Page 8 of Be My Salvation

Chapter eleven

The Sinner

Dinah

“Let’s go over the plan once again, Dinah. It’s paramount that you follow through as instructed. Your men’s lives are dependent on it.” David’s tired, wide-set, chocolate eyes implore the seriousness of the situation into mine, and his deep voice is filled with threats that he doesn’t bother to utter out loud. I get it, he’s worried that I’m going to go off script, and on an unhinged murder spree, instead of following the carefully choreographed charade they have me involved in. I want to roll my eyes, behind the mask I’m being forced to wear, like a spoiled brat at his tone, but I know I don’t have the luxury of baiting him.

The lavish large hall where all of the Brotherhood ceremonies take place is brightly lit by tall white pillar candles, casting off an amber glow in their black wrought iron stands. Even with their warmth, it can’t remove the chill in the air. Rich tapestries line the high stone walls, showing scenes of sacrifice and triumph, but I know the stories they tell are fabled to make the Brotherhood feel righteous. Pew after pew is being filled, by maggots in all of their finery, the sounds of their voices echoing in the cavernous space, as they sit on expensive cushions and profess to care about the wellbeing of humanity. The centerpiece of the room is the large white marble and gold pulpit, where the Holy Father reigns supreme. His throne chair is set out in the middle of the area, covered in a rich burgundy and gold floral tapestry, the armrests and feet shaped like roaring lions, as if hetruly was the defender of mankind, and not the enslaver. Behind him is the emblem of the Brotherhood of the Sacrament, carved into the stone wall and dipped in gold. A symbol of evil, one all these fools surrounding me proudly wear. My eyes glance over his shoulder, to where Zeke and Abe are being held at gunpoint by his men. He made sure to force their presence, so that I had a clear reminder of what would happen the minute I chose to disobey my father.Death. Destruction. Chaos.

My sinister father is hiding in the shadows like an odious specter, disguised as an acolyte in thick black robes, and a simple Brotherhood white mask. While one of his unsuspecting men is clothed in the extravagant and embellished robes and mask of the Holy Father. A lamb being sent to the slaughter, and the poor fool doesn’t even know the man he reveres has sacrificed him to die, at the hands of the unmerciful Unholy Ghost. He thinks it’s a great honor to play the Holy Father, and keep the real one safe. God help the foolish, for they will die at my righteous blade. “There is no need. I know what I have to do.” I raise my hand before David’s stern face, to thwart him from uttering his next threat, and a look of rage colors his handsome features, causing him to look grotesque, before he smooths out his appearance to his once again pleasant facade. He’s a monster, just like I am underneath all that pretty skin. He doesn’t fool me, because I see the rot below the surface. “I know the consequences of departing from my task. I won’t fail them again.” And I fucking won’t. The risks are too high, and I am not ever willing to see Zeke and Abe so damaged again.

Zeke winks at me, in an attempt to defuse some of the nervousness that he must sense riding me. My Prince Charming, always attempting to soothe my worries. I know if he had been allowed to trade places with me, he would have, despite all the risks. Abe, on the other hand, glares at me, his stunning amber eyes filled with disinterest, as if he really couldn’t care,one way or another, how this is all about to go down. Doesn’t he understand that I’m only going through with this to keep them safe, and get Sammy back? My heart aches at the thought that my berserker has stopped loving me, and no longer cares whether I survive or not. Once again, the fear that he will leave me, once we are all reunited, enters my mind, and I have to force it away to prevent the melancholy from overtaking me. “I want Sammy back by the end of the day, David. If you have lied to me, or think of betraying me, just know I won’t stop until I have yours and my father’s blood coating my hands. I’ll follow you into fucking hell, and greet the devil if I have to.” I grab a fistful of his ostentatious robe, and yank him forward, until we are mere inches away, and the subtle scent of his cologne envelops me. “You will die by my hand, I promise you that.”

His fingers tighten on mine, causing pain to shoot up my wrist and my digits to spasm, and still, I refuse to release him. The little gasp he made, when I grabbed him, had a thrill racing up my spine with the need to thrust a blade into his chest, and watch him bleed out. I should be worried that all my morbid desires are now wrapped up in death and murder, but I no longer care. Let me be a psychopath, and let them see the monster that they have created with all the suffering that they have caused. “We have sent a brigade of men to bring him back from Noah’s clutches. Don’t threaten me again, Dinah, you won’t like what happens when you do.” He pushes me away from him, and I release my hold, preferring to force myself to take deep, cleansing breaths, and prepare myself for murdering a defenseless man, in front of a horde of the Brotherhood.I can do this. I have to do this. He’s just one more of them to rid from this world. Easy.I picture my mother’s tearful face, as she pleads with me for vengeance, and it steels my will.I will avenge you, Mom, one death at a time.

