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Harlow

Three Years Ago

Holy Saints Church

T he circle of robed priests around me were spewing Bible verses at such a rapid rate it almost sounded like a foreign language. Then again, it could be Latin or tongues, I wouldn’t know the difference.

Part of me was considering putting on a show for them, blowing their minds by making them think that I truly was possessed. Maybe writhing around and babbling to freak them out?

This exorcism was just as much a joke as the rest of my life, but seeing as how I was tied to a chair, there wasn’t much I could do other than internally laugh at them and wish this was over.

If I lashed out, I’d be overpowered easily. I was an omega tied down with a group of older alphas and betas. It was not a position I enjoyed.

The thick ropes scratched at my tender wrists as I struggled against them, and I knew damn well my skin would be raw and bruised if I was ever released.

At the moment, my hopes weren’t high.

Being surrounded by four priests and a bishop did not bode well for me. Their scents were twisted with a strange mix of fear, anticipation, and righteous indignation. It left their already awful scents twisted and acrid.

They even set the scene to be like something out of a cheap horror film. We were in a dirt-floor basement with stone walls. The smell of dust and wet earth hung thick in the room, making me long for fresh air.

Candles were burning on every surface of the crude wooden tables that were pushed against the wall. The basement of the church was one I had a feeling I would be learning well.

My grandmother had finally snapped when i got my diagnosis. Most would've been relieved to have answers and a round of medication to help give me a normal life.

Not her.

The bishop stood at the front, his white hair wild and unruly, his eyes just as feral. He truly thought he was here for a battle between good and evil. His alpha presence was strong, broad shoulders and angry eyes focused on me.

Dumbass.

But a scary one.

If I could get the ropes off, I could knock him out and run, and put this entire place behind me. Live a new life.

I’d use their twisted image of me to scare them and truly go feral.

I could do it.

Maybe.

“Whatever you’re thinking, my little human, would be a bad idea,” Monty taunted from my peripheral as he prowled along with the shadows that loved to reside there. Dark tendrils of shadow twisted around his broad frame. He was built like a protective alpha and infused with shadows making him a sight to behold.

My imaginary friend had been around since the first hallucinations started happening. At first, he terrified me. I was barely a teen, and seeing fanged monsters that knew me better than I knew myself was more than a little unsettling.

Hence the fun nickname.

It made him less scary to me despite his looks. His glowing, blue eyes seemed to be burning with an otherworldly fire as he stared at me. He was human in shape, just much larger than your average man.

Swirling shadows covered his form, the only thing truly identifiable was his face. The shape of his skull-like face was a mix of human and bull, long horns coming out of his head.

With his cloak of black smoke, I couldn’t make out much more, but then again, I didn’t know that I wanted to.

His scent was like a storm. A hint of electricity in the air, a cold breeze, rain, and alpha spice. Just a breath of it and I felt less alone, less like I could freefall into my mind and never come out.

Despite what he looked like, Monty had been a sounding board and a voice of reason when I needed it. Depending on the situation, he could hype me up, talk me down, or reassure me I wasn’t alone… that I was his.

Now he was the only friend I had. Thanks to Grandma locking me away like some dirty little, crazy secret.

The moment she'd heard the diagnosis, she went all in on preaching that only God could save me. If not for my doctor taking me seriously, I’d think I was possessed, too.

I held onto that diagnosis like it could save me.

She’d used it like a weapon.

In the end, I’d have to save myself, somehow.

Who knows what she told the school, but no one had looked for me in the past two weeks of solitude. At first, she locked me away; when that didn’t miraculously fix me, she brought me here.

Monty flickered his shadow-clad hand toward me, forcing me to pay attention to him. A silent command to heed his words.

“But it would be so fun,” I pouted, speaking out loud to answer his question but not giving anything away to the men in front of me.

“You can’t fight them all, little human,” he countered as he stopped in front of me. “Do you want to be locked in a cell forever?”

“They wouldn’t,” I said. There was no conviction in it and now that the words were out there I couldn't help but panic.

Would they lock me in the depths of their church until they were positive I wasn’t possessed?

