Deep Redemption

  He sighed, but I could hear the barely contained rage in his voice. Brother Stephen clasped his hands together. “We, the people in our commune, were all defectors of the faith, Cain.” He pointed to the guards and Sister Ruth. “We were all cast out for doubting the beliefs and practices, sinning against the faith, or speaking out against the prophet. We were all punished, then sent to Puerto Rico to suffer in isolation.” He laughed a sardonic laugh. “Prophet David believed a commune in the stifling heat, a land so different from our own, would re-inspire our belief in his ways. He did not bargain on a small collective set of people finding solace in one another’s doubts.”

  Leaning forward, making sure he had my attention, he said, “As a community, we grew strong. Not all of us—many remained devout, some guards stuck to their posts. But there were enough of us to know that when the time came, we would return and try, somehow, to free those born and raised in this sham of a faith . . . those so immersed in our life here that they do not even know there is a world outside, a world where they can thrive and be free.” Brother Stephen sat back in his chair. “We managed to use some locals in Puerto Rico to discover the truth about Prophet David, and compiled our evidence. Our plan to return stemmed from there.”

  “Everything was false,” one of the guards answered tightly. “All of it, everything that was done to us and our families was so that an old man could stick his dick in children and get away with it. The old bastard ran arms out of Israel for cash and plowed it into making kid porn for his own sick viewing, into allowing abuse to become the norm.” He paused, his eyes squeezing shut as if he was reliving something that had happened to him. I wanted to ask what, but then he opened his eyes and added, “Then he started distributing that porn to outside parties. The children . . . doing things to him . . . to other guards . . . ” He trailed off, his face reddening with anger.

  I joined him in that instant rage. White-hot pain sliced through my heart. My uncle . . . he sold child porn to fund his commune. I knew without even asking the question that Judah would be too.

  My own twin doing something so fucking sick . . .

  My head was racing from all that I was being told. I could barely keep up. My blood was passing through my veins so fast that the sound whooshed in my ears, making me light-headed. I leaned forward and cradled my head in my hands.

  They were all silent as I closed my eyes and tried to regain some composure. When I looked up, their eyes were boring into mine. “It was all bullshit . . . All of it . . . ” I whispered, and felt the stab of betrayal and outright fucking humiliation settle inside.

  A gentle hand landed on my bare shoulder. It was Sister Ruth. Her eyes were shining with sympathy and her bottom lip was quivering. “You were kept away from the world? Your whole life?” she asked, her voice riddled with hurt.

  I nodded my head. “Both me and Judah. Growing up, we only had a scholar with us. He was a harsh taskmaster. I only met Prophet David once, when I was fourteen. Other than that, there was no one.”

  A tear fell from her eye. “So there was no one to be a mother or father to you? No one to give you love and affection? No one to just . . . love you?” A cavernous hole burrowed in my chest. I had never thought of it like that before. But there hadn’t been . . . no one had ever come to us when we cried, when we were hurt. It was only ever Judah and I who kept each other company, who helped the other when he was sick.

  “No,” I replied, a lump catching in my throat.

  I thought back to the times I’d been sick growing up, the times when Judah had. The lump grew thicker when I pictured myself caring for Judah, wiping his head with a cold rag when he had a burning fever, patching up his cuts when he had fallen. It was curious, because when I thought about the times that I had needed help, when I had run a fever or caught the flu, I couldn’t remember Judah ever being there with me. He was always deep in study.

  The truth hit me hard, like a crowbar to the ribs. Judah had never cared for me when I’d been sick. Not like I had done for him.

  He never helped me. I didn’t realize I had spoken that aloud until Sister Ruth’s hand took hold of mine. She squeezed it tightly. I swallowed down the pain.

  “Why had I imagined that differently?” I said to no one in particular. “Why, in my head, did I believe that Judah had helped me when he hadn’t? Not even once?”

  “Because he was all you had,” Sister Ruth said sadly. “The reality that you raised yourself, without love or care, was harder to take, so your head created an illusion. One that let you believe your brother loved you . . . cared for you as much as you did him.”

