Deep Redemption

“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. Her 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.