“Then just play the part of the good little girl and act normal. That’s the only way you’ll survive. You’ve done it before, Harlow.”

For once, his voice wasn’t taunting, but serious. The change put true fear in me.

What did he know that I didn’t?

My random conversation with a shadow they couldn’t see, sent the robed men into another furious round of verses.

They wielded crosses and holy water like they needed protection from me when it was the other way around.

I wasn’t safe with them and their outdated views. There were two strikes against me, I was an unmated omega and crazy. At least I didn’t do things by halves.

The group continued to preach and sprinkle their holy water around, making symbols with their hands that were supposed to rid me of evil.

Monty moved behind them, the shadows that I thought might be his fingers mimicking the movements so I had to fight back my laughter.

“They think I’m possessed. You’d think the church would learn the difference between possession and batshit crazy.” My joke cracked me up enough that my hysterical laughter silenced them all.

Monty was laughing with me now, the sound jagged and raspy. I wished they could hear it, too.

It was beautiful in a haunting way.

Once I’d gotten over the initial shock of my personal monster, I’d been drawn to him. I found myself wishing he was close when he was gone and calling to him when I needed him.

And he nearly always came.

When our laughter fell away I turned my words to the misguided men.

“Did dear old grandma tell you I was diagnosed? Schizoaffective, in fact. Hallucinations aren’t going to be prayed away, and as long as I can’t afford my own medication, it seems I need to make friends with the voices in my head, huh?”

The bishop froze and gaped at my words before turning to his colleagues. His voice was laced with an alpha’s bark.

“Is this true?” he asked the others. His voice was sharp and biting, holding an edge of worry. I let myself cling to the hope he’d put a stop to this.

A priest stumbled forward, ignoring his question and getting right in my face as if the bishop’s protests were unimportant. I guess his alpha designation let him ignore the man who was clearly his superior.

Stringy gray hair fell over his eyes, and I could smell wine on his breath.

Interesting.

The old man looked crazier than I did yet was judging me. Whatever he found on my face didn’t please him because he cocked his hand back and slapped me across the cheek. The slap echoed in the basement and I heard someone gasp behind us.

I was too stunned to speak or react, but Monty let out a feral growl that shook the walls.

Oddly enough, the terrifying sound helped to ground me. It chased away the pain and I focused on what he’d do now.

“We won’t listen to your wicked lies, demon. She’s just a child!”

“Actually, I’m sixteen, not a child. Not only are you all participating in an active kidnapping and holding me against my will, you’re listening to lies and abusing me,” I said calmly.

My lack of intensity seemed to shake the bishop further. Even so, he had yet to stop this madness. Monty was moving toward the priest who had hit me and I watched the man’s face pale at his presence alone. He knew there was evil here, he just didn’t know it wasn’t me he should fear.

“Don’t bother convincing them, little human. They’re not the type to be swayed,” Monty accused as he circled around the others, spreading the fear to the whole group.

When he was satisfied they were shaken, he moved back to the man who slapped me. I laughed mockingly, putting his focus on me as I watched the show.

Monty trailed a shadow-laced finger across the old man’s cheek.

The priest immediately put his hand over the spot, eyes wide as blood dripped down his cheek from my nightmare come to life. He was lucky Monty didn’t kill him where he stood.

My monster continued his walk, moving against the stone walls in a slow, purposeful pace. His claws scraped over them as he moved with an eerie screech. A cascade of dust and dirt fell to the ground and their eyes tracked the movement.

More than one man trembled like a scared child. Good. They should fear him. Especially if they hurt me.

I’d only seen Monty hurt someone for me once... and now that person, my father, was buried six feet under.

Where he fucking belonged. That was one death I celebrated. I hope he never got to rest in peace, just pieces.

The thought of my father had my breaths turning frantic. He’d abused me most of my life, but he took it to the next level when he sold me to his friend for gambling money.

The moment the money changed hands they'd signed their own death warrants. Monty wouldn't let that slide. Nor did he let that man touch me.

Murder-suicide is what they'd labeled it, but I knew it was nothing less than self-defense on my behalf. I’d watched as the entire thing unfolded with a sinister smile on my face.

