Page 5 of The Preacher's Pet

“Leave her alone, Cain. I don’t know what your deal is with her, but you clearly terrified the poor girl, and she doesn’t need that.”

I watch Camile with something akin to respect stirring in me. I didn’t think she had it in her. “I’ll be sure to take that intoconsideration, Camile.” I don’t want to fight with her now, and I’d like it if she would go and check on Ophelia, so she’s not alone. I could go, but she’ll freak out, and I need time to think before we speak. Time to gather my thoughts.

Camile nods once then strides toward the college.

“She’s got some balls on her,” Malachi says, obviously as surprised as I am.

I turn back to face the looming walls of the college again, my thoughts still on Ophelia, and wonder what the hell happened to my childhood friend.

Maybe one day, I’ll get her to talk to me, and I’ll find out.

3

OPHELIA

I slammy bedroom door behind me and turn the old-fashioned key in the lock. It snaps into place with a satisfying click. Being in this place is like living in an old castle. They don’t even have keycards for the rooms.

I press my back to the solid wooden door and heave air in and out of my lungs. My heart thumps, the beat of it pounding in my ears. I close my eyes and focus on regaining control of my breath. Sweat dampens my hairline, and my white dress clings to my spine. I’m chilled now, and I shiver.

Gradually, everything slows, and I’m able to think clearly again.

The first place my thoughts go to is Cain Lockwood.

To say he’d filled out would be an understatement. He must have quadrupled in size. He’d been a skinny kid, tall but lanky. Self-conscious in that way pre-teens are, like he never quite knew what to do with all his arms and legs. His family had been so different from mine. Where my parents have always been supportive and loving, even despite everything we’ve been through, his father was always cold and hard.

I cover my face with my hands and let out a long breath. He’s here, at the same college as me. What am I supposed to do about that? I can’t avoid him forever.

The truth is I’m scared. I’m not the same girl I was back then. I’m sure she’s still inside me, somewhere, screaming to get out, but I can’t let that happen.

The things I’d been taught for years about how I’d spend eternity burning in a lake of fire and brimstone if I had so much as a single impure thought haven’t left me. When I’d lain eyes on Cain, the way my heart had flipped, I’d known the possibility of keeping those thoughts at bay would be nearly impossible. Being near him was dangerous, not only for me physically, but for my immortal soul.

My therapist told me the things I’d been taught weren’t true, but no matter how much people try to convince me, there’s always this little voice in the back of my mind whispering…but what if it is?The thoughts terrify me. Years spent sitting daily in the meeting room, withhimat the front, teaching us exactly how we should behave, how we should dress, how we should think, couldn’t be washed away with a year of therapy. The Prophet never gave gentle lessons. Never kind. They were always terrifying speeches about blood running down the streets, judgments, and hell, and burning forever. He made me believe I’d burn for eternity unless I did everything in my power to fight against my true nature.

I might be away from that life now, but those lessons have stayed with me.

A sharp knock comes at the door directly behind me, and I jump. A squeak of terror escapes my lips, and I spin around to face the door, staring at the wood as though I hope a sudden magical power will allow me to see through it.

There’s only one face that comes to mind, and it’s covered in a mask.

How does he know what room I’m staying in? This place is huge. Has someone told him?

“Ophelia?”

But the voice coming from beyond the door isn’t male. I recognize it as belonging to the girl who’d taken me to the party. Camile, the girl who said she’d be a sort of chaperone to me.

I slump with relief. Self-consciously, I rearrange my hair to hide one side of my face and go to the door and unlock it. It isn’t until I’ve got the door partway open that it occurs to me that she might not be alone, but, to my relief, she is.

Camile’s dark eyes are wide with a combination of excitement and confusion. Her cheeks are flushed from chasing after me.

“Are you okay?”

I step back to let her inside. “I think so.”

As soon as she steps inside the room, I close the door and lock it again. She gives me a curious look, but I don’t feel I should have to explain my need to stay safe.

“What happened back there?” she asks. “You took one look at the Preachers and ran off.”

“The Preachers?”

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