Page 39 of Wolf, Willow, Witch
“I know,” Lincoln said.
“You don’t,” she snapped under her breath, shifting her wide eyes to him. He couldn’t. Not really, not entirely, not truly. “You don’t,” she said again, softer, harsher.
Lincoln nodded and squeezed her hand.
The dead can’t say no.Tehlor swallowed hard. Did they really think it would work, though? Did Phillip and Rose actually believe they could sire children with… She stared at Kimberly—at what was left of her—until her stomach roiled again. She switched her attention to the De’voreaux sisters.
Sophia stumbled. Before she could fall, Amy tugged her upright. Blood streamed from Sophia’s nostril and darkened her earlobe. It welled in her nailbeds and pooled in the grooves between her pearly teeth. All magic came with a cost, but whatever slithered around inside Sophia wreaked havoc on her body. It took from her. It stole.
“It’s killing her,” Tehlor said, glancing at Lincoln.
“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure they know that already,” he said, exhaling a short, sharp breath. “Necromancy sure is a hell of a miracle, though. Who needs a pamphlet when fifty people saw that shit with their own eyes.”
“Think she’s the finale?”
He nodded, plastering on a grin for the crowd. “Most likely.”
“The lady they pulled out of the bucket is a fuckin’ shell, Lincoln—”
“I know.”
“Okay, but—”
“Tehlor Nilsen,” Rose exclaimed, beckoning the pair with an outstretched hand. “Come and be reborn!”
The churchgoers whooped and clapped. Someone touched Tehlor’s arm, stroking her like a cat. Another person whispered a prayer, something about Genesis, and a man swatted Lincoln on the back, congratulating him. When Lincoln stepped forward, she stayed anchored in place. It took another gentle nudge before she finally crept through the crowd.
Everything is fine. Think. Think.She took measured steps, buying time.Don’t freak out. Don’t give yourself away.She searched Kimberly’s reanimated corpse for signs of true life. Stared at her wet, pale skin, and tried to meet her desolate gaze, but there was nothing. The woman’s chest did not move. She did not blink, breathe, or speak. Kimberly was gone and whatever stood next to Daniel, swaying back and forth on unsteady legs, was a lifeless marionette.A corpse can’t carry a fucking child.She saw the hunger in Rose’s eyes, the delirium in Phillip’s grin. Regardless of the truth, plausibility, ethics, right and wrong, and whether the Breath of Judas gave them access to the next generation of Haven soldiers or not, Rose and Philip had established control. In the eyes of their congregation, they were as close to God as someone could get.
Remember to smile.Tehlor took her place at Lincoln’s side.Don’t give in; don’t let them see you afraid.She resisted flinching when Rose took her by the shoulders and slid her hand beneath the strap of her purse, easing it away.Gunnhild, she thought, desperately. She tried to smile, to be approachable, to use her wits, to think on her feet.What now, what next, what do we do, what do we do, what—
“And you, son of Adam, will assist in her baptism,” Phillip said. He dipped his thumb in a bowl of perfumed oil and made the sign of the cross on Lincoln’s forehead. “Anointed one, will you see her through to a life anew?”
Lincoln lifted his brows. He shot Tehlor a careful glance and nodded. “I will.”
“Tehlor,” Phillip prompted, waving toward the shock tank.
Don’t crack.She steadied her uneven breath and took off her coat, draping it over a fold-out chair before she stepped into the cool water.Don’t break.It soaked her to the bone. Her jumpsuit clung to her.How do we get out?She stared at the roof of the gazebo. Watched a breeze rattle the unlit jar-lights.Tell me what to do, she chanted, reaching for magic, for Fenrir, for Hel, for anything, anyone.I am a child of old, she pleaded. Water licked her cheeks.Daughter of Freya, keeper of ancient rites, blood of the betrayed. Hear me. Hear me. I beg of thee.She exhaled and turned, meeting Sophia’s onyx eyes.I beg of thee.
Lincoln slipped his hand into the water and placed his palm on her sternum.
Rose came to stand beside the trough. She traced the willow cutting tucked behind Tehlor’s ear. “Will you return clean and pure, sister in Christ?” She touched the red ink on Tehlor’s throat the same way a wasp might perch on bare flesh. “Will you become a vessel? Will you kneel before the Lord?”
Fenrir’s voice boomed through her skull.The mighty kneel before no one.
Rage lit inside her, singeing the tail-end of her misplaced fear.
“You were right,” Tehlor whispered. She met Lincoln’s two-toned eyes and gave a curt nod. “Your plan was better.”
Rose cocked her head, confused.
A handsome, raspy laugh rumbled behind Lincoln's closed lips.
Tehlor reached into her boot, gripped the leather handle, and pulled her hidden hunting knife free. She swung, jamming the blade beneath Rose’s ear. A guttural, wet noise lurched from the Haven matriarch. Her eyes bulged, cemented on Tehlor, and her pink mouth dropped open. She coughed and sputtered. Like Kimberly, she pawed at the air, unable to properly defend herself. Tehlor twisted the knife and opened Rose’s throat.
Blood gushed over Tehlor’s knuckles and dripped into the baptism trough, splattering her cheeks. She wrenched the weapon free.There, bitch. Go shake hands with Christ. Rose crumbled into a lifeless heap beside the shock tank.
No one moved. No one screamed. People watched, waiting for another miracle. Their saucer-eyes searched for a signal, for reason, but no one saidamen, no one prompted them to holler or speak in tongues, no one praised God or quoted scripture. All was quiet except for Tehlor’s harsh breath and the sound of water sloshing over the sides of the trough as Lincoln lifted her out.
