“This”—she held up the collar—“also pleases Father Gabriel. As we wear it, it’s a constant reminder that our lives are in his hands, and we have no choice but to trust him in all ways. He knows what’s best for us.”
My body trembled at the realization of what she was saying. These women served as Father Gabriel’s brides, his wives, his harem. I had no doubt that when he tired of one, she ended up on the table in the morgue. The collar served as a reminder that these women belonged to Father Gabriel. If they didn’t do as they were told and willingly accept their calling, if they didn’t meet his needs, they would meet the ultimate punishment, banishment into the dark.
“There have always been seven brides, since the beginning of The Light. The collar you’re about to wear was worn by brides who failed to fulfill The Light. We all wear the collars of brides who’ve failed. It’s another reminder to do our best to please Father Gabriel, to do our best to keep The Light bright.”
Do these women actually believe this is an honor?
“Sister Sara, do you accept this honor?” Mariam asked.
“I want to go back to my husband.”
My cheek stung as she slapped me again. “You’re really not very smart. I don’t know why Father Gabriel would want you to be part of us.” Grabbing hold of my hair, she lifted my face upward. “Let’s try this again. Do. You. Accept. This. Honor?”
Though I kept my lips together, my scalp screamed as she moved my head up and down.
“That looked like a yes to me.” She turned to the others and asked, “Do you think it looked like a yes?”
The other women agreed.
“Lift your hair or it’ll be taking space you may want for breathing or eating.”
With trembling hands I gathered my still-damp hair and lifted it while Mariam secured the leather collar that had been worn by other women, women who were now dead. I worked to be sure I could swallow as the heavy collar applied pressure to my throat.
“It must be tight enough,” she explained, “so that Father Gabriel can see the darkness leaching from your skin. Until our skin no longer bruises, there’s darkness within us that must be removed.
“Beginning tomorrow, you will be given responsibilities within the household. Can you cook?”
“No, she can’t.”
All six of us gasped at the deep voice, as our eyes immediately dropped to the floor. That wasn’t all. Suddenly the other five brides fell to their knees. I didn’t need to see the man with the deep voice to know who’d spoken. In one sentence I recognized Dylan.
My eyes darted to Leah, who was still wearing only her panties. She’d never been told to dress. Even with her face down, I saw her cheeks glisten as new tears descended and her body trembled. However, instead of covering herself, she had her hands at her sides, like everyone else.
“Stand,” he commanded.
We all simultaneously did as Dylan said.
“Sister, put your dress back on.”
Through veiled lids I peered in Dylan’s direction. Unlike Brother Mark, who’d scanned me up and down when I was in front of him in only my panties, Dylan had his back to us. I quickly moved my eyes back to the floor as he turned back toward us.
“Sister Sara, come with me.”
I swallowed and, while keeping my eyes down, I walked toward him. With each step my heart beat faster than it had before. My palms moistened, and I fought the sense that the world would tilt.
Silently he motioned for me to go up the stairs first. Nodding, I stepped past him. As I did, he touched the small of my back.
Wincing, I flinched. Though I bit my lip before I said anything, undoubtedly he was able to see the blood that had seeped through my dress.
“Fuck,” he murmured, removing his hand.
CHAPTER 29
Sara
Step by step, as I ascended the stairs in front of Dylan, I contemplated what I’d say, what I’d do. Standing before him with Jacob at my side had been difficult enough. Doing this alone would be nearly impossible. I tried to think rationally; however, the more absurd the situation became, the more determined the Stella part of me was to come forward.
The echo of Dylan’s hard-soled shoes alerted me that he was only a few steps behind me. I had no idea what the back of the dress looked like, but he was getting a good view. For some reason that made part of me happy. I was here because of him and he’d had the audacity to be upset with Jacob over a blackened eye that Jacob hadn’t even caused. Besides, the way the women downstairs reacted to him, they knew him. They feared him—I’d sensed it and wondered whether I should too.
I rationalized that it wasn’t so much that I should fear Dylan, but any man in this depraved house. This place was worse than the Northern Light, by far. My stomach twisted at the thought of the duties of the brides. Sister Leah was so young, as was Sister Salome. Not only would I call Father Gabriel crazy, but also he was practically a pedophile.