Page 21

Chapter 21

AIRLIE

D rip.

Drip.

Drip

My blood trickles to the floor in slow succession, the drops a subtle echo in this cold, unfamiliar room. Candlelight quivers on the walls, a pirouette of amber and warmth, though my heartbeat is the only proof of life. A slow, quiet thump pulsating in my ears.

I don’t know how long I’ve been like this.

When that man took me from Ezekiel and handed me over to Father, it was like time itself had stood still. In other ways, it feels like I’ve been lying like this forever.

I don’t know what Father has in store for me, but if my current position is anything to go on, I know it can’t be good.

I squeeze my eyes shut and choke back a sob.

I don’t want to cry anymore.

My tears only encourage Father, and I just want to forget.

I wish that my mind would take me away from here and free me from this horrible place, but no matter how hard I try, I cannot escape like I used to.

I have never feared death before.

In a life filled with uncertainty, death was always the one thing I could be sure of. The only promise ever made that I could guarantee would not be broken. The promise that there would be a time when darkness would come to greet me, and coax me into shadowed paradise where my soul would live an eternal life.

Only in death would I see my mother again.

But right now, as my blood spills from the rusted nails hammered into my outstretched hands and the cross that lay beneath my tired, broken, and naked body, I’m not so sure that death can hear me.

Or if God even exists.

Because I have begged death to take me, but it has not come.

I have begged God to help me, but He has not listened.

I don’t think He ever did.

I fear that Ezekiel might have been right about that, which is what hurts the most. Knowing that in death, the sure thing I spent my whole life believing in, I may never find peace.

A creaking sound fills the air as the wooden door on the opposite side of the room opens, closing a few beats later with a loud slam.

I don’t dare look to see who it is.

Footsteps float around me, though I keep my eyes closed. If I open them, they’ll see my tears, and I refuse to give them what they want.

The smell of frankincense and candle wax burns my nostrils, but it’s the blood, so much blood, that makes me feel sick. Breathy murmurs and chants bounce off the walls, and my tired heartbeat picks up.

My body is weak.

My head feels like it’s floating, and my hands and feet burn from the nails that Father Grimsby hammered into my flesh. My bones scream with each accidental flex as the thick, rusted nails stretch and pull at them.

I shouldn’t have tried to fight them off me.

If I had kept still, maybe it wouldn’t have hurt so much.

“O Precious Lord, accept the blood of the chosen, whose soul stains this earth, her lifeless womb rendering us all in great despair. We lay this offering across your sacred earth as the Lamb was slain once before. In the name of the Holy Father, we pray for your forgiveness for our failures and beg you to wash us clean of our sins with your blood.”

Promises impersonating prayers are chanted in unison as the bodies swarm closer to where I lie. I don’t know how many people there are, but I know that it’s more than I’ve ever seen in one room before.

Don’t look.

If I open my eyes, they won’t be a figment of my imagination, and I desperately want them to be. I refuse to see their faces gawking at my body because if they’re anything like Father, they’ll be salivating over me like I am their next meal.

Given the nature of their prayer, I might be.

I’ve always known that deep down, Father wasn’t a good man, but whatever spell he had me under for all those years has broken, and thanks to Ezekiel, I am seeing things a lot clearer now.

I owe everything to him.

He encouraged me to open my mind to new possibilities, and in doing so, I learned that this was all just a game to Father. And I repaid Ezekiel by keeping him chained up in that cave, abandoning him when he needed me the most, leaving him defenseless against Ursa.

I hope that one day, he can forgive me for leaving. I was afraid that they would hurt him if I didn’t go willingly. I hope he gets away like he planned to and finds the happiness he deserves.

I hope he takes my spiders.

Silent tears slide down my cheeks, forming wet pools in my ears at the thought of never seeing them again.

Ezekiel.

My spiders.

I inwardly curse my body for reacting to these feelings because these people, whoever they are, do not deserve to know that part of me.

My pain is not theirs to revel in.

Don’t open your eyes, Airlie. Keep them closed.

You will be okay.

It will be okay.

I can feel their gaze on me, and the tiny hairs all over my body prick with awareness as their eyes, like daggers, pierce through my exposed, bloodied skin. The invisible spiders I’ve come to know begin their dance within my chest, making breathing even harder.

“ In turn, life will be born, and may we find justice in the flesh that remains of her lifeless body.”

This is it.

This is where I die.

Don’t look, Airlie. You’re okay.

Deep down, I always knew that my life would end at the hands of Father.

Silent tears fall uncontrollably now, though I don’t try to fight them this time. My lips tilt into a smile as I recall the last time I was happy.

I was happy with Ezekiel.

I never got to say how honored I am to have met him. Or how grateful I am to have experienced what real love feels like before leaving this world. Because of Ezekiel, I get to die knowing I meant something to someone, that I was more than a phantom locked behind stone, gazing out at the sea that nobody knew existed.

Because of him, I will die knowing that in my final, happy moments, I was someone worth saving, that my life was worth fighting for.

That I wasn’t alone anymore.

And for that, I truly love him.

My mother told me once that love cannot be measured in any amount of time. She said that sometimes, our hearts decide who they belong to in one big conversation with fate, and we just have to play catchup.

That’s how it felt with Ezekiel. I loved him before I ever really knew him and learned who I was along the way.

“We surrender her troubled soul unto you, in dark communion, and in your house, we will dwell forever, in the name of the Holy Lord our Saviour.”

My sobs are louder now. My body is unmoving as fingers start gliding over my blood-covered skin, from the nails pinning me to this cross.

Don’t look, Airlie. You’re okay.

I will see him again, somewhere in the in-between, beneath the water and stone. I will wait for him there—the place where I first saw him, tangled within shadows.

Yes. That’s where I’ll be.

Tangled in shadows.

Until we meet again.