standing before him with Jacob at my side had been difficult enough. Doing this alone would be nearly impossible. I tried to think rationally; however, the more absurd the situation became, the more determined the Stella part of me was to come forward.

  The echo of Dylan’s hard-soled shoes alerted me that he was only a few steps behind me. I had no idea what the back of the dress looked like, but he was getting a good view. For some reason that made part of me happy. I was here because of him and he’d had the audacity to be upset with Jacob over a blackened eye that Jacob hadn’t even caused. Besides, the way the women downstairs reacted to him, they knew him. They feared him—I’d sensed it and wondered whether I should too.

  I rationalized that it wasn’t so much that I should fear Dylan, but any man in this depraved house. This place was worse than the Northern Light, by far. My stomach twisted at the thought of the duties of the brides. Sister Leah was so young, as was Sister Salome. Not only would I call Father Gabriel crazy, but also he was practically a pedophile.

  Each new bit of information about Father Gabriel made me more disgusted.

  With each step I clung to the promise of the FBI. Surely enough time had passed. All that needed to happen was for Jacob to get a phone or for me to get free. Though I wondered what was going on at
the Northern Light, I tried not to worry about Jacob. I reminded myself that he was an agent and had been doing this for a long time. I had to believe he’d survive—that we both would.

  Passing through the door at the top of the stairs gave me the sensation of coming out of a black-and-white photo. Once again the world had color. The marble floor below my soft shoes glistened with golden flecks, while the walls glowed with a rich beige hue and shiny white ornate trim. Even the door was different, gray on the side of the basement, but pristine and white on the side in the house. I stepped to the side and waited, eyes down, for Dylan to emerge from behind me.

  Except for the echo of Dylan’s footsteps, the mansion was silent as we made our way down the long hallway. Every few feet we passed white pillars supporting arches, and between the arches crystal light fixtures sparkled, sending prisms of color reflecting rainbows that danced upon the floor. When he stopped, I recognized the French doors with the beveled glass and bit my lip, praying that Father Gabriel wasn’t in here.

  Opening one of the doors, Dylan gestured for me to enter.

  Through the window the sky had darkened since the last time I’d been in the office. I wasn’t sure of the time, and while I was certain I’d missed a meal, Brother Mark’s whipping and Mariam’s speech had taken away my appetite. The pool in the distance caught my eye. In the middle of the darkness, its illuminated beauty reminded me of a tropical resort. Underwater lights changed its color, while around it the landscaping sparkled with tiny white lights. The mini-paradise appeared to be surrounded by nothingness. The tennis courts, outbuildings, and landing strip that I knew were there were all cloaked in darkness.

  When my eyes settled on Father Gabriel’s desk, my heart fluttered. In an ordinary plastic container—the type to store leftover food—was Fred, swimming in circles, unsure of his new bowl. Lowering my chin, I sucked my lip between my teeth and worked to contain my smile. A simple blue betta fish should mean nothing to Sara.

  Oh my God! This is hard!

  I hated Dylan and, at the same time, remembered thinking I could love him. Even with all that had happened, he’d kept Fred. Refusing to look up, I stayed rooted to the soft red carpet as Dylan walked to the front edge of the desk. Crossing his arms, he casually leaned back and studied me. It was his detective look, the one where he assessed, analyzed, and silently stared. Finally his broad shoulders sagged as he sighed and ran his hands through his dark-blond hair.