White Heat (27 page)

 

Sarah had never dreamed there was a secret room beneath the Enlightenment Hall, let alone a damp hole in the ground that looked and felt more like a medieval dungeon. She'd participated in some rituals inside the hall's main assembly room and knew there were other rituals for those who'd taken the Covenant—a few lasted all night long. But she'd assumed they occurred inside the hall, too. Now that she'd seen the altar, the ring of stones, the candles, the torches and the thick mats lying all around, she knew that probably wasn't the case. Whatever Ethan's most devoted followers did down here was accompanied by the burning of incense. The scent was so strong she could barely breathe. Having smelled the same scent on Ethan's clothing a number of times, she connected it with him.

“What goes on during the Covenant of Brotherly Love Celebration?” she asked Martha.

Martha didn't answer. Maybe she couldn't. She was lying in a heap in the next cell, hardly moving. Once they'd passed through the gates into Paradise, she'd begun to squeal for all she was worth. She couldn't actually scream because of her gag, but she was making enough noise that Sarah had used the diversion to jump out of the Jeep. She'd hoped to get help, to alert someone to what Bartholomew was doing. But she hadn't succeeded. As soon as she'd landed on the ground, Bart had been on her. And he'd used chloroform to make quick work of her defiance. She couldn't
remember anything from that moment until she woke up here, in a cage down a wide hall off the main cavern, where the altar was located. She could see that there was at least one other cell, an empty one, on the far side of Martha's. Perhaps there were more; it was difficult to tell. There was only one torch burning, and it was near the altar.

“Martha?”

She heard movement, a groan, but nothing she could make any sense of. Chances were Martha couldn't think straight. If Bart had used chloroform on Sarah when she jumped out, he might have used it on Martha again, too.

The possibility of an overdose, of Martha dying down here, made Sarah anxious. Although they were only eight feet apart, they were separated by metal bars. Sarah couldn't even get close enough to check.

Hugging her knees to her body, she shivered against the chill. The temperature was much lower than on the surface, but it wasn't cold. She was having some sort of reaction to the chloroform, the fear coursing through her, or both.

Glumly, she stared out at the altar, the top of which resembled a giant phallus. Sarah wished it was the flickering light that made it look that way, but she knew it wasn't. The Covenanters embraced sex as the greatest life-giving source there was. Sarah had no problem with that. But the altar had a white marble base that was covered in velvet cushions—with manacles in each corner. Did they restrain women? Maybe even rape them?

She hoped not. She'd planned to take the Covenant of Brotherly Love next month. It was a goal she'd been working toward since she'd joined the church. She
would've done it long ago except she'd wanted to be sure she approached it with the proper gravity and respect. Ethan had made very clear that there was no going back.

She thought of all the time she'd spent reading the Bible and praying that the Lord would purify her soul so she'd be worthy. What she was seeing now turned all of that on its head. It seemed so sacrilegious, an absolute mockery of all she held dear.

“Help me,” Martha mumbled. “Please…help me.”

Sarah scrambled over to the bars. “Don't worry,” she said. “You're going to be okay. You're not alone. I'm here.”

“Who are you?”

“Sarah.”

“Sarah, the one who…who saved me from the stoning?”

“Yes.” But she was also the one who'd betrayed her at the grocery store. Did Martha not remember?

“I don't feel so good. I'm…sick.”

“It's the chloroform. Try to relax and let your body recover.”

“What happened?” she asked, but seemed to get her bearings before Sarah could explain. “Oh, God…we're in the pit! I can smell it.”

“What does that mean? What goes on down here?”

Martha dragged herself closer, until she could lean against the bars between them. “Rituals, supposedly.”

“What kind of rituals?”

“A celebration of the procreative power.” She rubbed her face, drew in a deep breath. “At least, that's what I used to believe when I participated. Now I realize that
it's nothing more than an orgy for the benefit of Ethan and his Guides.”

