Page 135

Jordan

Present Day

Whispers in a different language awaken me again. Sage burns in my nose and nausea has a tight grip on me. But I can feel my limbs, and that’s certainly not a good thing because my thigh is throbbing along with my tailbone, though it’s still numb. It’s so warm, I can feel my back sticking to whatever it is I’m led on.

I turn my head as sick rises up to my throat, ready to eject, but when my tongue touches material, I realise my jaw is aching from being opened, and my mouth is completely dry.

“Welcome!” The boom of Father Michaels’ voice makes me flinch, but my arms and legs are bound, and they burn with my movements.

Rope.

I don’t dare open my eyes as he continues speaking.

“The day has finally arrived. The day we’ve all been patiently awaiting. The day of atonement for this town's sins.” Something warm drips on my stomach. “Tonight, we will finally ascend to ultimate power, as one. Two souls from two different bloodlines, but joined as one, will be gifted to our Lord and Saviour, and in turn, he will grant us the gift of the eternal.” Fucking Hell. “Kain and Jordan Westbrook are here to fulfil the promise we made to the lord.”

A moan cuts through his speech, followed by rapid breaths. “Breathe, baby.” That’s Dorrian’s voice, much, much softer than I’ve ever heard it. Panting and painful moaning echo throughout the space.

Cassie—she’s giving birth. Holy fuck.

“It’s a night to be remembered. A sacrifice, and a new life born,” Father Michaels’ speech continues.

Cassie growls then whimpers.

“I know, baby. I know it hurts,” Dorrian coos.

There’s an echo. It’s cold, and a damp smell accompanies sage—Blackcastle church.

“Alas, Jordan Westbrook’s body could not be prepared for tonight’s ritual, it could not be cleansed,” Heath begins. “We must prepare her properly, before we offer God the greatest sacrifice.”

Shuffling begins and my muscles twitch with a desperation to move.

“I’d like everyone to come and take a picture.”

A picture? I roll my head to the sound of Heath’s voice and squint my eyes open. It’s blurry, but a red light allows me to see. I don’t see much because people are blocking my view, but I see the pictures as they walk past and a growl lodges in my throat. Naked pictures of me and Kain. The same ones from that night. Back then, I would’ve been flooded with shame and embarrassment, but all I feel right now is rage and a need to roll those pictures up, and stab them into everyone’s fucking eyes. The last person moves back to where they were and I close my eyes again, putting my head back in place.

“Father Michaels, will you do us the honour of cleansing Jordan’s sinful soul with the very essence of God?”

My eyes ping open and land on a naked body hanging above me, blood dripping onto my equally as naked skin. It swings, a head of blonde hair appearing first, then Samuel’s face. Mottled face. Eyes unseeing and mouth hanging open.

My arms are strapped on either side of me, and my legs are tied to the leg of a table. That’s when I notice I’m on the altar. The fucking altar table. The screw. The brown water. The altar table I cleaned. This is where they perform their sacrifices.

I yell, though it’s muffled through the gag in my mouth.

No one pays me any attention.

I look around and everyone is here. There are so many people. Faces I don’t recognise, but have seen around the town, all morphed into evil incarnate. And faces I do recognise.

Asher and Blake’s parents.

Lacey’s parents.

Cassie’s parents who spare not a single glance to their birthing daughter.

The entire town has gathered to watch this evildoing, holding those images of me and Kain like they’re some kind of trophy, or offering, or prize.

Asher and Blake are unconscious, tied up and left on the steps while everyone sits in the pews and watches the show.

“Samuel has performed the brave act of being our first sacrifice of the night, now Father Michaels must complete Jordan’s cleansing.”