The chanting from the choir above begins throughout the large hall, and I peer from the shadows at the masses assembled to hear the Holy Father’s sermon. High-ranking male officials, with their Sacred wives and daughters, stand in attendance, awaiting the Holy Father’s entrance as commanded. The large hall is full of people claiming to be godly and devout, while they commit atrocities and lies, destroying the world one malicious chunk at a time. There was a time I would have been excited to be in their midst, when I was younger, and naive to the realities behind the curtain of what the Brotherhood truly stands for. Future princes of the Order line the walls, jabbering and laughing with each other as if they don’t have a care in the world, in their expensive, black velvet robes, as if this will be just another social call, instead of the moment history changes. Their deaths are imminent, and they don’t yet realize they are breathing their last breaths. I catch a few of them staring at pious Sacred Daughters, draped in their finery, with veils shielding their features, with hunger and malice in their gaze, future women to be terrorized, all in the name of a God that has long abandoned us.

I glance back at Abe and Zeke, and both their faces are lined with worry and fear. Zeke meets my eyes head-on, dropping the mask that disguises his thoughts, and allowing me to see into his heart. He’s terrified for me, for us. I break our connection, after giving him a reassuring nod that all will be fine, when I have no idea if that is actually true. At first I believe that Abe won’t even acknowledge me, but I am surprised when he meets my gaze without flinching. There is a look of sorrow, mixed with pride and anxiety, across his features; he’s not hiding himself away from me. It rattles me that he’s chosen now, when we all could die, to show me some genuine emotion other than anger. Perhaps he knows we are never making it out of here. If anything goes wrong, they will be the first to die at David’s command. I refuse to allow that to happen.

“Here we go,”I whisper to myself, as I watch them disappear behind the thick, black curtains that will lead to where they will be held during this ordeal. Out of my close proximity, so that I can’t get to them before they are murdered in cold blood. David and my father have ensured every possibility was taken into account, to force my hand. With one last menacing look in my direction, David vanishes towards the entrance with the fake Holy Father in tow, so that they can commence their ostentatious procession. My father, however, stays partially hidden in the shadows, to watch me destroy the world he helped create.Asshole,the first chance I get to rip out his throat, I won’t dare hesitate.

The chanting gets louder, as the members of the Holy Father’s entourage appear, in between the massive dark walnut wood doors that lead into the room. The congregation immediately goes silent, men donning their masks hastily, while the females bow their heads, and stare at the floor demurely and respectfully, ever the obedient lambs. A cloying scent begins to diffuse through the air, and now that I know that it is nothing but hallucinogens, being pumped into the air, I can see past the smoke and mirrors my father and David use to control the masses. It’s a neat trick, but one they won’t get away with using on me again. I was relieved when David injected me with an antidote, so I wouldn’t succumb to its effects.

As my father’s clerics and subordinates stroll up the aisle, holding holy relics of the world long gone, the men of the Order bow their heads respectfully, and get a dreamy, loopy look on their expressions. The women fall into deep curtsies without rising, submitting to the meekness that is required of the females of the Brotherhood. Watching all of it disgusts me, especially knowing my father is behind all of this insanity. David is the last to enter before the Holy Father. The golden and bejeweled staff he holds, and the ornateness of his robes, depicthis importance within the regime. He is a favorite of the Holy Father, but it’s too bad the Brotherhood doesn’t understand why. Would they be so reverent of him, if they knew he preferred to suck the Holy Father’s cock as part of his piety? He moves with the sureness and greatness of a man who knows he’s untouchable. Yet, I know what he fears. He can’t bear to lose my father, his lover, his whole world. The man that he would do unspeakable evil in the name of.

