The man ran a finger down my cheek and smirked. “You are at the prophet’s commune. You are under the close inspection of the Lord’s messenger now, Satan’s whore. The devil shall not triumph in you. I will make sure of it.”
All I could do was gulp in trepidation.
“Come.”
He pulled me up from the small, hard bed and dragged me across the room, out into a huge settlement, a large village surrounded by long thick trees and acres of green pasture. People were milling about, focused on their chores, but they all stopped to stare at me as I passed. The women were dressed modestly like me and the men wore their familiar white tunics.
As I passed, some of the people recited scripture, asking the Lord to save my soul. Others spat on the ground at my bare feet, wishing me to burn in hell.
“Heathen! Whore! Temptress!” many shouted.
I cowered my head and hot tears burned my eyes.
The man I was following ignored them all, continuing to lead me across a vast field in the direction of a small cluster of houses. Pulling me harder, I tripped over a stone, whimpering as my foot throbbed in pain. There was no mercy from the man.
“I said come!” the man snapped, and I cried, letting tears fall for my father, my mothers, my sisters, my Phebe and… my evil soul.
But I confess I did not feel evil. Did not feel Satan living within me. But he had to be. The way I was being treated by everyone.
The Lord… the Lord has smite me. Forsaken me as his daughter.
Entering a narrow hallway, the man nodded at three men lounging around a table. They too were dressed in black with big heavy boots. They were all bigger and scarier than the men outside, seeming different somehow. When they saw me, their eyes lit up with interest. They immediately frightened me, so I kept my head down, showing my obedience.
I needed to prove to them that it had all been a mistake. That I was a good girl and embraced God’s love. I was not a daughter of Satan. I had to pass their tests like Phebe had said…
Like Jesus in the desert.
When we came to a large wooden door, the man thrust it open and dragged me inside. Three dark-haired girls immediately stood up from small cots and dropped to the ground, hands out in front of them and their foreheads to the cold stone. “Greetings, Brother Noah,” they said in unison.
The man’s name was Brother Noah.
“Stand! Immediately!” Brother Noah barked loudly, making me flinch and cower.
All three girls scrambled to their feet, and I was instantly taken aback by their beauty. They all had long dark hair, huge eyes, and the fullest of pink lips. One looked older than me, one was about my age, and one was younger. The youngest one had the biggest green eyes I had ever seen.
“Jezebel, Salome, Magdalene, this is Delilah,” Brother Noah announced.
I looked behind me.
Who was Delilah?
The three brunettes curtsied and greeted me as one. “Welcome, Sister Delilah.”
All eyes were then on me.
“Excuse me, Brother Noah, you are mistaken. My name is—”
Pushed forward with a hard thrust, I stumbled into the room, where the eldest of the girls caught me before I fell, the action cutting off my words. Her hand instantly wrapped around mine. I stared at the clasped hand and instantly felt comfort in her presence, the first bit of security I had felt in days.
Brother Noah moved to walk out the door, leaving me alone with the dark-haired girls, but not before he looked my way and stated, “Now that is where you are wrong. You are no longer worthy to bear your previous name. For your namesake was a pure woman, a deserved wife of Isaac, a woman in the Lord’s favor.”
I swallowed loudly, and the girl beside me squeezed my hand tighter.
As I stared at Brother Noah, he smiled icily and his brown eyes flared as he pronounced, “From this day forth, you are to be called Delilah. You are Satanic, born of evil and a fallen sister… You, Delilah, are Cursed.”
*****
Ky