Page 36 of Wolf, Willow, Witch
Gunnhild nestled into a scarf bundled at the bottom of the bag and wiggled her nose. Tehlor closed the purse and slung it over her shoulder, pausing to check herself in the visor mirror. Dusty rose lipstick, mascara, eyebrow gel. She smoothed her palms over the modest bun secured at her nape, and nodded at her reflection. The driver’s side door creaked open.
“You good?” Lincoln asked.
Your ancestors conquered the land and the sea, she told herself.You are chainbreaker, blessed by Fenrir, child of the north, descendent of shield-maidens.She slid out of the truck and shut the door.Take no shit, bitch.“Yeah, let’s go.”
Walking into the Haven madness felt like wading into glacier water. She cleared her throat and took Lincoln’s hand, assuming her role as devoted wife, eager convert, newborn Christian. A few women from the cookout waved. Daniel stood with Phillip near the band, nodding slowly as the pastor spoke. Newcomers rambled in tongues—lilting, sporadic sounds coaxed from open throats and chittering mouths—and gospel-style Lord Huron filled the air. Tehlor chewed on the inside of her cheek and squeezed Lincoln’s palm, casting a cautious glance from one gazebo to the next.
The area beyond the revival was bathed in thick darkness. No trails pierced the treeline. No other outlets; no other escape routes. One way in. One way out. Moonlight skirted the meadow, silver and muted, only peeking through when the cloud cover drifted.Perfect, Tehlor thought. It was a masterful trap. Easily guarded, easily hidden, easily contained. Leaving would be tricky but with a big enough distraction…
“Tehlor, hi,” Amy exclaimed, sidestepping a person with their hands held high, swaying to worship music. Her knee-length taupe skirt hugged her legs, and a black puffy vest was zipped to her chin. She reached for Tehlor, taking her by the wrist, and turned to Lincoln. “You should join the boys,” she said, nodding toward Pastor Phillip. “They’ll get you ready to be anointed.”
Anointed. Tehlor made the shape of the word but stayed silent.
Lincoln watched Amy closely. He nodded and let go of Tehlor’s hand.
“Be careful with my wife,” he said, closing his blue eye in a quick wink.
Tehlor watched Lincoln walk away, suddenly struck with the sick, exciting thrill of being separated. Of knowing their plan was officially in motion. She turned toward Amy and offered a practiced smile.
“Do I get to be anointed?” Tehlor asked.
Amy batted her gloved hand in the air. “No, no, that’s only for those in service of the household. He’ll be anointed and then he’ll assist with your baptism.”
“What do you mean?”
She quirked her head, amused. “Oh, well, he’s your husband. So, you’re in service to him through God which means he’s in service to God through you, but since he’s the head of the house he has the authority to step in and assist with your baptism. Adam and Eve. Strength and sensitivity; provider and provided for—you know the drill. By his hands, you’ll be washed anew.” She grinned, rubbing Tehlor’s arm reassuringly. “Me and Daniel are doing the same thing, don’t be nervous.”
Batshit. Tehlor tried to relax her jaw, but her smile cracked. She wanted to take Amy by the shoulders and give her a good shake.Wake up, bitch.She wanted to take her out for a cocktail and lean in close over a shitty, stained bar.They’re playing you. Rose would gut you in a heartbeat if it kept her in control.But she swallowed instead and nodded along. When she curled her arm around Amy’s elbow, the other woman hummed appreciatively.
“So, last night…” Tehlor paused, inching closer as Amy guided them toward a coffee station in the corner of the prayer gazebo.
“Don’t worry about that.” Amy huffed out a sigh and shook her head. She pursed her lips and untangled from Tehlor, busying her hands with paper cups and an insulated coffee dispenser. “I know it’s kind of weird, okay? But Sophia is serving a greater purpose. Her transgressions are forgivable.” Each word skipped like a stone in her mouth. “She’ll atone with Holy Father and make right with her heart.”
“And what about the…” Tehlor made a show of looking left and then right, and leaned closer, shielding a secret. “The Breath of—”
Amy hushed her through a giddy smile. “Oh, wait ‘til you see,” she whispered. Her tone shifted, suddenly slick with anticipation.She’s so sure,Tehlor thought, miserably.She’s in too deep.“Here we are, turning malice into miracles. Planting seeds. Ushering life into lifeless places.”
Deep in Tehlor’s spirit, where her hunger for power met old, decaying grief, where her past curdled and she yearned for womanhood, friendship, and safety, she hoped Amy might blink awake. Might shake off the spell and come to her senses. She felt like a drunk bitch in a bar, staring at her doe-eyed friend in the bathroom.He’s garbage, this is stupid, you’re better than this. And watching said friend walk out anyway. Right into danger, right into a lie.
Tehlor exhaled, pretending to be relieved. “You heard her, though, right? Your sister. You heard her last night when—”
“When she embarrassed me in front of the entire congregation? Yeah, I heard her. She’s always been like that, you know. So overdramatic. I mean, c’mon, she’s inatonement, she’s reflecting on her decisions, she’s the chosen vessel. A lot of us would love to be in her shoes.”
Chosen vessel. She tried to smile and took the coffee Amy handed her.
“Vikings believed in sacrifices, right? It’s Old Testament stuff,” Amy said, nonchalantly, and shrugged. “What we’re doing here, the souls we’re saving tonight, it’s all byhisdesign.” She pointed at the top of the gazebo. “Those who are chosen will answer the call. They’ll be fruitful—we’llbe fruitful—and the Lord will keep us.”
“The Lord will keep us,” Tehlor said, forcing confidence into her voice.
Amy De’voreaux knew her sister was carrying the Breath of Judas. She knew Haven planned to kill her, she knew Rose and Phillip were leading the church down a violent, unsustainable path. Yet shebelieved, nonetheless. Death, murder, miracles. Amy subscribed to anything and everything blessed by the people who’d shamed her into compliance. For a brief, insignificant moment, Tehlor thought about starting her own cult.
It’d be easy, wouldn’t it?
Candles dripped wax onto packed snow and Tehlor sipped the too-hot coffee, pushing the earthy flavor around in her mouth. She listened as Amy described the beginning of her day, talking in great detail about howlongit’d taken to haul the materials into the preserve, prattling on about the setup—it took, like foreverandoh my gosh, I was dying for StarbiesandI can’t wait to be reborn—but when she said those last two words,be reborn, Tehlor hearddie. Hel’s voice, hushed and rigid, coasted her left ear.Die, like a promise.Die, like it was something she should’ve known all along.
“What?” Tehlor asked.
“Be reborn,” Amy repeated, flicking her hand toward the baptism trough. She bumped her shoulder against Tehlor’s and lifted a brow. “We’ll be miracles, you and me.”
