Page 4 of That Sik Luv

Through the water, an explosive humming fills my head as the deacon’s hands loosen their hold. A large streak of orange grows from the side of my vision, the color distorted, bent, and twisted in all the wrong ways beneath the waves above me. My passage into the next life?

Before I can assess the peculiar sights and sounds surrounding me, darkness consumes me, and the next thing I remember is seeing flashes of faces; Baret, who looks panicked beyond belief, Bishop Caldwell, who looks disturbed as he frantically passes us, directing the congregation, and Mia, who looks petrified above me.

They carry me through the now bright and flashing church. My vision focuses on the vaulted ceiling above me, studying the angelic cherubs painted beneath the peaks as we continue towards the wooden doors. A flicker of orange illuminates them further. Their eyes are all painted black. X’s over their once cherubic faces.

My body remains numb, taking in gleams of orange light as Baret holds me tightly to his chest. The thick smell of smoke fills my nostrils before the dark clouds return.

A storm of darkness, swallowing me whole.

Chapter three

Alliance

Miapacesbeforemeat the edge of my bed as I rub my knuckles over my eyes, blinking back the haze of being asleep. She grips her shoulder-length hair in golden clumps between her fingers, practically burning through the wooden floors with the back-and-forth friction.

“He destroyed your entire ceremony! The deacon was perplexed when the explosion hit. None of this is okay,” Baret declares with fire in his tone.

That’s what it must’ve been. Right? His reason for not paying attention to the girl fighting for her life beneath the water. The explosion stole his attention.

There was a definite fear I felt within the depths of my soul as that man held me beneath the water. An eerie feeling that’s now left me unsettled, sitting heavy in my stomach. Doubt plagues me for the first time, and I don’t want to believe it.

“We don’t know thathehad anything to do with this,“ Mia corrects him, playing devil’s advocate as she always does. “As far as we know,hewasn’t even there. Right?”

As they contemplate whether or not Saint started the fire in the church, disrupting the finality of my ceremony, my mind wraps around the thought of one person and one person alone.

Aero, whoever he is, had everything to do with it. But it’s the motive I can’t seem to understand.

“The Westwoods are still hosting the post-Induct party tonight,” Mia declares.

“Even though they refused to come?” Baret asks, sounding annoyed as ever. “Such bullshit.”

I sigh, listening to them go back and forth as they always do.

“Their family remains the top contributors to the church. They’re kind of allowed to do whatever they wish,” I add in.

Mia sighs. “Whatever. I’ll help you get ready.”

I narrow my eyes, frowning. “No. I’m not going to their party.”

“Actually, you are,” Baret corrects me. “And we are confronting this.”

Mia makes a pained face, clearly caught in the middle of this strange predicament. I stand from the bed and make my way to the window. My fingers run along the white-chipped paint of the sill as I peer out, seeing the sun now setting, the sky turning a beautiful shade of pink and purple swirls.

If I’m to be regarded as someone of worth within the church, I need to make my presence known. They need to know that Briony Strait will not cower away, but will face adversity head-on. Like a leader would.

“You know what?” I tap my fingers on the sill, determination straightening my posture. “You’re right,” I say, earning a surprised look from both of them. “I need to address this, and there’s only one way to do that.”

They look at each other before their eyes find mine.

“Well, I guess we’ll start with getting you into something that demands attention.”

I roll my eyes as hers light up, her eyebrows wiggling at my brother, who’s watching with apprehension.

Iswallowdownmyinternal fears, lifting my head high, as the three of us walk into the foyer of the Westwood Manor.

The place is what you’d expect of old money. Elevated ceilings, marble floors, paintings that cost more than most ordinary family homes. It’s extravagant, elegant, sophisticated, and only signifies why their family has the control they do over the church. Their contributions keep the place up and running. Of course, they govern decision-making processes.

Money is power, even in religion.

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