Page 68 of Be My Sinner

The man’s face goes deathly pale before me, his dark brown eyes widening in horror at my promise of ending his daughter’s purity. “You know I am perfectly capable of it. You know you can’t stop me, either. A Mercier trumps a Chambly. You have very little power, whereas I have almost unlimited power.”

I watch as his Adam’s apple bobs, and he shakes himself, moving forward to disconnect the intravenous tubes from my hand. “You are a wicked man, Abraham. God save us all if you ever take your father’s place in the Brotherhood.”

I disregard his words; they don’t hurt me. I don’t give a shit about his opinion. Besides, he’s probably right. They will need saving from God, or whoever, if Ezekiel and I ever do manage to get control of the Brotherhood. I haven’t forgotten what they took from me, from us. I will burn them all down to the ground, and dance in the flames of their ashes.

Right now, though, I need to get my ass to a wedding. An explanation is due, and I mean to collect it. I just hope I don’t end up killing both of them when they confess their sins to me.

Chapter 34

The Forsaker

Zeke

Istandbeforethedark wooden pews with their deep red velvet cushions, all of them filled with members of the Brotherhood, and their loyal and obedient Sacred Wives. The cathedral is at capacity, the short notice of my nuptials to Dinah Camrose not stopping anyone from making an appearance. If they think it odd, the rushed wedding with no formal announcement, no one is willing to vocalize it.

No, no one here wants to start a war with the Rothesays. We are at the top of the proverbial food chain of the Order of the Brotherhood of the Sacrament. My eyes glance towards my father, holding court in the front pew, wearing an expensive black suit as if he were a true king. A smug smirk graces his lips, his emerald eyes shining. His white mask sits on his lap, and his black robes are embroidered in red silk thread, denoting his station surrounding him. The fucker is enjoying the attention being paid to him. There is nothing like a narcissist at a wedding ceremony, especially when it isn’t him getting married.

My mother sits next to him in a dark blue demure gown, also embroidered with red thread along her hemline and collar, denoting that she is a high-ranking Sacred Wife. Not that you couldn’t tell that from all the diamonds draping her, and the half mask that graces her face. All of the Sacred Wives in attendance wear them, as our laws require. Pretty white masks, bordered by gold and adorned with precious jewels.

Soon, my little Snow will be forced to wear one, too. How beautiful she will look with those fierce eyes staring back at me through the eyeholes, daring me to break her. No mask can ever hope to conceal her defiance, or her indomitable spirit. And I have no intention of breaking either. No, I want Dinah Camrose to always fight me, preferably while she’s underneath me, screaming and clawing like her life depends on it.It just might.

My focus returns to my mother and the scowl that she can’t seem to hide from her dark rose-painted lips. What is she even doing here, already sitting in the cathedral? Was she not supposed to be helping Dinah prepare to walk down the aisle to me? To become my prized possession? I hope for her fucking sake she hasn’t done anything to my Snow. I would hate to have to commit matricide, but I will if Dinah is in any way hurt.

My mother is the perfect contradiction. An obedient and demure Sacred Wife, the ideal example for other women of the Order at first appearance, but underneath that, there is nothing sacred or holy about her. She’s an opportunist, a viper, and two-faced. She enjoys the station she has achieved in life, and is determined that no one and nothing will stop her from rising even higher.

I think it’s one of the reasons that Sarah Mercier and Maria Camrose never enjoyed her company. No, Dinah and Abe’s moms are built a little differently. Their veins don’t run with venom.

The sound of bells chiming warns of the approach of the Holy Father, and the ceremony’s commencement echoes loudly through the room. Brotherhood members rush back to their seats like cockroaches running from the light, each wrapped in black robes and slipping on their masks. What a sight it is to stand at the front of the cathedral, and look down on all of them.Thieves, liars, and hypocrites.

Abraham would love this view. He would probably stand up here and give them all the finger, with a brilliant smile on his handsome face, regardless of the consequences. A trickle of unease rises up my spine, knowing he will be irrationally angry that he’s not present here today, to watch me complete this task.Irrationally angry? Who the fuck are you kidding? He has every right to be upset. He’s going to feel betrayed!