“An
orgy?
” Sarah echoed. Already disillusioned, she almost couldn't grasp such a base concept in conjunction with the church she'd once loved. “So the rumors, what outsiders are saying about us, it's all true?”

“Ethan describes it in a more…positive light, but—” she laughed bitterly “—it's all to satisfy his own lusts.”

Orgies were bad enough. But…what about the manacles? Sarah swallowed hard. “Everyone who participates…they—they're willing to be involved, right?”

“They were when I was down here. It was only the covenanted few.”

Sarah cast another glance at that ominous altar. “So why would anyone need to be restrained?”

Martha rubbed her temples. “It's just…part of the show. It's more powerful if the woman seems completely dominated.”

“And these
cages?
”

Martha lifted her hands to the bars. “I was told they're symbolic, too. Ethan frees those who are kept here as he will free the souls who accept the truth of his church.”

“That's what the Covenant of Brotherly Love involves?”

“No, but you're required to have taken the Covenant to participate. Only a select few are chosen.”

Sarah had been weeks away from making the initial commitment. Did that mean she would eventually have been invited down here? “So Ethan locks up men and women and then—”

“Just women,” Martha interrupted. “Once a month,
he puts a virgin in here who is then offered to him on the altar as restitution for Eve's sin. That kicks off the so-called celebration. And then the rest of the Guides take a turn with her, too.”

Bile rose in the back of Sarah's throat. “But where would he get a virgin? Any virgin in
this
compound is just a girl. She hasn't taken the Covenant.”

“Well, everyone except her has. He takes whoever's the oldest.”

Sarah tried to calculate how many unmarried women lived in Paradise. “But there aren't more than a handful over eighteen. Does that mean he takes
young
girls?”

Martha sagged against the bars. “Don't worry. The girls don't even know what's happening. They're drugged before they're brought down here and are no worse for wear afterward.”

That made it okay? Sarah was shocked by how the religion she'd embraced had been twisted into something sordid and wrong and frightening.

“I can't agree with that,” Sarah said. “It's not right. The girls don't have a say in what's happening to them. Even their parents aren't included in the decision.” But the parents she knew probably wouldn't disagree. Not believing as they did. She'd been like that, too, hadn't she? To a point, anyway.

Martha laughed again. “You don't get it, do you? Ethan is the Holy One. What does it matter what some girl's parents have to say? Any decision he makes overrides all other considerations, or he'll simply claim that whoever's opposing him has lost the faith.”

But Ethan's word alone wasn't enough for Sarah. Not anymore. The potential for abuse was too great. No
man should have so much power, not when power corrupted human hearts the way it did. “And you don't have a problem with rituals like this?”

Martha's laughter suddenly switched to tears. “Not until he turned on me.”

Sarah had never felt so much contempt for another woman. And yet, could she really judge Martha? If more time had passed, and she hadn't learned what she'd learned, would she have followed along as Martha had and gotten swept away by it all?

“What will he do to us?” she asked dully. She was thinking about her father and his admonishments to stay away from the Covenanters. In her efforts to find God, to rise above the violence and decay of normal society, she'd turned a blind eye to danger signs she should've heeded. But Ethan pressured them to sacrifice reason and common sense to faith and obedience; he made them feel they weren't worthy to be chosen if they relied on their own thinking. Every time she was inclined to trust her judgment she suffered guilt. Choosing between the two had been a constant tug-of-war, which was partly why she'd put off taking the Covenant of Brotherly Love.

“He's going to kill us,” Martha said. “Why else would he risk bringing me back here? If the police find out, it'll put an end to the church.”

“Then why hasn't he done it? Bart could've killed us both.”

“They plan to have a little fun first.”

Fun… Sarah studied the phallic symbol above the altar, wondering if that would be the last sight she ever saw. Then she remembered Courtney. Had her friend been brought down here?

Hoping to find the girl in the cage that appeared to be unoccupied, she strained to see past Martha, but could make out nothing. “Do you think he murdered Courtney Sinclair?”

