Damnable Grace

by Tillie Cole

  Shivers broke along my skin as flashes of Meister tying me down to a chair, hurting me, came slamming into my head. I placed my hands on the sides of the shower and tried to get up, but I could not move. My traitorous muscles had collapsed and left me too weak to move from this spot.

  I tipped my head to the spray, trying to wash away the feel of Meister on my skin, to cleanse his memory from my mind. And just as I began to cry harder in frustration, the door to the bathroom opened and the male who had cared for me entered. He darted toward me and bent down, wrapping me in his strong hold. He smelled strongly of smoke. It had not been that strong in the bedroom.

  “I fell,” I managed to say when I eventually found my voice. “I . . . I could not get back up.”

  “It’s okay, Red,” he reassured me and took me from the shower.

  “No!” I protested, managing to add some strength to my voice. “Please.” I stretched out my hand to the shower, yearning to be clean. To feel anything but what I did at present; I felt plagued with dirt, inside and out.

  In his arms, my body trembled with cold. “You want me to clean you?” he asked.

  I turned my head into his chest to shield me from embarrassment. “Please . . .”

  The man took a deep breath, then turned and walked back to the still-running shower. I thought he would stand behind me and guide me as I tried to bathe. I did not expect him to step inside with me, still wearing his pants. He kept me cradled in his arms. He braced my feet on the floor and held me with one arm. With his free hand, he took some shampoo and rubbed it into my scalp. I closed my eyes as he washed away the grime and the dirt. I sighed as his hand ran over my skin, taking away the sweat and stench that I found so abhorrent. Then he guided me as I simply stood under the hot spray. He stayed behind me, a pillar of strength. He never spoke as the last of the suds from the shampoo were rinsed from my body. Not once did he utter a single word, until the water began to cool and he asked softly, “Are you finished?”

  He switched off the shower and wrapped me in a towel. He sat me back on the closed toilet seat while he dried my hair with a second towel. I sighed as his hands massaged my scalp. And I opened my eyes. I opened my eyes and found myself face to face with this man. He was not looking at me, so focused was he on his task. A wave of something unknown crashed through me when I realized that, in all my life, no man had ever cared for me this way, let alone a complete stranger.

  An angel. The endearment fluttered through my mind.

  His dark hair was wet. His pants were sodden, creating a flood at his feet. Mesmerized by this strange, kind soul, this man, I found myself with my hand on his wrist. He froze the second my fingers touched him, but he gently met my gaze. “What . . .” I gulped. “What is your name?”

  The man’s dark eyes narrowed just a fraction. He withdrew his hands from my hair. “AK.”

  “AK,” I said softly, feeling the strangeness of his name on my lips. Not knowing what else to do, I brought his wrist to my mouth and pressed a single grateful kiss to his pulse. I felt it speed up beneath my lips and heard his sudden intake of breath. “We have met before, have we not?”

  He glanced away. “Once.”

  “The tree,” I said. He nodded in confirmation. A sudden rush of emotion swept into my heart. “You helped save my Rebekah.” I winced as I fought back tears. Then I remembered his eyes, his hair and his smell so close to mine. “You spared my life when you could have destroyed me.”

  Sighing, he reluctantly looked at me. “You hadn’t done shit wrong.”

  His words were not a balm, rather a heavy metal spike piercing my conscience. “That is debatable,” I replied.

  He studied me, his dark eyes assessing. I swallowed hard under his close attention. I opened my mouth to speak. But the words did not come. I could not verbalize my shame, my utter guilt at being the sister who ensured that Rebekah, from a young age, became the devil-girl all in the commune believed her to be.

  In truth, I was the devil’s girl. I allowed men to hurt a child; even worse, I encouraged Rebekah to believe she was evil herself.

  What she must have thought of me . . .

  “She’s here.”

  The blood that ran smoothly through my body became a rushing torrent. I stared at AK. He met my eyes and nodded gently. “R-Rebekah?” I managed to stutter, certain I had misheard.

  “Lilah.” AK stepped back. “Your sister. She’s here. She lives here.”

