Page 30 of This Blood That Breaks Us
“Why can’t he come?” I asked.
“Because he’s an outsider. And this place is sacred. We won’t be long. Take off your shoes.”
I gave Will a sorry nod and complied. I liked hanging out with Sirius. It was different from Ezra. Ezra was complicated and confusing, but Sirius’s goal was always clear. He wanted me to be the strongest so I could protect Her. There was no hidden agenda. He didn’t try to be fake nice or parent me, he just wanted to make me better.
It was a church. There were no crosses, but pews lined the back and rows of lit candles led to an altar.
“The candles in this building always stay lit for Her.”
“What is this place?”
“It’s the place where it all began for Her, where the human vessel was born.”
On the ground was a blood stain, and at the far end of the room, sat a mural of Her. It had been hand-painted onto the wall. Black and white. But instead of the light eyes I knew, the eyes on the mural were black and dripping.
Taking a step back, I could smell it. “It’s . . . blood.”
“Yes, art for Her. Of Her and Her magnificence. Hand-painted.”
Sometimes, I forgot I was in a cult. Truly, I forgot. These people seemed normal enough until I saw something like the blood mural, then it made me wonder how I could forget.
“What exactly do you do in here?”
“We pray.”
“To the wall?”
“Just get on your knees.”
I sighed but did as he said.
“Do you have a god you pray to?”
“No, I don’t believe in anything. Or anything that cares.”
“She cares for you.”
“Doubt that.”
“You’re blinded by your own self. If She didn’t, She’d have gutted your friends in front of you.”
“I’m supposed to give kudos for not killing my friends?”
“Your friends murdered a member of our Guard and caused you to be in this very position. Did you ever think of that? If Eros wasn’t dead, you’d never have been called on the true path.”
“Lucky me.”
“Shut up and close your eyes.”
“And do what?”
“Be quiet and think of Her. See what She brings you.”
What a load of crap.I’d somehow escaped the hell of normal church and landed back in one. Mom was a believer. She’d wanted us all to believe, but her faith only made me want to believe less. Mom got nothing from her prayers. She was always exhausted, and her life was hard. She could never catch a break. If she had a real god, he never listened.
“Just feel. Listen.”
Nothing. I heard only the flickering flames and William’s pacing outside in the snow.