His bright, sienna-brown eyes stare out from the holes of the mask in my direction, in an auspicious warning that he knows he’s already won before we’ve even begun. A part of me wants to disobey him, call out his and my father’s misdeeds, but I won’t. Not only because he holds my men’s lives in the palm of his hands, and can have them eliminated with the flick of his fingers, but also because, although I hate to admit it, killing the Holy Father suits my plans, too. I desire there to be chaos amongst the Brotherhood, to let all of these disgusting, conniving men realize that a woman has true power. That at any moment, we can rise up and murder each and every one of them where they stand. They need to know they are not safe from my wrath, and that I am not done yet with ridding the world of their stain on humanity. Crimson blood will coat these walls and floors before I am done here today, and the knowledge makes me feel all warm and tingly inside.

The fake Holy Father enters the back of the room, and a distinct hum sounds throughout the space. He moves slowly and reverently down the aisle, and I can almost smell the fear mixed with yearning, from the men who watch him with heavy-lidded eyes and covet his position. They all want to take his place and control society with an iron fist, control the women around them until no one dares defy them. The selfishness of greedy, little inept men who can only gain power and strength by enslaving those they deem inferior, or weaker than them. That is the trueBrotherhood modus operandi, take by force what you can not achieve otherwise, and use God as your scapegoat.

The fake Holy Father reaches the pulpit, and stands before his silent and attentive flock, his bejeweled hands lifted in the air like a faithful preacher. “May the Lord bless and praise you. The Brotherhood, honor you and keep you sacred.” All the men raise their heads and look up at their leader, while the women are still forced to remain docile and obedient, never raising their eyes to look directly at the visage of the Holy Father. After all, it’s a sin in our current world for a woman to act boldly. “It is right to give thanks to the Lord, my God, and to the Brotherhood, which keeps its order.”

“Sacred sons and daughters, may the Lord our God keep you safe and holy. May his abundance spring forth from your loins, and fill our desolate world with new champions of our faith. May your offerings to God please him and fill his ranks, and may you bring faith to the Godless. Sacred daughters, I implore you to do the will of our Lord, and submit to your husbands, fathers, and brothers, so that the world may be cleansed from your feminine sin. The evil within you can be purged only through obedience and sacrifice. The righteous men of the Brotherhood are here to save your weak and tainted souls.”

“It is right to give thanks to the Lord, my God, and to the Brotherhood, which keeps its order,” the sheep chant. I roll my eyes behind my own mask, knowing every sinister word that will leave this imposter’s mouth, having been forced to bear witness while he recited them over and over, until he perfected them in my father’s stead. Every syllable sickens me as a woman, a human, and more as a free thinker. The knowledge that they managed to enslave half of the human race with this rhetoric is inexcusable. I want my sisters to rise, and take back what is rightly theirs, their fucking lives, their body autonomy, their very souls, from the evil that is oppressing them.

“These are perilous times, my children; let the word of the Lord and the Brotherhood, which keeps its order, guide you, and do not be swayed by fear. For fear and disobedience is the work of the devil which tempts you to leave our flock. Hold firm to our beliefs, and the Brotherhood of the Sacrament will make this world great once again, and you shall prosper richly as a reward.”

“It is right to give thanks to the Lord, my God, and to the Brotherhood, which keeps its order.” I ready myself, my hand clutching tightly to the long, silver blade in my clasp. The one I will use to rid the first of many more men from this world, who threaten the safety of every woman who still breathes. David and my father don’t understand what they have truly done. They want a puppet they can pull the strings of and control, but what they are unleashing is a plague on everyone within their society. I will be the face of a revolution, and encourage women to rise up and murder any man who has abused them in the past, or may attempt to in the future. A cleansing will happen, but one of my making, not theirs. The streets in every city will run thick with blood before I am done, and no one will be spared, themselves included, if I have my way.

“In honor of our sacred duty, I bring forth one of our own sacred wives and daughters. A child of my own blood, who will bring onwards many sons from her blessed union with Brother Ezekiel Rothesay, to fill God’s army against the evil that still inhabits this earth. For the Lord said, be fruitful, daughter, and rid yourself of the unholy sin of womanhood and profess to your God that you will obey him in all things.” I have to swallow the snicker that threatens to leave my lips at his words. I’ll be ridding myself of something very shortly, but this guy is not going to be thrilled when I do. I step forward from the shadows adorned in my bejeweled navy gown, my head bowed low, my ornate mask in place, and the blade hidden within the folds ofmy full skirt. There’s a smile rising on my face at the deed I am about to commit, but the hungry men whose eyes trail across my frame can’t see it. They can’t see their deaths painted already on my soul in vibrant crimson red. I reach the spot below the Holy Father and curtsy low, assuring I keep the sharp blade hidden from sight.

