Turning on his heel, he raised his free hand and sliced the back of it across my face. My legs buckled, yet I did not fall—Meister kept me upright by my hair. I struggled to find a fragile footing as he dragged me back into the sunlight
We came to an abrupt stop outside the building Meister had run to earlier, when he had ordered me to stay at the shack. The “Dentist” sign idly wandered into my mind as I stared at the ground.
A set of booted feet came into my peripheral vision. “Meister,” a low voice said, a question in his tone.
“I’m using this. No one comes in unless I say so. Anyone dares and I’ll fucking kill them.”
“Sir,” the male replied, stepping aside.
I dared to raise my head, but I immediately regretted it. A lifeless male body lay in the dirt beside the wooden building. But unlike the male Meister had strangled, this one wore a blade in the top of his skull, his blood pooling around him.
I tripped as I was forced up the step to the building. And then we were inside and all I saw was blood. Blood on the floor. Blood smeared on the walls . . . and blood covering the pale, lifeless body of a young girl, no more than seventeen, strapped to a large leather chair. Her wrists were bound, her ankles were pinned down with cuffs, and blood pooled between her legs. A clear bag like those beside Sapphira and my New Zion sisters hung at her side.
I could not hold back the tears for the girl who stared up at the ceiling with unseeing eyes. Her hair was long and brown, the thick strands matted and dull.
And then I studied her face. Her beautiful face . . .
Rachel.
My chest caved in when I recognized the beauty before me. A Sacred Sister. Only sixteen years old. Sweet, kind Rachel with the pinkest rosy cheeks. But her cheeks wore no rose tint anymore.
“Get her the fuck out and burn her,” Meister ordered.
The male lifted Rachel from the chair. Her naked, ashen body was skeletal in the male’s large arms. He tossed her lifeless corpse over his shoulder, as if she had never been a person, a spirit and a soul. But instead disposable and nothing. Not even worthy of respect after death.
Wordlessly, the male carried Rachel toward the door. As he passed, I found my hand drifting upwards and my fingers wrapping around her own.
They were cold.
They were so cold. Nothing more than skin and bones. Just like Sapphira . . .
Worse, they were stained with crimson, the spilled blood of her ordeal. Whatever that was. The blood dripped from her body, leaving a trail in her wake, a dark red path leading from the place of her earthly hell.
I closed my eyes. I wanted to run to Sapphira and free her. I wanted us to run away and start somewhere new. Go to some heavenly place where there was no pain, no blood. Where there was kindness, not cruelty.
But I knew of no such place.
The door closed; Meister and I were alone. I heard every breath we each took—his calm and smooth, mine fast and scared. I scanned the room, allowing my reddened eyes to drink in the scene. Strange tools hung on the walls; apparatus that I could not understand sat upon tables.
And then there was the chair.
I felt his eyes watching me, burning a hole into me where I stood. He moved beside me, a needle in his hand. Like it did every time, my skin reacted to the call of its master—the nameless potion that soothed my fiery blood.
An involuntary moan slipped from my lips as my body swayed in the direction of the needle. But Meister pulled it back from my reach and gripped my cheeks with one hand. “You disobeyed me,” he said darkly, his blue eyes filled with ire.
He approached, and for every step he took toward me, I took a step back. He was the hunter and I was the prey as he backed me farther into the room, his large body looming over mine.
My legs hit something, and I lost my balance, tumbling downward. Something hard broke my fall, and I slipped on something wet. Before I could react, I was sitting on a chair, reclining back. I tried to move, but Meister pinned my wrists and strapped them tightly to the chair. My hands throbbed as the blood fought to push through from my bound wrists.
My ankles were next. I glanced down, and I realized where I was. And what was wet beneath me. I chased vomit from my mouth as I watched my white dress become sodden with red blood.
Rachel’s still-fresh blood.
“No! Please!” I begged. Meister finished tying my ankles, ensuring I could not move. I struggled against my restraints, but it was hopeless. I was trapped.
“Meister.” I felt a teardrop leave the corner of my left eye and crash to the soiled leather beneath my body. He moved beside me, stroking my hair from my face. My eyes closed under his touch, but not in comfort.
It was in trepidation.
I did not know what was to come, but I knew it would stop me from getting to Sapphira. She needed me, and I would not be able to help her. I would not be able to help any of them.
Meister bent down and smiled at me softly.
“This place, as you so called it, is for the cause, the race war that is about to come.” My eyebrows pulled down in confusion. I had no idea what a race war even was. “I have spared you the truth, because I was trying to protect you.” He smiled, as though he were feeling something sweetly in his heart. “Because I love you, I have kept you from what happens in this town.” Meister’s face fell, and anger marred his features. “But you just had to disobey me, didn’t you, Liebchen? Because you’re a whore, and that’s what whores do. You cannot be trusted. And now, I must teach you to behave.” He leaned over and kissed my forehead. “I must eradicate what you have seen today from your weak mind. Take all of these new memories away.” He smiled. “I have a new serum I’ve been testing. Real potent shit. Makes all of these memories fade to nothing, never to be recalled again.” He stroked my face so gently. “I’m gonna give it to you, and it’ll work. Soon you’ll remember nothing of this night. It will be as if it never happened. A clean slate.”
“No!” I shouted. I did not want to forget. I needed to remember she was here. That she was not safe. That I needed to save her from this hell. I could not be thrust into darkness, my memories stolen, never to be recalled. She would perish. The pain, the fear she would endure . . .
He ignored me. Taking a knife from his pocket, he ran the sharp blade down the front of my dress, severing it in two. He pushed the material aside, exposing my body to his eyes.