BRINK: Book 1 - The Passing (7 page)

There is no one waiting outside the Room of Blessing, so the guard ushers us in. Inside, the room is small, dim, and mostly empty. In the center sits a small, marble altar set with three white pillar candles. Behind the candles stands the priest, wearing a traditional hooded robe that blocks his face from our view. I look at Aaron, uncertain what to do next. He shrugs at me.

“You may approach,” says the priest without raising his head. His voice is soft and muted. We comply, feeling the thick carpet give beneath every step as we walk to the altar. “Your names, please.”

“Aaron Evans.”

“Brynn Bowen.”

“Aaron and Brynn. You have chosen to begin a new life together, depending on each other as our Master God has ordained, and carrying on the noble purpose of the human race. May he bless your days and give you strength, purpose, and harmony with each other and with the world. Please take these rings.” The priest holds out a velvet-lined silver platter. On it are two gold bands – mine tiny and etched with filigree, Aaron's thicker and plain. We take our rings and hold them, waiting.

“When you place the rings on your fingers, you make your union binding and unbreakable by all but death itself. Please do so now, if that is your wish.”

I start to slide my ring onto my left hand, wondering if it will fit.

“Wait,” says Aaron, interrupting me.

My head snaps up, alarm coursing through my body. Is he having second thoughts? Thinking he made the wrong choice? What do I do if he backs out now? Return to the room with my tail between my legs and tell the judge I need to choose again? Or just surrender to my inevitable demise?

“What is it?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

Aaron looks a bit sheepish. “I just wanted...well...I read that, in the old days, they did it like this.”

Asking permission with his eyes, he gently takes my ring from me and slides it snugly onto my finger.

“I barely know you,” he says earnestly, “and, realistically, there's a decent chance that the coming weeks will reveal things about you that I can't stand. Like maybe you're an OCD clean-freak, or have a thing for wearing cat costumes on non-costume holidays. But something tells me this is right – you and me – and I want you to know that no matter what happens, for the rest of my life, I'll do everything I can to win your heart.”

Johanna probably would have faux-gagged at Aaron's words; I, on the other hand, find myself melting like a butter statue in a sauna. I try to think of something equally as romantic to say in return and come up with nothing.

“Will you let me ditto that?” I ask apologetically. “My emotions-to-words converter is experiencing some technical difficulties.” I'm pleased when he grins as me.

“This time,” he agrees, and I take his ring from him, wiggling it onto his finger.

“I don't, by the way,” I say softly, still looking at his hand in mine.

“Don't what?”

“Wear cat costumes on non-costume holidays.”

“Well that's a relief.”

I giggle and bite my lip. “I am pretty clean though.”

He gives me a long look. “We'll work on that,” he says, and then leans forward to softly kiss me on the cheek.

I don't have time to process the sparkling cascade of feelings set off by his kiss, because the priest interrupts us.

“I'm apologize for rushing you, but the next couple is waiting to come inside. Please exit through the door on your right. Good luck to you.”

As we leave the Room of Blessing and enter yet another huge, dim hallway, I find myself frowning. Aaron notices.

“What's wrong?”

“The priest. He told us 'good luck,'” I answer, puzzling. “The priests at assembly never say that. They think believing in luck means disbelieving in God's plan. Something's not right...”

"Aaron," I interrupt, clutching his arm. "The walls are moving."

Suddenly, the dark shadows of the hallway reintroduce themselves to my brain as men dressed head to toe in close-fitting black clothing. They swarm, slipping from their places against the walls to form a moving blockade in front of us. I spin on my heel to run, but there are men advancing from behind as well. Before I can think to scream, they surround us, grabbing my arms behind my back and forcing a strange-smelling black bag over my head. I am unconscious in moments.

I'm still wearing the bag when I wake up. I have no idea where I am or what is about to happen to me. Is this what the judge meant? Is this the end? I try to move my hands, but they are bound behind me with a soft rope.

“Aaron?” I call out, tentatively at first. When I hear no response, I yell louder. “Aaron? Aaron! Can you hear me?”

“Hey, hey hey,” says a voice next to my ear, “Calm down, Brynn. You're fine. And Aaron is safe - you've got nothing to worry about.” The voice is soft. Feminine. Familiar. “Give me a moment to get this thing off you.”

A bright stab of light sears my eyes when the fabric slips over my head, and I squint, waiting for my pupils to adjust. When I cautiously look up, I gasp in shock. I'm staring at a tall, slender woman dressed all in black. A woman with blond hair pulled back in a tight, meticulous braid and gray-green eyes that look like mine. A woman I've seen before, once, in a computer generated simulation that I experienced only a few short hours ago.

“Sorry about all the extra precautions,” she says with a smile, "but you were a unique case - there was really no other way to get you here."

I frown, struggling process anything in my confusion. "Where is here?" I ask.

"You're in a safe place - an underground sanctuary for people seeking the truth. I'm in command, here."

"And...who are you?"

"I think you know, Brynn," she says, her voice softening. "I'm your sister. I'm Samantha. Welcome to The Tunnel.”

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Is is the government, God, or something else? How has Samantha been able to survive in hiding for so long? Will Brynn, Aaron, Harlow, and Johanna be able to make their new relationships work?Look for the answers in the upcoming sequel to this book,
Book 2 - The Tunnel
, as well as other exciting titles from Arienna Rivers Black, coming soon!

Also, check out the author's brand-spanking-new website at www.ariennariversblack.com