“The girl who disappeared after I left?” Martha asked.

“Yes.”

“If she's not down here, there's no question.”

S
he'd found Todd. At her request, the woman sitting across from her pointed him out to Rachel while they were eating in the dining hall.

“I feel so bad for him,” Rachel murmured as a way to explain her interest. “He must be heartbroken over losing his wife.”

“Don't worry,” the woman, who'd identified herself as Cori, responded wryly. “Around here, one woman is as good as the next.”

When Rachel allowed her confusion to show, Cori lowered her voice. “As long as we cook and clean and spread our legs, what does a man have to complain about?”

“You're unhappy here?”

She sighed. “I don't know. Sometimes I am. Other times I realize the outside world isn't any better. Anyway, Todd's okay. He's already seeing Penny Platting.” She nodded toward the buxom woman with thick black hair sitting beside him.

“Doesn't he have to wait until he's divorced before he starts seeing another woman?” she asked.

“Martha's been shunned. That means she no longer exists. He can't be married to someone who doesn't exist, right?”

“I guess not.” Rachel feared Martha's lack of existence had become more real than everyone thought. In the few hours they'd left her to “nap,” she hadn't been able to discover anything new about Martha. She'd wandered around the compound, hoping to get a sense of any impending action, but so far she hadn't heard or seen anything to indicate that Martha was back.

Maybe she
wasn't
back. Maybe she'd been killed en route, and Bart and Ethan, noticeably absent all afternoon, were out burying her. Anything was possible….

Wishing she could talk to Nate, she stole another glance at Todd. Did Martha's husband know she'd been seized? He certainly didn't act as if he'd just learned that his wife was in Paradise—or dead, for that matter.

Catching sight of her, he smiled. She quickly dropped her gaze, but he got up to make his way over.

“Hello.”

She tried to smile despite her swollen lip. “Hi.”

“I hear you've come to stay.”

“Word travels fast in Paradise.”

With strawberry-blond hair, golden lashes and skin so pale she could tell he'd once had a face full of freckles, he wasn't the most attractive man in the world. “That's true,” he said. “You can't take a dump around here without someone knowing about it.”

He didn't seem to realize how vulgar that statement was, especially at the dinner table. “Goes with living in a small community, I suppose.”

“I suppose. Anyway, I think you're going to like it here.”

She straightened her silverware. “I hope so.”

“It's got to be better than living with that bastard who busted your lip, right?” he said with a lame chuckle.

Rachel took exception to his superior tone. He'd joined in when
his
wife was being stoned. But she nodded. “True.”

He thrust hands that were still freckled in the pockets of his jeans, which were far too tight to be stylish. “I saw your husband when you came here yesterday.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. Looks strong.”

She pretended to test her jaw. “He is.”

“But he must be stupid.”

“Excuse me?”

“He'd
have
to be stupid to lose a woman as beautiful as you.”

Uncomfortable with his frank admiration, she cleared her throat. “Your wife's the one who left the commune, claiming you tried to kill her, isn't she?”

He rocked back, instantly defensive. “Yes, but I didn't. That's a lie.”

“People will say anything to justify their own behavior,” she said with her own lame chuckle.

“Exactly. She
knows
she was in the wrong.”

“She does?”

“Deep down.”

“What'd she do?”

“She broke her covenants. And there's nothing worse than that.”

Rachel feigned confusion. “Which covenant is that?”

“She disobeyed a prophet of God.”

Didn't Todd participate when she disregarded Ethan's mandate that they not sleep together? “Do you have to do
everything
Ethan says?”

“Of course. You can't pick and choose. What kind of follower would that make you?”

“But…Ethan's only human. Maybe he made a mistake. You two are married, after all.”

“He didn't make a mistake. Prophets don't make mistakes. God would never allow it.”