  I listened to the woman’s words. She sounded like she spoke from a place of understanding . . . of knowledge. She was right. I wouldn’t have coped without Judah. At least, that’s what I had always told myself. But as I thought of all that he had done, all the ways he had let me down, time after time, I realized that . . . that . . .

  “I have really been alone all along,” I finished out loud. The weight of it hit me, and I had to fight for breath.

  “Not anymore,” Sister Ruth said and placed her hand on my cheek. I looked into her eyes and felt warmth in them that I had never experienced before. Like she somehow knew me. I almost felt like I knew her.

  “You have us now. Our support,” Brother Stephen said, pulling me from Sister Ruth’s kind, searching eyes. The two guards nodded their heads. “I am Solomon,” the bigger of the two said. “This is my brother, Samson.”

  “You are disciple guards here in New Zion now?” Solomon nodded. “How have you managed to infiltrate Judah’s inner circle?”

  “We showed how strict and good at our job we were when we arrived. We told him that we had repented for our wrongdoings, but were waiting for the true prophet to come and save us from our exile. We said that we wanted to prove our worth to him.” Samson nodded in agreement. “The prophet needs more skilled men for the attack he has planned. He saw our size, our youth, and he took us on without thought. We have given him nothing but loyalty . . . or so he thinks. We play our parts well.”

  “The attack,” I muttered.

  Solomon sat forward. “On a group on the outside world. He refers to them as the devil’s men.”

  “I know them,” I said. Four sets of eyes widened in shock. “Prophet David put me into their group, undercover, for several years. He was testing my strength. We stole their gun contracts from under their noses through the information I gathered. I lived as they did, fought as they did and loved as they did . . . until I betrayed them for The Order.”

  “My God,” Sister Ruth said, her eyes dropping to my Hangmen tattoos. “That is why you have these haunting images on your skin?”

  “Yes.” I sat back, feeling drained. “Judah wants these men to suffer because they took women from Prophet David, ones that were needed to fulfill the prophecy. He wants them to pay.”

  Brother Stephen looked at Sister Ruth. Complete shock covered his face. “The Cursed Sisters of Eve?” he asked, voice low and urgent.

  “Yes. They reside with the Hangmen now.” I pictured them all in my head, realizing how fucking fortunate they were that they had found a home there. “They are married to some of them, or about to be. They are happy . . . happy away from this fucking place.”

  “They survived,” Solomon said quietly to Brother Stephen, his expression stunned. Solomon turned to me. “We were told they had all died in the devil’s men’s attack on Prophet David’s commune. We were told there were no survivors from the Cursed Sisters.”

  “No,” I said. “They are alive. I . . . until recently we had been trying to get them back. It is why Judah wants this attack. He doesn’t like to fail. It . . . it was me who let them go.”

  Silence descended on the group. Suddenly, a soft knock sounded on the door. I stood, ready to race back to protect Harmony in my cell. Solomon rushed to the door. I was just about to reach the mouth of the long hallway, when I heard a familiar voice.

  I turned to see Sister Phebe. H
er eyes met mine as she entered. “You are awake,” she said in relief, casting me a small smile.

  “Phebe, what are you . . . ?” I stopped, not wanting to put her in danger. I guessed she wouldn’t know the truth about these people. But I was wrong.

  She turned to Brother Stephen. “They have set a date.”

  “When?” Brother Stephen asked.

  “In five days’ time. At six o’clock. He announced it to Brother Luke, the Prophet’s Hand, tonight at dinner. They will be preparing for the ceremony to surprise the people.”

  “And the attack?” Samson asked eagerly.

  “I heard them say four days later.” Phebe lowered her eyes. “After the prophet has had time alone with his bride to purify her soul.” My sudden feeling of disgust matched the expression on Phebe’s face when I realized what they were discussing. Her blue eyes met mine, and I watched sympathy fill their depths.

