Page 49 of The Preacher's Pet

I feel myself whither, literally drawing inside myself to hide, but Malachi notices and he reaches out his hand. I take it, and he pulls me to my feet and tugs me to stand beside him.

“Don’t do that,” he tells me. “Don’t let anyone else make you feel small. Anyone.” He delivers that word with a final glare toward Roman.

Cain steps in. “Roman, the only person who is fucking things up right now is you. What’s the point in being powerful if we can’t help the people who need it? If all we’re ever going to do is look after ourselves, then what the fuck is the point? By doing nothing, wearehurting someone. How does that make us any better than the people who hurt us?”

Roman recoils as though Cain has punched him. “I’m nothing like that man,” he growls.

Cain stands his ground. “Then prove it. Open your heart. Let someone else in. I know, deep down, you want to.”

I glance hopefully at Roman. Does he? I remember the moment we shared next to the tree. Something had passed between us then. He’d fought it, but it had been there.

My knees fold before I’ve even had time to think it through. I find myself at Roman’s feet, my hands linked behind my back, my head lowered.

“Please, Roman. We need you. We can’t do this without you. From what I’ve been told, you’re the one who has all the knowledge.”

Silence settles around the room. There’s a pregnant pause, the air simmering with tension as we wait for Roman’s reply. I dare not even look up, fearful of what I might see in his expression.

Finally, he speaks. “You think your flattery can win me over?”

I risk lifting my chin to make eye contact with him. “It’s not flattery, it’s the truth. You have. And I do believe you can help me, or I wouldn’t be here. It’s a scary thing I’m asking for, and it has taken a lot of courage to put it out there, believe me.”

He scratches his jaw and glances at his two friends. “Very well. I’ll help you, but it has to be later. Go about your day. Come back here tonight at the witching hour. Wear something … simple. Nothing modern. One of your dresses. No makeup. No scent. Hair clean and down. Oh, and you don’t shave, do you?”

I frown. Automatically, my hand goes to my chin as if he’s suggesting I’ve got a hairy face.

He laughs shortly. “No, Ophelia.” He leans in, eyes bright. “Your pussy. You don’t shave your pussy, do you?”

I swallow down my gasp and try to pass it off as a cough, but my cheeks burn. I’m still on my knees, and him speaking in such a way feels wanton.

“No. I mean … um, not really. I haven’t.”

Oh, Lord, what am I saying? I tried a couple of times with a razor and made a mess of myself, and I don’t have a lot of hair there. It’s fine and very pale.

“No,” I say simply and firmly.

“Good,” he replies.

What does he mean? Will he see that part of me?

“Does it involve sex?” I blurt, terror filling me. “The magic, I mean?”

“No,” Cain says softly. “But we need some hair, and not just from your head.” He shoots Roman a deadly look. “You can cut it yourself if you want. Bring it with you.”

“From my … down there?” I feel faint, and I’m glad I’m still on my knees on the floor.

“Yes,” Roman says curtly. “A lock from down there.”

I swallow hard. I can’t back out now.

“So, what time is the witching hour?” I ask.

“Three a.m.” Cain reaches down and pulls me to standing. “I’ll come to your room, Ophelia, and escort you here. I’ll be with you at half past two. Be sure to be waiting, as I can’t knock loudly. We don’t want anyone seeing us sneaking out here in the dead of the night. Too many people hate us, and I don’t want them seeing you with us and starting to hate you, too.”

I realize with a jolt that I wouldn’t care if the students hated me, other than Camile, if Cain and his friends accepted me. I don’t say as much, though, as I don’t want to appear desperate.

“Thanks,” I say to Cain. “I’ll be ready.”

I leave the three men at the water tower and head back to college for a day of classes. The entire day drags, and I can’t focus at all. During history, the lecturer asks me if I’m feeling okay. And I lie and say yes. I’m most definitely not feeling okay. I’m jittery, on edge, nervous. I know I’m doing the right thing by getting the Preachers to help me, but that doesn’t stop me from being apprehensive about what the night will hold. If they want some of my pubic hair, what else will they want?

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