Deep Redemption
Page 51
“No!” I protested. I felt Sarai’s deft fingers spread a cool liquid along my core. “Please,” I begged, trying to get free from the other sister’s grip. I could not move. I wanted to close my eyes. But when I saw the victory in Sarai’s eyes I forced myself to keep them open. She met my challenge by curling her fingers and inserting the liquid further inside me. My nose flared at the unwanted intrusion, but I breathed through the discomfort.
I would not show my weakness.
Sarai put her mouth to my ear. “It is to make you wet and able to take him in the ceremonial bed. He is big, and this joining needs to go to plan. Nothing can go wrong.” I fought back the bile that was racing up my throat. Sarai withdrew her hands, leaving my inner thighs damp.
The door opened, flooding the room in daylight. A guard stood in the doorway.
“Move,” he ordered sternly.
I did as I was told. I passed where he stood, to where another guard was waiting outside. Even from back here, in the small quarters near the prophet’s mansion, I could hear the excitement of our people in the air. They would be in their ceremonial whites. They were only asked to wear their ceremonial whites when something truly special or important was happening. However, I was sure that they would never expect what was coming this day.
The guards sandwiched me between them as they led me along a path to the patch of land in front of the prophet’s residence. With every step my heart beat faster and faster. The supposedly joyous music coming through the speakers only sounded ominous to my ears. My steps faltered when suddenly the music was cut and a familiar voice came through the speakers.
The guard in the front suddenly stopped and held up his hand to someone I could not see. I realized that we must be at the end of the aisle. My hands tightened on the stems of my bouquet.
The prophet began to speak. “People of The Order. You have been gathered here today to witness a miracle. A hope we thought had been lost.” In the long pauses between his words, the commune was deathly silent, the people hanging on to every word the prophet spilled. His voice sent shards of ice down my back. I breathed in slow breaths to compose myself.
“Today, you will all bear witness to an answered prayer. Just when we thought a prophecy would not be fulfilled, God showed us he would never desert his people and delivered us a gift . . . the gift of salvation. Today, we celebrate that gift!”
The guard ordered me forward with a wave of his hand, but my legs began to shake so much I was unsure that I could walk. Sarai appeared in my peripheral vision and motioned with her finger for me to look down. I bowed my head.
Making sure I breathed steadily, I stepped forward until the path turned to green grass under my feet. The guard placed his hand on my back and steered me until I knew I faced the congregation. A collective gasp sounded amongst the people, and in that moment, I was glad my orders were to keep my eyes downcast. I would not be able to move if I had to look my people in the eyes . . . people that detested me as much as they believed they needed me to save their mortal souls.
“Walk,” the guard behind me said quietly, too quietly for anyone else to hear. “The prophet waits at the end of the aisle.”
I slowly made my way down the aisle. The people were sitting on the ground, dressed in white. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see some of their faces. The few I caught actually looked me in the eye, and their mouths dropped in shock. “A Cursed,” they whispered, confirmation traveling through the congregation at lightning speed.
I heard people crying, rejoicing for the salvation they believed me to be. Worse, I heard them praising the prophet, speaking in tongues and wailing in delight.
The atmosphere became electric as I approached the altar. I stopped and turned to face Prophet Cain. He reached out and took my hand in his, and I felt as though I was going to be sick. He was not gentle like Rider; he had taken my hand aggressively, arrogantly.
“Proceed,” he barked at Brother Luke, the Prophet’s Hand. I flinched at the harshness in his voice and tried my hardest not to shake.
The ceremony began. I listened as Brother Luke read from the scriptures and spoke of the prophecy of the Cursed Sisters. I listened as he read Prophet David’s words about a devil-tainted woman’s soul merging with the prophet of The Order to save all those that followed The Order’s path. I did not hear much else; the people had grown louder in their excitement. I heard snatches of Prophet Cain responding to something that Brother Luke asked. Then the prophet pulled on my hand and I knew it was my turn to speak.