  AK held out his hand for me to take. He wanted me to get to my feet. But it was impossible. A million emotions ran through my mind as his words sank in. She was here? Here in this place?

  “The devil’s men,” I said, my voice cracking.

  AK’s eyebrows pulled down. “We’re the Hades Hangmen. And your sister belongs to one of us now.”

  “The man with the long blond hair.”

  “Ky.”

  Ky. I ran the name through my mind, savoring the familiarity of the syllable in my memory. Rebekah loved him. She had told me so before she was punished.

  Image after image of Rebekah filled my mind. Her beautiful smile, her long blond hair, and the devastation on her face as they publicly tried her in New Zion. Her face, as she looked to me with such pained resignation in her eyes. Resolve that this was always how her life would end. And that she was the devil-woman they had made her out to be.

  A Cursed Woman of Eve. A truth I had believed for so long. The title that had tortured her life.

  “Is . . . is she happy?” I asked. AK nodded, a small smile on his lips, and I could not have stopped the tears if I tried.

  “She is,” he said gruffly, and my head fell forward. My wet hair veiled my face as I covered my mouth with my hands. I let the relief pour from my body. She was happy. I had not known. But she was happy. I could not have wished for anything more.

  AK left the room. He returned and stood in the doorway, holding some clothing in his hands. I could not read the expression on his face as he watched me. He was difficult to understand, I thought. Wearing a neutral mask that hid his true feelings.

  He had erected walls around himself for protection. I knew this because I recognized it in myself. I wondered why.

  “Get dressed. And then you need to eat.”

  The thought of food caused my stomach to roll with nausea. I shook my head, about to protest when AK said, “You haven’t eaten for nearly a week while you were coming off the smack. It ain’t gonna be easy, Red, but you gotta eat something.” He pointed to me. “Right now you’re a bag of bones.” He stepped away and left me alone. I took the clothes he had laid on the counter. I slipped the long sleeveless top over my head and pulled the soft pants over my legs. The pants were too big, but I was able to tie them around my small waist with the drawstring on the waistline.

  Using the wall for balance, I stood and made my way to the counter. There was a new toothbrush on the top, and a comb. I brushed my teeth, and when my mouth was clean and refreshed, I forced myself to stare at the reflection I had been avoiding.

  I gasped as I stared at the girl in the mirror. Her skin was dull and gray. Her bones jutted out at odd angles, and her hair hung limply at her sides. Then my eyes fell to the marks on her inner arms. Dozens of marks that marred her pale, freckled skin. I ran my fingertips over the marks. I could almost feel the needle piercing the skin and the heavenly potion slipping like pure sunlight into my veins. My body swayed and my eyes closed as I remembered how it took me away from my pain and my burdens.

  I stumbled, and my eyes snapped open. Just at the thought of the potion, my cheeks had flushed. Dread settled in my stomach. I craved the potion more than I wanted food, or water, or anything else for that matter. But then I thought of Rebekah, here in this place, safe and happy, and I made myself reach for the comb. Concentrating on her face, her smile, and the hope that Grace made it to her alive, I ran the comb through my hair until the long red strands were straight and smooth.

  Red, I thought as I stared back at my reflection. AK had called
me “Red”.

  The color of my hair.

  I startled at the brief flicker of a smile on my lips. I was not sure why, but I enjoyed that name for me. Not Phebe. Not “whore” . . . but the sheer simplicity of the name Red.

  I opened the door, and, slowly, painfully, I made my legs take me in the direction AK had gone. The smell of food almost made me return to the bathroom to purge. But I fought it, determined to keep moving.

  When I reached the kitchen, AK was at a stove, cooking food. I did not realize I had paused in the doorway, captivated by him, until he glanced over his shoulder and froze. He had changed into another pair of pants, and his hair was brushed back from his face.

  He was incredibly handsome. I did not understand the flush that came to my cheeks as that thought crossed my mind. Men did not affect me. They never had. Yet here I was, blushing as though I did not know the touch of a man.