  “What?” I asked, knowing she was holding something back.

  “Before the attack, on that fourth day . . . Judah, he . . . ” Phebe took a deep breath.

  I walked forward, and placing my hands on her shoulders, asked, “What? Tell me.”

  She flinched as I touched her. I saw the fresh brush on her cheek and the new cut on her lip. But, as much as I wanted to help her, I needed the information she had, right now. I needed her to tell me what the hell my twin was planning. It was the only way I could help stop all this shit.

  “He is going to kill you, Prophet Cain. Judah . . . he is planning to sacrifice you publicly just before the attack, four days after the wedding to Harmony. He has branded you a traitor of the faith and an unsalvageable corrupted soul. The people believe you have been possessed by evil, corrupted by the Curseds. Your death will signify the beginning of God’s holy war against the devil’s men.” Phebe held my gaze. “Your day of reckoning has been sealed.”

  “No,” Sister Ruth said softly. I crossed the room and sat back down. I wasn’t surprised in the slightest. I knew Judah wouldn’t leave me alive, not after I had tried to kill him. I had seen it in his eyes. Because he knew I could kill him. He knew I’d be too much of a threat to all that he had built if I wasn’t silenced permanently.

  “I have to go,” Phebe said and turned to leave. As she gripped the handle of the door, she stopped. Turning around, she said, “I will not be able to get back to see you all before the ceremony this week. Other sisters will be sent to clean you.” Her voice cracked, but she steeled herself and faced Sister Ruth. “Meister . . . he is becoming suspicious. He is keeping me close. If something happens to me, if the plan fails . . . please honor our agreement. Please . . . just save . . . ”

  Sister Ruth walked across the room to Phebe and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I will, I promise,” Sister Ruth said. Phebe nodded her head, and, giving me one last smile, she left.

  “Phebe has been helping you?” I said.

  Brother Stephen came to sit beside me. “We realized that she is being hurt by a close confidant of the prophet. He refers to himself as Meister. He’s almost as delusional as the prophet is. Phebe has something she needs help with. She has supplied us with information and we have agreed to give her the help that she needs.”

  “Five days,” Samson said before I could ask Brother Stephen what Phebe needed help with. They were talking about the wedding.

  “You plan to get her out?” I asked, pointing toward my cell.

  Samson hesitated, then he sighed in defeat. “When we knew the prophet was recalling us to New Zion, we tried to get Harmony to leave. We had people that could get her out in Puerto Rico, but she would not go.”

  “She had no one she knew outside of us. She would have nowhere to go, nobody she loved . . . ” Brother Stephen said.

  “So we told her all about Prophet David. She knows he lied about his revelations from God. That he was obsessed with gaining power. She knows he liked raping young girls,” Solomon spat, venom in his tone. “When we told her we would return to New Zion to try and bring it down, she would not let us leave her behind.”

  “I tried to make her leave,” Brother Stephen said. “I did not want her to return here, or be scouted by the prophet’s guards. But she would not go. For a deeply personal reason, she wanted to help. When the guard came and announced her as a Cursed, she decided that was how it was to be done. Harmony told us she wanted to marry the prophet so we could get closer to the evidence of the commune’s crimes. She willingly sacrificed her freedom to help us in our mission.” My chest ached, yet filled with such fucking pride at her bravery.

  “But she did not expect the prophet to be so cruel,” Sister Ruth whispered sadly. “She has never said anything, but I can see how this coming marriage is affecting her.” Ruth cleared her throat. “She feels like the fate of this commune rests on her shoulders. And like the brave soul that she is, she suffers in silence.”

  “She will willingly marry that monster to help those she loves. She is willing to submit to his cruelty and risk her life so she can save those who are trapped,” Brother Stephen added. He met my eyes. “We did not know the prophet was so cruel.” His face contorted. “I would never have brought her here to do this had I known beforehand . . . we have brought her to hell.”