From her recollection, the Bible warned of false prophets, but no one here seemed to question whether Ethan might be false. “I see. So…if he told you to jump off a cliff, you'd do it?”

“Sure. There could be no greater test of my conviction.”

“My father has faith like yours,” she said.

He took it as a compliment. “You can develop it, too. I'll help you learn, if you like.”

Fortunately, the woman he'd been sitting with sauntered over and slipped her hand in the crook of his arm. “Come back,” she whined. “Before you miss dessert.”

“I'm just saying hello to our newest member.”

Penny's eyes weren't nearly as friendly as Todd's. “Hi. Sorry to hear what your husband did to you. He's
so
handsome. I never would've expected it from a man like that.”

“He's not that handsome,” Todd muttered, but Rachel ignored him. Evidently, Penny had seen Nate last night, too. “Sometimes it's the people we trust the most who surprise us.”

“True.” Penny dragged Todd away. “Talk to you later,” she called back.

“I heard there was a child involved,” Rachel said to Cori after they were gone. “Where is he?”

“With a family who takes good care of him.”

“Todd hasn't tried to get him back?”

“He can see him whenever he wants, but he knows it's better for James to be raised by both a mother and a father.”

Which James had before everyone turned on Martha. “Maybe James will have a new mother soon,” she said, once again eyeing Todd and Penny.

“Looks that way,” Cori grumbled. “But I think Todd's going to realize Martha wasn't such a bad wife.”

“Penny can't measure up to her?”

“I've always found her a bit vain and silly. But Ethan's given them his blessing to see each other. So who am I to say they shouldn't?”

Rachel had the impression that Ethan wasn't paying as much attention to business as he used to. “I met someone else at the party that I don't see here tonight.”

“Who's that?”

“Sarah.” Did anyone else know she'd gone to Willcox to find Martha? If Ethan and Bart knew, or even suspected, that she'd been the one who'd helped Martha escape…

Cori half stood to see over the heads of everyone at the tables. “That's odd,” she said. “I don't see her, either.”

“She usually comes to dinner? I mean, she's not working in the kitchen or anything?” Rachel asked.

“No, she works at the cheese factory, like I do, and she's usually here.” With a frown, Cori settled back in her seat. “Maybe she's not feeling well.”

Or maybe she was dead.

 

Ethan was on top of the world. C.J. hadn't been able to crack the password on Nate Mott's computer, not yet, but that seemed less and less important. They had too
many other things going for them. Courtney could never threaten him again. Martha was back. Sarah, the only person who could link Martha's abduction to him, would never see the light of day. And the woman he'd named as the Vessel was in the compound of her own free will and planning to join them. All those terrible feelings of foreboding he'd had over the past several weeks had been wrong. Life couldn't be better. It was as if every problem had disappeared in one day. Not only that, the clandestine nature of his relationship with Bart was more titillating than anything he'd experienced thus far. They couldn't keep their hands off each other. After Bart had returned with Martha and Sarah, they'd had the raunchiest sex imaginable—in his office, of all places. Ethan could still smell Bart's cologne on his jalabiya.

He was in love for the first time. And the person he loved felt just as strongly about him. It was so different to have that bond, to respect the person he was sleeping with and to care what that person felt or thought afterward. In some ways it seemed to Ethan that he hadn't truly lived until he and Bart had come together.

Seeing Bartholomew from across the crowded assembly hall, he curved his lips into a faint smile to tell his lover that he was thinking about the passion they'd shared. Then he focused on the crowd waiting to hear him speak. It was showtime. Rachel sat in a place of honor in the front row. She looked a bit uncomfortable, but he wasn't worried that she'd back out. The welcome ritual was powerful and moving and would make her feel instantly connected. He'd seen it work time and again.

“Tonight we have a new member in our midst,” he
said into the microphone, and the crowd fell silent. “Sister Rachel.” He nodded in her direction but didn't bother with her last name. He didn't want to mention anything to do with her husband. She belonged to him now, to the Covenanters. She was his gift to his followers. “She's been sent to us to nurture and strengthen us by adding her talents to our talents, the work of her hands to the work of ours. And we, in turn, are to guide her as a loving parent, to protect her as a loving husband and to accept her as a loving friend.”