A tune enters my mind, playing a song from a world long gone, from a small machine that played music, that Sammy bought long ago at a swap meet for me. He bemoaned the expense, but caved when he saw how much pleasure music brought me. I don’t remember all the words, but the song was titled‘Women’s World’,and right now, it prophesies what is about to happen here. It’s about time women rose up, and took back what’s always been theirs, and realized how much power they truly hold. I will strike the first blow, so that they can regain their freedom.

“Rise, Sacred Daughter, and allow the Brotherhood to honor your dedication to the absolution of sin.” I climb the step to reach the Holy Father delicately, my head remaining bowed, assuring that I appear weak, non-threatening, and contrite. My voice rings out softly, “It is right to give thanks to the Lord, my God, and to the Brotherhood, which keeps its order.”

“Members of the Brotherhood of the Sacrament, be seated and pay witness and homage to this Sacred Daughter and wife, receiving her blessing to be fruitful.” It’s amusing to me that these sycophants don’t question where my beloved and powerful husband, or his father, one of the highest-ranking members of their order, is. After all, if Zeke’s cherished and obedient sacred wife is about to be blessed by the Holy Father, shouldn’t he be present, and next to me, to witness it? Yet, not a single one of them will raise the concern, preferring to follow like lost sheep in a herd, rather than be wolves. I refuse to cower any longer, and I have always been a wolf. I raise my head and stare at theman playing the Holy Father, and it saddens me that it’s not my father once again behind the mask. I could have rid myself of him, and the villainous poison he spreads, amongst the poor souls of this world so desperate to avoid further war, that they allowed themselves to be misled into tyranny.

The Holy Father steps forward, his arm rising to lay his hand along the brow of my mask. “Blessed be the fruit that shall come forth from this Sacred Daughter, who has willingly come to the Lord to be saved. Let her be filled with the spirit and glory of God, and her weakness be subdued so she may honor the Brotherhood and her husband.” My hand strikes forward forcefully, embedding the sharp blade into the middle of his abdomen, and a gasping sound escapes him. He stumbles forward into my body, but my other arm strikes out, holding him in place as I dig the blade deeper. For now, my body and my voluminous gown are disguising what is happening, but I can’t remain in this position for much longer. He must take his last breath while they watch, so that they realize what I have done. I yank the blade back out, his warm blood coating my hands within the black lace gloves I wear, and painting them a macabre shade of red. Beautiful. His death will be stunning, and one of my finest moments as the Unholy Ghost.

“What... is... happening?” He questions through the mask, and I almost feel pity for him. I lean forward until my mask is pressed against his, my eyes meeting his dark blue ones, and seeing the pain and horror in their depths. “They have deceived you. You are a pawn that will die at my hands, so this world can be reborn.” He stumbles backward, and falls on his ass on the floor with a gurgled shout, clutching at his stomach. His robes spread in all directions, until the tanned flesh of his gangly, hairy legs, and his tight white underwear are visible. A wet spot rapidly appears on the front of them, as blood soaks into his cream robes; the weak fool has soiled himself. Those in thepews are beginning to come out of their hallucinogenic stupor, and are realizing that something is very wrong here. What they are seeing is just a man, not the embodiment of God, as they have been led to believe. Not an entity with special powers, but something made of flesh and blood, someone who can bleed just like they can and, more importantly, someone who can die. I stroll forward, despite the screams and shouts behind me, counting on David and my father to ensure that no one stops me from committing this crime they are so invested in.

“He is no God, but a false prophet! He did not save this world but instead enslaved it, and condemned it to hell! I will rid this world of all the men who seek to destroy it, for I am the Unholy Ghost!” I shout as I raise the blade above my head, and slam it into the neck of the Holy Father, knocking his mask off his face, and revealing his features to all those who are watching in terror.

A shot rings out, just as I raise the blade again, intent on slamming it into the imposter’s chest, and ensuring that his heart no longer beats. The pain is instantaneous, as it hits the side of my arm, and forces me to release my grip on the knife, which goes clamoring to the floor. I rip the mask off my face and spin around, prepared to deal with David or my father’s treachery, but what greets my eyes has me faltering, and my breath escaping me in disbelief.

“Hello, Nightstar. Surprised to see me, or maybe you forgot that I still existed.”

Chapter twelve

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