  A thick silence stretched over us, then Solomon said, “We cannot let him marry her. She has already been through so much. We cannot see her publicly raped by him. The prophet will kill her eventually. Either he will or his consort will—we have heard nothing but frightening truths about Sister Sarai too. The things she has been doing to some of the younger girls the prophet awakens. Sick things. Sexual things.” He took a deep breath. “Harmony would never agree to this, but I cannot live with myself if I stand by and watch her destroyed for our cause. We have to think of another way to bring this place down. And we have to get her out before she is tied to the prophet and taken from our hands.”

  “How?” I asked, in complete agreement with everything they said.

  “We are planning to somehow get us all out, then we will go to whoever we need to and give them the evidence we have. It is not as much as we would like, but we only need the outside authorities to come and investigate. There will be enough evidence on the property to arrest all in charge for child sexual abuse and child pornography,” Brother Stephen said. “I used to live on the outside world before I came here in my twenties. It was a long time ago, but I remember how some things work.”

  I shook my head. “No. It won’t work.” All eyes were suddenly on me. I inhaled deeply. “We are in alliance with the KKK. I helped make the deal directly. We have—Judah has—connections in government and in the police. The commune is protected. Heavily protected by powerful allies. You would be killed before anyone who could help got wind of this place. Too many people have too much to lose. I’d bet all the fucking money I have that those people are profiting from all the porn videos you’ve been telling me about. They won’t let that get out.”

  “Shit!” Solomon said and rubbed his hand across his face. “Then we need a new plan, and quickly. The thought of that bastard taking her the way I have seen him with other women . . . ”

  My mind raced with possibilities. But all the routes led me to just one place. One outcome. It would be death for me, but it could help the other people chained to this life . . . it could save Harmony. I lifted my head. “I have an idea. It’s risky, it might not work . . . but it could be our only choice.”

  The group listened with wide, hopeful eyes as I told them of my plan. With each word, I grew more and more confident that it could work, and if I knew my brother as well as I believed I did, he would fall right into my trap. Judah’s pride would always be his biggest downfall.

  “Hell,” Brother Stephen said when I had finished speaking. He locked eyes with Samson and Solomon in turn, and finally Sister Ruth. She had been silent as I had spoken, her head bowed.

  “It is our only option,” Samson said reluctantly.

  Brother Stephen held out his hand. I slid my hand int
o his as he said, “Then it is agreed.”

  “But don’t tell Harmony,” I said. “I don’t want her to know, in case it doesn’t come off.”

  Stephen released my hand. “I was about to ask you the very same thing. If she thought we had lost faith in her, if she thought we were removing her from this task, she would refuse. She has a strong sense of duty. She is fearless, like no one else.”

  Despite all that could go wrong, and despite everything I had just discovered, I smiled. Because that was Harmony. Fearless and strong.

  I sat back in my seat and took three deep breaths. As I did, I felt the tiredness I should have embraced hours ago weaken my limbs. I pushed myself to my feet. “I am going to sleep.” Sadness washed over me when I thought of Harmony in my cell. Every second I was with her, I wanted more and more time with her. I had only known her a short time, but in that time, I had been more my true self than I had ever been in my life. When I was living with the Hangmen, I had once read that the important thing wasn’t the number of minutes you spent with someone, but the quality of realness those minutes held. Every moment I had spent with Harmony saw a dead part of me being reborn. As I held her hand through the gap, as I stared into her dark eyes, she was placing herself into my soul.

  It pained me that our time was finite. My heart ached at the thought of not having her by my side. So I decided that I would cherish what time I had left. I began to move my feet, my heavy limbs leading me toward where Harmony slept. Brother Stephen moved to block my path. I jerked my head up to see what he wanted. “Cain,” he said, his voice barely audible. He gripped my upper arm. His face was ashen, and I could see that something was troubling him. “Before you leave, there is something else you should know.”

  I tipped my head, indicating for him to speak.

  And I listened.

  I listened to what he had to say, not missing once single piece of information . . . and all the while I stood there, unmoving . . .