If Monty had asked for my soul after that I’d have given it willingly.

“Demon! You will stop perversing this child!” another robed man accused, flipping the page and continuing his shouted bullshit while I rolled my eyes. Though, I was more than a little thankful he managed to pull me from that flashback before it could take hold of me completely.

“I’ll be back,” the bishop said as he bolted from the room, casting me one last look that showed every ounce of his worry and remorse.

He believed me and was likely going to question my grandmother.

Time was ticking now. He better hurry before they all died at the hands of the monster protecting me.

“The bishop thinks your grandma is lying about your possession, but the others don’t,” Monty informed me. He stopped in front of a robed priest, putting his shadowed hand on his head. “This one here has plans for you. Plans that might make me have to kill him anyway. That could be a fun way to end the night, filleting this man alive. Though, that might come back on you.”

“Aw, you love me,” I cooed at him before letting out another unhinged cackle.

Someone muttered something.

Bad idea.

Monty let out another growl, one that rumbled through the basement and gave every man pause. Even if they couldn’t see him, they sensed him, saw the room react at his touch, felt his presence lingering in the air.

“Untying me could also be fun,” I told Monty.

From the wide, fanged grin my imaginary friend sent my way, he heard me.

Instead of helping me, he simply disappeared, leaving me alone with my fate.

My head fell down as I let out a screech of frustration.

“You’re an asshole, Monty!”

That had the men breaking out of their terrified trance.

“Get the holy water! She’s brought an army!”

They were chanting faster now, and I spotted a silver dagger in one man’s hand. Fear pulsed through my veins at the sight of the weapon, and I fought against the restraints harder than ever. Now I was feral, screaming and fighting, pain be damned.

I refused to die down here. Not at their hands and certainly not for something I couldn’t fucking help.

Where the fuck are you, Monty?!

“Stop that,” my grandmother screamed into the chaos. I whipped my head to the side to see her standing next to the bishop, who didn’t look very happy. “This has to happen.”

For an omega she had an alpha’s commanding presence. The scent of rotten flowers joined the basement and I bit back a groan. Her scent was always vile but right now, in her anger, it was horrific.

As she stalked closer, with a thick, wooden cross clenched in a tight fist, and fury twisting her wrinkled face, I knew it wouldn’t only be a mentally taxing night, but a painful one, too.

If God really exists, he’s obviously not here with me now.

“Your mother was just as lost as you are, you know,” my grandmother ranted as I tried to finish the stale sandwich as quickly as possible and not choke to death. It was the first food I’d been given in two days. I was starving and weak from hunger and torment.

Monty was absent, the bishop had all but disappeared and left me at the hands of my sadistic grandmother and the unhinged priest, and I was barely hanging on by a thread.

It didn’t help that I was rarely allowed to get up from the chair I was tied to. If I hadn’t threatened to piss myself, they likely wouldn’t have let me up at all.

At this point, I was pretty sure my lungs were full of dust and holy water.

“The Lord is said to test you, and I’ve certainly faced my tests with you, Harlow.”

Her face was set in a sad, self-pitying look, but scents didn’t lie. Hers right now was bitter with judgment and hate.

“I’m sorry it’s so fucking hard for you to deal with my mental health,” I said, muttering sarcastically as I glared at her.

My filter was gone, thanks to the shit she and her crazy church had put me through. Her shrewd eyes narrowed on me, and she tried to figure out if I was being an asshole or truly sorry.

The smack of her cane on the table meant she figured out it was the former.

Before I could snatch my hand back, she slammed it down again, right on my knuckles this time.

I bit back a scream as blood seeped from my skin. She didn’t get to hear that she got to me.

What I never understood was how could she hate me this much? I swore she only had the cane to hit me with, she was agile for an old lady and walked just fine. Honestly, I knew that only a deal with the devil himself kept her alive.

She stepped away and put on a smile as someone walked through. They did that every so often as if keeping an eye on us without being obvious. She gave him a polite smile and bowed her head in greeting. When she was like this, she almost seemed normal, but the moment he was out of sight she was back to her usual. The woman was the epitome of school marm, with her long, floral dress, intensely tight bun, and permanent scowl.