“Amen!” came the response.

“From this time forward, she will belong to us and with us. She will share all her worldly goods, her heart and her knowledge, and we will do the same. We will have all things in common. Let there be no poor among us.”

“No poor!” the crowd shouted.

“And now, we will welcome her through the gate of acceptance.” His eyes sought Bart again; he found him standing in the far corner. “Brother Bartholomew, will you escort Sister Rachel to the front, where she will receive the robes of righteousness?”

Bartholomew straightened in obvious surprise. He generally remained in the background while the other Guides helped with the initiation. But Ethan wanted Bart to do the honors tonight. This action symbolized and confirmed their private bond in a public setting. He was asking Bart to give him Rachel, to give him the Vessel he'd promised their people.

And, as usual, Bartholomew didn't disappoint him. He bowed with respect before making his way to the front, where he offered Rachel his hand and escorted her up on stage.

“And now, my lovely Rachel, you will disrobe.”

Her eyes shifted from him to the crowd. “I will…what?”

“Disrobe. In this ritual you lose all shame in your nakedness. You are created in God's image, as the rest of us are. You must pass through the same gates, stripped as bare as the day you arrived on this earth.” He waved, and the two women he'd designated before the opening prayer appeared with the white robe he'd had them make.

Rachel saw it and seemed to relax a little.

“This is symbolic,” he explained for her ears only. “You take off your worldly clothes and you don the robes of righteousness. But we baptize you first. Then rub you with oil. After that, you'll be ready to become bride to the church.”

He knew the others recognized, from the expense and style of the robe and from the subtle changes in the ceremony, that this ritual was different than any they'd witnessed in the past. This was special, modified for the Vessel. Rachel was the only one who didn't understand the magnitude of what was happening.

But she'd find out soon enough.

 

Rachel could count the number of people who'd seen her naked on three fingers. Her mother, when she'd walked in while Rachel was showering at ten years of age. That guy she'd slept with to punish her father—she couldn't remember his last name and preferred to forget even his first. And Nate. But as she stood in front of the Covenanters, gazing out at their expectant faces, she knew this was one of those compromises she'd have to make for the sake of some
greater good, although it required a sacrifice of her comfort, her ideals and her dignity.

With shaking hands, she pulled off the tank top she was wearing and unbuttoned her cutoffs before sliding them over her hips. With so many people in the same room, it'd been too warm a moment before. Now it seemed downright cold. Goose bumps jumped out on her skin as she stood before them in her bra and underwear. She hoped that would suffice, but she suspected it wouldn't. That fear was confirmed when Ethan leaned forward to whisper, “Take it all off.”

Rachel attempted to calm her nerves by telling herself that this was something everyone in the room had been through in order to join. She even tried to distract herself by continuing to search the audience for Sarah. But she couldn't find her, and the level of interest in what was taking place didn't seem commensurate with a common ritual. That bothered her. Of course, she'd never participated in or even seen a ritual involving nudity, so maybe she was wrong and they were all like this.

Steeling her nerves against the self-consciousness and embarrassment that came with stripping in front of an audience, she unhooked her bra and let it fall. Then she stepped out of her panties.

“Beautiful,” Ethan murmured, but the compliment made her feel even less comfortable. Especially when the women with the robe didn't come forward as she expected. Wondering what was taking them so long, she turned to see, but Ethan drew her in the opposite direction—to a table that held two tall but unlit candles in silver candlesticks and a decorative basin of water.

When Ethan motioned to someone at the side of the
room, all the lights went out, except for a spotlight directly over her head. Then Bartholomew lit the candles, chanting as he did so. The crowd picked up the chant, and the sound crescendoed as Ethan dipped his hand into the water.