“Do you, Harmony, Cursed Sister of Eve, take your lord prophet and savior to be your wedded husband? Allowing him to be the king of both your heart and soul? To rule over you as your master and spiritual leader? To obey his every command and welcome him to chase the evil from your tainted soul?”
I would not show my weakness.
Sarai put her mouth to my ear. “It is to make you wet and able to take him in the ceremonial bed. He is big, and this joining needs to go to plan. Nothing can go wrong.” I fought back the bile that was racing up my throat. Sarai withdrew her hands, leaving my inner thighs damp.
The door opened, flooding the room in daylight. A guard stood in the doorway.
“Move,” he ordered sternly.
I did as I was told. I passed where he stood, to where another guard was waiting outside. Even from back here, in the small quarters near the prophet’s mansion, I could hear the excitement of our people in the air. They would be in their ceremonial whites. They were only asked to wear their ceremonial whites when something truly special or important was happening. However, I was sure that they would never expect what was coming this day.
The guards sandwiched me between them as they led me along a path to the patch of land in front of the prophet’s residence. With every step my heart beat faster and faster. The supposedly joyous music coming through the speakers only sounded ominous to my ears. My steps faltered when suddenly the music was cut and a familiar voice came through the speakers.
The guard in the front suddenly stopped and held up his hand to someone I could not see. I realized that we must be at the end of the aisle. My hands tightened on the stems of my bouquet.
The prophet began to speak. “People of The Order. You have been gathered here today to witness a miracle. A hope we thought had been lost.” In the long pauses between his words, the commune was deathly silent, the people hanging on to every word the prophet spilled. His voice sent shards of ice down my back. I breathed in slow breaths to compose myself.
“Today, you will all bear witness to an answered prayer. Just when we thought a prophecy would not be fulfilled, God showed us he would never desert his people and delivered us a gift . . . the gift of salvation. Today, we celebrate that gift!”
The guard ordered me forward with a wave of his hand, but my legs began to shake so much I was unsure that I could walk. Sarai appeared in my peripheral vision and motioned with her finger for me to look down. I bowed my head.
Making sure I breathed steadily, I stepped forward until the path turned to green grass under my feet. The guard placed his hand on my back and steered me until I knew I faced the congregation. A collective gasp sounded amongst the people, and in that moment, I was glad my orders were to keep my eyes downcast. I would not be able to move if I had to look my people in the eyes . . . people that detested me as much as they believed they needed me to save their mortal souls.
“Walk,” the guard behind me said quietly, too quietly for anyone else to hear. “The prophet waits at the end of the aisle.”
I slowly made my way down the aisle. The people were sitting on the ground, dressed in white. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see some of their faces. The few I caught actually looked me in the eye, and their mouths dropped in shock. “A Cursed,” they whispered, confirmation traveling through the congregation at lightning speed.
I heard people crying, rejoicing for the salvation they believed me to be. Worse, I heard them praising the prophet, speaking in tongues and wailing in delight.
The atmosphere became electric as I approached the altar. I stopped and turned to face Prophet Cain. He reached out and took my hand in his, and I felt as though I was going to be sick. He was not gentle like Rider; he had taken my hand aggressively, arrogantly.
“Proceed,” he barked at Brother Luke, the Prophet’s Hand. I flinched at the harshness in his voice and tried my hardest not to shake.
The ceremony began. I listened as Brother Luke read from the scriptures and spoke of the prophecy of the Cursed Sisters. I listened as he read Prophet David’s words about a devil-tainted woman’s soul merging with the prophet of The Order to save all those that followed The Order’s path. I did not hear much else; the people had grown louder in their excitement. I heard snatches of Prophet Cain responding to something that Brother Luke asked. Then the prophet pulled on my hand and I knew it was my turn to speak.
“Do you, Harmony, Cursed Sister of Eve, take your lord prophet and savior to be your wedded husband? Allowing him to be the king of both your heart and soul? To rule over you as your master and spiritual leader? To obey his every command and welcome him to chase the evil from your tainted soul?”