I hated her more than I’d hated anyone else in my life. That was saying something. She ignored my glare and started walking again, going on a fresh rant, one I’d heard too often.

“There’s no such thing as bad mental health. Depression, bipolar, schizophrenia... it’s all just the devil trying to lead you astray from the Lord,” she scoffed. “You just didn’t pray hard enough, girl. Too lazy to give it a real try.”

“Yes, little human, pray harder,” Monty mocked my grandmother as he appeared on the table next to me. He leaned forward, shadow clad hands folded in front of him as if he were listening attentively. Smartass.

I should have been startled by him, but the familiar chill that always crept down my spine when he was near, told me he was coming. I breathed in his stormy scent with a deep breath, holding it in my lungs and absorbing the calm it always brought me.

He shifted again so he was sitting on the long table, watching us. His long, shadow-coated legs were tucked close to his chest and the fire within him burned bright as he stared straight into my soul. He was smaller now, something he did when the need arose, but no less imposing.

“Maybe I should have yelled scripture just a bit louder when you were praying the demons away,” I deadpanned as I ate the last bite and stood. Getting dizzy from the sudden movement, I had to brace myself before I fell again.

That set her off a second time. She snatched the plate I’d just ate from and threw it, shattering the china against the wall.

You’d think she’d have a bit more respect for the church and their possessions.

“Don’t you patronize me, Harlow, I’ll throw you out on your ass!” she shrieked loud enough her face turned a violent shade of red. The old bat was going to kill herself if she didn’t calm down. It would be poetic justice if that happened, but I wasn’t going to be that lucky.

No, legally she was my guardian and it was her or the streets.

Though, the streets had never seemed so inviting.

The bishop stepped in then, a priest standing next to him as he stared at my grandmother with more than a little suspicion now.

He was the one who had found out about my diagnosis and ran out during the exorcism. Whatever he’d done hadn’t stopped him from coming back, though. So, what was changing now? Were the seeds of doubt finally sprouting?

To her credit, my grandma stood tall and proud, unbothered by his gaze. I guess she didn’t fear his judgment, just that of her twisted version of God she had in her head.

“Father Lane, please take Gloria to the library to take a breath. I’ll take care of the girl,” he promised. His voice was pleasant but held an authority that had her clamping her mouth shut.

The priest nodded sharply before leading my grandmother away. Of course, she didn’t miss the opportunity to give me her usual warning glare, promising pain if I spoke ill of her.

“I didn’t do anything,” I argued weakly as the bishop just stared at me. He had an intimidating aura around him, and of all the clergy I’d met, he was above them all.

The man nodded once and I saw the pity in his gaze. It had my teeth grinding in annoyance. I fucking hated pity. It was a useless, lazy reaction at seeing something you knew was wrong but had no intention of fixing.

“Come, Harlow, let’s take a moment in my office,” he said, leading me up the stairs and down the hall.

I followed for now, unsure where this was going, but hoping this was the end to my torture. Honestly, I could run, I was no longer restrained, but the priests we passed in the hall kept my urge to run at bay.

Sure, I was faster, but I was easily outnumbered by alphas and would never make it to the door.

A petite woman who refused to make eye contact walked past as we entered. I nearly screamed as a shadowy figure loomed over her, smiling maniacally like he’d found his next snack.

It was like someone took a person and stretched them, their features blurred out like a painting someone poured water on. She was none the wiser, a clear indicator that the creature was only in my head.

“There’s hot chocolate waiting on your desk, Your Excellency.”

“Thank you.” He dismissed her with a wave and gestured to a chair across from him at the desk. Two cups of cocoa were waiting, like he’d had this planned all along.

Strange… but not the worst tactic to calm an omega. Hot chocolate was the epitome of cozy.

I also wasn’t about to fucking drink it.

To distract myself, I glanced around. Everything about the office screamed money. So much for the church giving back to the community. They clearly used it on themselves here.

The furniture was made from a polished dark wood, most of it easily weighing more than both of us combined. Every tome that lined his bookshelves looked older than Jesus himself.

