Page 32 of Spark of Madness

I’ve never been inside the Homestead before…none of the villagers or servants have. It belongs to the members of the Control and to no one else.

I spin to see all of them surrounding me. Seven towering men in their fine clothes and pretentious expressions bringing me to judgment of my so-called sins. As I turn, the tiled floor beneath my feet catches my gaze. I’m standing on the center of a golden sun with seven swooping arms reaching out to form its halo—seven arms, and one man standing at the point where each ends. A lump rises in my throat and I swallow, feeling tension pull through my shoulders.

I open my mouth to speak, but to say what, I don’t know. But their madness descends without warning, and any words I might’ve spoken are shoved aside by the forceful protest of my scream. All at once, they close in, my cage collapsing. Hands fall on me, grabbing my wrists, sweeping my legs out from under me, bringing me down to the ground. I thrash and fight at their team effort to push me down, but there are seven of them and the fight is no use. Quickly, they have me on my back, and it’s a flurry of men above me, beside me, all around me.

“Turn her over,” Killian commands, and there isn’t an inch of my body that isn’t being touched by someone.

I scream, thrashing and twisting violently as they work to flip me. I don’t know what they intend to do to me, but it isn’t hard to imagine what horrible things they might do while I’m pinned face-down on the floor with seven men controlling me.

“Mercy, stop,” I hear Theo say, and the sound of his voice startles me.

I glance over at him as his hand slips behind my head and grabs hold of the back of my neck. I don’t know why it hurts me that he’s part of this, because he’s always been part of this. He’s always been one of the Control. I just sometimes thought that he was my friend, too. Maybe that stopped when he chose to leave me and chase after Delle into the forest.

The overwhelming fear and heartache over what’s happening to me brings tears to my eyes, and the trail down my cheeks triggers a resigned sob. My body relents in its fight and allows them to turn me, pressing me down into the hard floor, my black skirt spread across the sunburst tile like a dark spot on the sun.

I feel someone climb over my back, their knees straddling my waist. Then I feel the touch of leather kiss my skin, and I instantly know it’s Arlo brushing his gloved fingers across the side of my neck. I go still, my breath held at his touch.

“Hold still,” Arlo says as he pulls my hair back, brushing it aside and exposing the back of my neck. “We need to mark you for the trials. If you just hold still, it will only hurt briefly.”

I’m a strong woman, but I have no strength in this moment. I’m subdued entirely, overpowered and overwhelmed. I don’t even flinch at the news of pain and being marked. I just want them to get this over with—whatever this is.

I hold still, breathing heavily through several beats, doing my best to quell the waves of tears that threaten behind a sob. I feel Arlo’s leather-covered fingertip trace a spot at the base of my neck.

“Here?” he questions.

“Yes, right there at the back of her neck,” I hear Killian respond.

The leather leaves and it’s replaced by a metal tip, and then a sharp slice sears pain across my skin. I yelp at the unexpected burn of it—a knife slicing a quick straight line at the base of my neck.

“Don’t move,” Arlo commands, and I’m obliged to listen as sadness overwhelms me.

He stands, the weight of him leaving my body, but it’s quickly replaced by someone else. I feel the knife tip dig into my skin a second time, then slice sharply, drawing a short line of fire beside the first cut.

I cry as I feel the warmth of my blood pooling and dripping from the cuts. I let the tears fall freely as the second body leaves me, and another replaces him, as another slice sears my skin…then another, and another. The seven take their turn drawing bloody lines at the base of my neck, and once the seventh is etched on my skin, it’s over.

They let go of me, and nearly all at once move back to their points around the starburst, leaving me in the center of the burning sun. Gasping and breathless, my body curls protectively around its center, though my palms stay pressed flat to the tile.

“There’s no need to fear us, Mercy,” I hear Killian say. “You won’t be harmed in this house now that you’re marked. As a trial participant, you’re granted the privilege of living as one of us until your time is…over.”

Until I’mdead.

I hear Ryker chuckle. “Last rites for a sinner.”

“Your warden will make sure you have what you need during your time here, however long that may be.”

I push through my palms and slowly lift myself. “How long?” I ask, my voice coming out unexpectedly hoarse, low, shaken.

“The first trial will take place in a little less than a month.”

One month.

Goosebumps prickle along my forearms as I bring myself to a sitting position, my gaze fixed on the floor.

“Come with me, sinner.” Arlo’s smooth voice touches my ears and I feel the sound vibrate through my spine. “I’ll show you to your room so you can dress in something more appropriate for your new status.”

I scoff at his words as I bravely, but slowly push to my feet. I turn to face Arlo and see his outstretched hand once again—still covered by the black gloves I’m coming to despise.

Arlo’s pointed gaze holds my attention, his straight expression steady and severe. “Take my hand,” he implores, “and come with me.”

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