  “You wanna sit?” He flicked his chin toward a table at the side of the room. I sat down, and AK placed a mug in front of me. I knew the smell immediately.

  “Coffee,” he said and walked back to the stove.

  “I have never tried it.” I lowered my nose to the liquid, but I had to turn my head away at the smell.

  “Try it,” he said encouragingly, placing a plate of food before me. Bacon and eggs. He shrugged and sat down opposite me. “I ain’t a good cook, but even I can't fuck this up.”

  I tentatively cut into the food. I brought a small amount to my mouth and made myself chew. It tasted like sawdust on my tongue. It felt like razorblades to swallow. But I ate it. I knew that I must.

  AK stared out of the window of his cabin while I ate as much as I could—it was not much. When I could eat no more, I placed down the cutlery and asked, “Why?”

  AK slowly turned back to face me. I swallowed a small amount of the coffee, wincing as the hot liquid burned my throat. But I liked it.

  “Why what?” he echoed. My eyes fell to his naked torso and the mass of tattoos marring his skin.

  “Me?” I said, finally fixing my attention back on his eyes. “Why . . . why did you help me?” Instinctively, my hand ran over the marks on my inner arm. “Why did you take me from . . . him?” I dropped my gaze and stared into the dark abyss of my coffee cup. “Why did you care? You do not know me.”

  “Just did,” he replied finally.

  I could see by his stiff posture that he would say nothing more on the matter. And that was okay. He did not have to explain anything. He rescued me, for whatever reason, from Meister. In the end, that was all I needed to know.

  “Thank you,” I whispered, keeping my eyes from meeting his. “Thank you for saving me.”

  I heard his breathing quicken, and I felt his need to say something to me from across the table. But before he could reply, there was a knock at the door.

  My head snapped up. I wondered who it could be. AK got up and opened the door. When the visitor stepped inside, my heart filled with light. He saw me sitting at the table and stopped dead.

  “Phebe,” he breathed.

  My hand shot to my mouth in disbelief. I saw a woman enter behind him. She was beautiful, with long black hair and blue eyes. But before I could wonder about her any further, Cain crossed the room and took me in his arms. Tears spilled from my eyes as I fell into his familiar embrace. He wore a black shirt and denim pants . . . and his long hair was gone. I cried into his shoulder, racking sobs, until he stood back. His eyes swept over me, and he smiled.

  I recognized that kind smile.

  Then the woman was pushing past him. “Phebe,” she breathed and embraced me with the same vigor. I frowned in confusion, wondering how she knew me. Then she pulled back, and I studied her face. Her hair was the wrong color, as were her eyes, but she was, this was . . .

  “Harmony?” I whispered in disbelief, then held her as close as I could. Harmony stepped back and smiled at me. Her hand ghosted down my face. “It is Bella, Phebe. My true name is Bella.” She pointed at her hair and eyes. “I was in disguise in New Zion. This is the real me.”

  “Bella?” I shook my head in confusion. I did not understand.

  “It is okay,” Harm—no, Bella—said. “We will explain in time.”

  I looked at Cain, but I immediately saw Judah staring back at me. I swallowed, and Cain shifted on his feet. “He killed them all,” Cain said, reading my mind. His expression filled with agony. “I . . . I killed him, Phebe. I . . . I had to stop him.”

  Shock rendered me motionless, speechless. Bella took Cain’s hand in hers and lifted to her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. They were together, I realized. A foreign pang of envy traveled through me. So much so that my heart actually ached. Cain closed his eyes under Bella’s caress, then took a deep breath and turned to me. I searched his eyes for the answer to the question I did not dare to ask. “She is safe,” he said. I held my breath, finding it impossible to believe. “We got her out.” He smiled. “She is with your sister. Here. Safe and happy.”

  “Grace.” I closed my eyes as relief swept through me. He had gotten her out. Grace was safe. She was with Rebekah. “I need to see them.”

  “When he’s checked you,” AK’s strong voice said from the back of the kitchen. His posture was tense, and his eyes were tracking every move Cain made. I didn’t understand what was wrong. “Check her,” he said to Cain. “She’s through the worst of the shit now.”