He went to the fireplace and added another log before walking to his chair and taking a seat. His face was grim as he stared into the flames, his gray hair trimmed and tidy every other time I’d seen him was now disheveled. Like he’d run his fingers through it many times.

“Have some.” The mug was gently placed in front of me, and I was more than a little suspicious. “It’s safe, I promise.”

I didn’t bother to tell him that his words meant nothing to me. The scent was also rich and I was starving so I took a tentative sip of the rich drink. My stomach churned uneasily as he watched me over his own mug. Pale-green eyes studied me, and I shifted in my seat, putting my mug down and waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Let me be frank with you, Harlow. I did approve of this because of the information presented to me. Now I am not in agreement, and we will be evaluating your situation again. I am not so outdated that I discount the impact of mental health. With your background and previous trauma, it’s not at all surprising.”

My cheeks warmed at the mention of my past, knowing damn well he’d read every inch of my files, likely including my therapy notes. Those should have been confidential.

I shivered, but it was not from being cold and wet, thanks to the latest round of holy water. Instead, it was from how deeply he was trying to study me, to find cracks in my armor.

His frown deepened at my discomfort, and that threw me off more than anything.

Why was he being so nice? Did he feel guilt for putting me through all they did?

He’d sure as hell turned a blind eye for the last two days so it didn’t seem likely.

“Let me grab you a blanket, my child,” he said as he stood. The moment the door closed behind him, I knew this was my only chance. Trying not to let panic squeeze at my chest, I went to the first window, throwing the small statuette he had there off to the side and praying it opened.

Apparently, some god, somewhere, was listening. It opened with a creak of protest, and I only slammed my hand against the screen a few times before it fell into the bushes below.

Thank fuck his office was on the ground floor, or this would have gone very differently.

The moment my feet hit the grass, I started to run. My mind was so stressed that every turn presented a new and increasingly more terrifying hallucination to torment me.

This might be the moment my mind breaks for good.

But there was no way I’d skip over an opportunity like this, even if it meant running until I was eighteen and out of my grandmother’s clutches. I was fueled on desperation and refused to second guess myself.

The trip home was quick since the church was only a few blocks away, and I had my backpack on in seconds. There was nothing here that meant a damn thing to me, my life had been one shitty guardian after another.

If I lingered, my moment of freedom would be ripped away as ruthlessly as Grandma possibly could.

Luckily, I had made a grab bag months ago, the tension between my grandmother and me only rising as my mental state declined. I was leaving everything else behind except my emergency stash of cash I’d collected over the last few years.

Originally, I was waiting for eighteen, but it seemed the church and my grandmother changed my plans.

The lady at the bus depot didn’t ask questions as I bought my ticket. I just hoped I could hop buses before she got my description to the police I knew they’d all send. Maybe the Bishop and his conscience would give me a head start.

The bus smelled like sweat and gasoline as I made my way down the small aisle to an empty seat. I ignored the looks as I passed the other passengers. It felt like everyone was always watching me, but my therapist had always reassured me that wasn’t true.

Yet when I glanced up, I saw more than one gaze locked on me. Maybe it was a dirty, gaunt omega that had them curious, or they saw right through my calm facade.

Their attention made me curl in on myself, hating the way it felt to be watched. I was always the reject, the freak and knew that I was covered in grime from the failed exorcism and likely smelled terrible.

My body ached and all I wanted was to curl into a nest. Too bad I’d never had one.

Sliding into the window seat I hunched in on myself, angling my head to look out the window and not at them. The bus started moving, and I went into that bored happy place I’d learned to find. Thankfully, the roar of the engine lulled me into a quiet trance.

Even in the reflection I looked like a mess. My blonde hair was limp and oily, my green eyes dull and lined in dark circles. I needed sleep, food, and about ten fucking showers.

“Shit,” I cursed as a shadowed face appeared in the window, making me jump. I squeezed my eyes shut and whispered that same mantra I always did in my head, begging it to disappear.

You’re not real.

It’s just a hallucination.

The next time I opened my eyes, it was gone. The only thing I could see was the traffic in the next lane and buildings passing by.

No matter where this bus ride ended, I’d have to learn to live with these monsters.

There’s no medication on the street.