Page 30 of Spark of Madness

My action stirs chaos, and the men descend. My eyes are caught on Arlo’s, but he can’t even get to me before another has their arms around my waist, lifting and dragging me away. I stare as Arlo remains fixed to the spot, as my body is carried away with the Control surrounding me, all except for him.

In his own rage, the sight of him draws me in, keeps my furious attention locked on him while I’m dragged away. His chest rises and falls as anger flares his nostrils; but strangely, there’s a fluttering inside my stomach at the way his piercing eyes narrow on me.

He looks at me with passion.

He looks at me with fierce determination, with intent, with a plan.That shouldn’t trigger my curiosity, yet it does.

It keeps me drawn in, zeroed in on him as he stomps after me. Arlo’s rapt attention fuels me with anger, and I thrash against the arms that hold me, letting rage build as I’m spun away and dropped heavily to the ground again.

I land on my boots, but the forward thrust pitches my weight, causing me to stumble ahead. I’m determined not to fall. I find my balance and start walking before they can push me, moving toward the villagers gathered in the square.

The day is too bright for these dark events.

The villagers watch, confusion and anticipation mixed in their expressions. They probably don’t knowwhythey’re gathered; they’re probably just excitedtobegathered. They must know by now that I’ve done something wrong. My sin is their entertainment—whatever my punishment will be is a spectacle for them.

Murmurs and whispers carry to my ears as I’m marched up the concrete steps toward the Homestead. Three of the Control climb to the landing ahead of me. They stop and turn to face me so abruptly that I nearly lose my balance trying to stop myself from falling.

A hand latches around my wrist, another pressing to the small of my back. The touch of fingertips grazing my spine with delicate control is shocking, causing a shudder to ripple through every nerve ending.

My head turns, and I’m not surprised when I lock eyes with Arlo. It’s his leather-clad hand on my wrist, his palm on my back. With a quick jerk, he spins me around, and I suck in a gasping breath.

Clustered together in the center of the large gravel-covered square is everyone I’ve ever known. They’re staring at me, judging me, waiting on bated breath to know why I’ve been brought to stand before them.

This is perhaps the first moment I’ve ever been glad that both my parents are dead—at least I don’t have to see them gathered, staring with fear and embarrassment in their eyes.

A mass of servants, all dressed in black, emerge from the Sanctuary, realizing that there’s a gathering that they hadn’t been called to. It’s only because it’s the week after service—they’re meant to be left alone in reverence, and this is a disturbance.

I’ma disturbance—a ripple in the perfectly flowing current of life in Ember Glen.

My heart pounds as the girls from Sanctuary quicken their pace, my stomach clenching in shame as Ellary recognizes me standing on the steps and rushes, pushing through the cluster of servants to meet the gathering of villagers.

I can’t look at her.

I turn my head, gazing off toward the line of trees, quietly wishing I were back in the meadow among the wildflowers.

Too soon, Killian’s bellowing voice drags my attention back to the unfolding nightmare. “Mercy Madness has sinned.”

The dramatic hisses and sighs of disapproval that roll through the throng is nearly laughable—as if they hadn’t already figured it out.

“On the night of our purge, Mercy turned and fled from a man as he approached her. She ran into the forest and hid in a tree. She knowingly, and willfully, refused to serve the Impulse, and her transgression cannot go unrecognized by our authority. Mercy has actively engaged in rebellion, not only by fleeing during service, but in her withdrawal from her duties to serve this community. She chose her own well-being over the well-being of every other man, woman, and child in this village. She has chosen not to fulfill her purpose as a servant of the Impulse, and in doing so, has put you all in danger.”

I scoff, too angry to hide it any longer.

They aren’t in danger because I chose to flee rather than be lit on fire, but it’s what we’ve been made to believe our entire lives. As I learned today, even my mother was made to believe it—though she’d questioned it just like me. They’ve made us believe that our community is safe because men are allowed to purge on nights of service, and servants are honored for their sacrifices.

But we were never given the choice to sacrifice, so it’s not sacrifice at all…it’s slaughter.

In my obvious disdain, Arlo jerks my wrist, tilting my body harshly to the side. I grimace as he twists, bending my arm at the elbow and pinning it behind me. Pressing forward, my back arches away from the pressure, and I groan.

“Quiet, sinner,” he whispers.

I lift my foot and slam it back down again, stomping on his toe. His leather shoe is hard, and I’m sure he doesn’t feel a thing. Still, he presses harder, making my back arch deeper. His other hand wraps around my hair and tugs, forcing my chin skyward.

His mouth is against my ear, and he speaks so quietly that I don’t think the Control surrounding us can even hear. “I will bind you so tightly that your veins bulge and your limbs go numb. Don’t test me.” The rasp of truth in his tone is jarring, and I still myself in his hold.

Gradually, he loosens his grip, his fingers slipping down through the length of my hair until it falls away entirely. He doesn’t let go of my arm, keeping it pinned against my back, but he lets up enough that it no longer aches.

“Our eyes have been on Mercy Madness for several months,” Killian continues. “She has become disengaged from our community; she’s indignant and self-righteous. And this last purge was the culmination of her dissension. We’ve known peace in Ember Glen for many years, and we owe that peace to our nights of release. Praise God for the insight he’s granted us over how to be a worthy community—a community of godly men and women who know their roles and fulfill them with grace. We cannot allow one ungodly servant to threaten the peace we’ve worked so hard to maintain.

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