Page 47 of Wanted

A chill runs through me at the mention of other women and girls. Women and girls who might be suffering like me.

Who might be suffering more than me.

I was so lost in my own torment, I never considered there were others out there going through the same things.

Staring hard through the windshield, Father McCall’s hands tighten around the steering wheel. “It isn’t right, and something must be done. It must be stopped.”

“You’re going to stop it?” I ask, my heart quickening with excitement at the prospect.

He shakes his head. “Not all of it, lass. I’m only one man and their power is growing every day. But I’m gathering friends, like the Catholics, and doing my best to help as many of you girls as I can.”

I nod slowly and sink back in my seat. His explanation grinding me back down to reality. It does feel like an impossible task to take on the entire Order.

Especially after what I, myself, have gone through and seen.

I may not know any of the finer details, but I know my father was a man of power and wealth. I lived a privileged life of luxury, despite the tension with my mother, before he abandoned me.

All the children I remember came from privileged families. And those families’s beliefs run deep. So deep they’re willing to give up their own flesh and blood in exchange for the promise of eternal paradise.

When you add in the Prophet himself, all his fanatical followers, and the army of zealous young men he’s been building…

It will take more than Father McCall and his Catholic friends to change anything.

Father McCall sighs. “Now that you know my plans, there is something I must ask of you. Something I have no right to ask.”

Unease slithers through me and I wonder if this is the moment he turns on me like everyone else in my life has.

“There’s another young lady, like you. She’s been under my care for many years, since she was a babe, and I’ve shielded her the best I can.”

I remember him speaking about another girl while the Prophet had me on my knees, but he said I wasn’t like her at the time. Was he lying?

“You said she’s not like me,” I remind him.

He glances over at me quickly and shifts in his seat like he’s nervous. “She’s not. She was born with the mark.”

“Born with the mark?” I repeat incredulously. “How?”

I’ve never heard of such a thing. Granted, I know very little, and what I’ve been told could have easily all been lies. But I was taught that the mark doesn’t appear until after a woman has had her first menstruation.

That’s why I was so upset I got my period.

Had I known it could happen before then… I don’t even want to think about what I would have done.

I probably would have found a way long ago to hang myself from my bedsheets.

“We don’t know how,” he admits, “but she’s… special. She possesses incredible healing abilities, and the Order has been using those abilities to bleed her weekly. I was at the Boston cathedral today on her behalf. I had hoped to get the Prophet to agree to transfer her to a different location.”

I simply peer at him, waiting for him to go on while I digest all this information.

“I originally planned to make this trip to Canada with her, but I couldn’t leave you behind after I saw what they did to you. Now I fear she will be in even more danger without me there to protect her…”

He trails off, his worry thickening the air between us. Whoever this woman is, it’s obvious he cares a great deal about her.

“You want to rescue her?” I ask, my stomach sinking with dread.

“Yes, lass, I do,” he says almost sadly. “It will be very dangerous, but I couldn’t live with myself if I don’t try. Just like I couldn’t live with myself if I left you behind. This may be my only chance to help her.”

I look back to my window and peer at all the trees rushing by. Their colors growing darker in the dimming sunlight.

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