  His tone was cold, almost cruel. I furrowed my brow in confusion. Cain came toward me holding a large bag, his cheeks red with embarrassment. “I was trained as a healer, Phebe. I’m here to check you’re okay. Meister had you on a lot of drugs—I’m not entirely sure of them all. AK helped you rid your system of them.”

  I nodded, still confused as to why AK had replaced kindness for anger in Cain’s presence. But I did not say anything on the matter. Instead I watched AK as Cain examined me. I watched as AK’s attention never left mine.

  And it made me feel . . . warm.

  I was not sure why; I knew him not at all.

  But I knew that this feeling, this warmth he gave me, was real.

  Chapter Eight

  AK

  “And I was like, bitch! You realize how lucky you are to be fucking down there?” I laughed at Vike as he sat back in his seat. “Fucking took off nearly all of my pubes with her fucking teeth! Could have slapped the slut.”

  “Maybe you need to fucking trim your bush so your pubes wouldn’t get caught in her teeth, you ever think about that?”

  “Fuck off.” Vike shook his head. “I’m rocking the fucking eighties bush and I’m proud of it.”

  “The only fucking one who is,” I said. “You know if you shave, your cock looks bigger, yeah? Pubes hide the true girth.”

  Vike’s arm stopped, drink almost at his mouth, and he looked at me. “That true?”

  “It’s science, brother.” I waggled my brows.

  “Then shit! Goodbye, bush, is all I gotta say.” I laughed, fucking laughed at my brother as he downed his beer. I could tell by the serious look of concentration on his face that he was planning to weed-whack his fucking bush the minute he got into his cabin.

  “How about you, Flame?” I looked at Flame over the fire pit. But he was already watching me. Fucking black eyes boring into me. “What?” I asked, my cocky smile still on my face. I saw his jaw clench, then he was up out of his seat. Without looking back, he stormed out of my backyard and toward his cabin.

  “What the fuck is up with him?” Vike asked. I shook my head and stared in the direction he’d gone. “No fucking idea.” I drank the rest of my beer and cracked open another.

  Vike reached into the pocket of his cut and pulled out something in a Ziploc bag. I squinted, trying to see what it was. Vike opened the bag, and I saw a slice of pineapple inside. He started chomping on the fruit. I couldn’t help it. I laughed so fucking hard my stomach ached.

  “What?” he asked, shoving the last of the yellow fruit into his mouth.

  “Is this abou
t what Cowboy said in the truck?”

  Vike swallowed then wiped his mouth with his forearm. “This makes my cum smell all tropical and shit, I’ll be ordering crates of the stuff.” He smiled. “In fact, I’ve been feeling the need to test it out. You wanna head to the clubhouse?”

  I shook my head. “Gotta stay. Phebe leaves tomorrow. She’s going to Li and Ky’s. First time she’s seen her sister since Judah tried to crucify her in the cult.”

  Vike got to his feet. “Good. Then we can all move on from this shit and get back to normal. Fucking hated this week. Flame ain’t left Maddie, and you ain’t left the ginger. I’m bored as fuck with y’all gone.” Vike threw his empty bottle into the trashcan. “At least the bitch will be gone from your hair. Don’t like how she’s been making you act. All moody and shit. At least you’re back to normal now.”

  I winked, smiling, as Vike left my yard. I waited until I heard the sound of his bike then dropped my fucking smile. I slouched in my seat and ran my hand over my face. My stomach tightened when I thought of Phebe on that fucking bed. Thrashing as I pinned her down, eyes fucking livid one minute, then lost the next, as the smack left her veins.

  I wondered if that’s how he’d been too. Wondered if he looked like that, fucking broken yet wild as he tore up the bedroom, demanding more drugs. Wondered if he’d needed cleaning afterward because he was too weak. Too fucking gone in the head to do anything, think about anything but his next fix.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to purge the thoughts from my head. The sound of the cabin door opening cut through the quiet of the night. Phebe stepped out onto the deck, dressed, but wrapped in a blanket.