A flash of irritation soars through me at the direction of my thoughts. Yeah, he’s going to be angry, but would he be even more devastated and filled with rage if, when he came to, he found out that Dinah had been killed for her actions? I couldn’t take the chance. I had to take charge of the situation and ensure that she remained with us.

Safe. Owned.Mine.

After today, Dinah Camrose will become Dinah Rothesay. She will be mine under the laws of the Brotherhood and the church. Mine to do with as I please. No one will stop me from taking her or from claiming what is mine. What has always been mine. Not even Abraham Mercier, no matter my feelings for him.

The bells toll louder and in rapid succession, as the members of the Brotherhood rise to their feet. The large wooden doors of the narthex are opened wide by two guards, and the first few members of the Holy Father’s entourage are visible, their golden cloaks with deep black embroidery depicting holy scenes gracing their bodies.

Their faces are covered with the most exquisite black, gold, and white masks that cover half their faces and leave their chins and mouths visible. They move slowly forward, carrying the emblems of his office: the Holy Father’s banner, the symbol of the Order, his sword, and the sacred oils. Voices from above in the choir area ring out in chants that have all the hairs on my arms standing on end.

Then he appears, flanked by two little boys wearing the golden and white livery of the Holy Office. They walk before the Holy Father with their heads bowed in reflection, little white masks, with painted red cheeks over their faces, giving both a childlike appearance and somehow also looking sinister.That’s some fucked up shit right there.Thank fuck, Abe and I never had to serve as pages to the Holy Father. I could see us having nightmares for years if we had.

The Holy Father’s pristine white and gold robes seem to float into the room behind the boys, as if his feet aren’t touching the ground. The white is so bright and pure that it’s almost blinding. Golden thread brings beautiful depictions of the saints to life in the fabric, and priceless jewels accent the garment, which must weigh a substantial amount.

His head is covered in the hood of his cloak, his face obscured by his usual white and gold Venetian-style mask with the gold-dipped feathers making a halo around him. The only visible items that denote that he’s an actual human male are his eyes and hands.

As he moves past the pews, each row of Brotherhood members bows their heads. Their Sacred Wives fall to their knees in subjugation, like the good girls they are.I can’t wait to see my Snow on her knees for me. Will she show me such reverence?I might end up with a blade in my stomach instead of homage paid to me.My little Dinah is unpredictable with her violence.

It’s really quite a production that he’s putting on. He commands the type of respect by just being present that God himself would. Yet, I know for a fact, he isn’t as pious and pure as he appears. Those hands have caused blood to be shed throughout this world. Those blue eyes have seen countless miseries, and those lips have sent millions to their deaths. He is a hypocrite, just like every man in this room.No, worse, he is their leader.

The first of his entourage reaches the transept, where I stand and wait. I meet the dark brown bottomless eyes of the holy brother holding the sword, and his lips twitch in a smirk in my direction. I can sense a feeling of malice coming from him.

Who is he? Does he mean harm to me while I’m standing here defenseless before the Brotherhood?I wouldn’t put it past my father to have me killed right here, and blame it on the rebels. He’s an opportunist, after all.

As the two young boys approach, I lower my head in a bow of respect to the Holy Father. Respect, I don’t have, as I am no longer a believer, and this man is no more holy than I am. There is a hush amongst the members of the Brotherhood, the only sounds that of the choir above us chanting with young voices, and the swash of the Holy Father’s heavy robes making their way down the nave.

“Blessed be the son that makes his father glad on this day. May the Lord bless and praise you. The Brotherhood, honor you and keep you sacred.” The Holy Father’s voice rings out as his robes touch the front of my shoes. I keep my head lowered in respect and utter the words required of me, and every member of the Brotherhood. My chest feels tight with his mere presence, and my hands have become clammy.What the fuck is happening to me? I don’t believe in this shit.

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