Page 45 of Spark of Madness

Mercy

ARLO DRAGSMEbehind him like a pet, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so furious. But the way he charges forward down the hall and into the foyer makes me think he feels the same way, though I can’t for the life of me figure out why.

I plant my feet when we reach the center of the foyer and stop on the starburst beneath the chandelier. I jerk back on my arms to stop him, and he halts and spins to face me. I’m ready to speak, to tell him what I really feel, but he beats me to the punch.

“What is it going to take to get you to understand your place in this life?”

Stepping forward, he invades my space in such a way that I’m forced to take a step back, but once I do, I refuse to take another, and I hold my stance.

“What life?” An honest question.

“Are you not concerned about the fate of your soul?”

I blink, my head tilted to the side. “There was a time when I was, but I’m no longer convinced I want salvation for my soul when the means to achieve it are so vile.”

His eyebrows shift and lower as he narrows his eyes, not in judgment, but in grave concern. “You’re lost. So lost, sweet Mercy.”

I swallow the weight of his words.

They’re true.

I am lost…I have been lost for so long, but it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m a sinner; I’m beyond redemption.

I shake my head lightly. “And what does it matter now? I’m damned in this life. What difference does it make if I’m damned in the next?”

He steps impossibly closer and I lean away, my back arching. His hand snakes around me, his palm splaying across the small of my back to hold me in place. “You don’t have to be damned in the next. Your soul can be redeemed. Yes, your fate in this life is sealed, but God will forgive you in the next life through your ultimate acts of service in the trials.”

My breaths quicken at the touch of his fingers on my back, at the way he holds my stare with intensity and sincerity. “Why do you even care?”

His forehead wrinkles and he huffs a heavy exhale through his nose. “Because I’m your warden. It’s my role to meet your needs, and that includes spiritual.”

I scoff, “None of my needs are being met.”

“You’re clean, you’re dressed, you’re fed. Please tell me which of your extravagant needs aren’t being met.”

“Peace, comfort, friendship, compassion...”

“Those are wants, not needs.” His finger twitches against my back, sending a jolt of electricity through my spine.

“I need them; Delle needs them. They can’t be met here, not in this manor, not in Ember Glen, not with our vicious doctrine—”

He tugs me tighter against him as his free hand slaps over my mouth, silencing me with leather. He turns his head, glancing around us. “Watch what you say.”

It doesn’t matter what I say.

Not anymore.

I’m alreadydoomed.

He spins me in his hold, turns us toward the staircase, and urges me forward. He releases me and I move immediately, climbing the staircase with stomping feet and swift steps. Jogging up the stairs, he quickly catches up with me, then lassos his arm around my side as he slows to match my pace.

He leans into me sideways and whispers, “I don’t care what your fate is, Mercy Madness, but you will not be blasphemous to our faith. I won’t allow it.”

His words freshen my fury. I twist and jerk myself from his hold, then charge quicker up the staircase. When I reach the landing, I stop, whipping around to face him. “I won’t be silenced any longer. If I’m meant to meet a torturous end, then so be it, but I will ensure the women of Ember Glen know the truth.”

He laughs as he steps onto the landing. Creeping toward me, he holds my gaze, even while his hand drifts forward to wrap around the dangling ends of the rope attached to my wrists. He continues to walk right past me, tugging on the ropes until my arms are tautly drawn in front of me, and I’m forced to walk to avoid stumbling.

He drags me behind him as he moves down the hall. “Truth is our way of life. Truth is the Impulse, the urge, the need of men to purge the worst of their humanity—”

---