Deep Redemption (Hades Hangmen Book 4) (11 page)

She was touching me without fear or reluctance. . . it felt . . .
good
.

“Rider,” Harmony said quietly. “I see such agony in your eyes that I feel it all the way down to my soul.”

My heart tore at the sadness in her voice. My throat clogged at her compassion.
This is what this feels like
, I thought. This is what affection was—unbarred, unforced . . . natural. No coercion. No panic. Just freely given.

Harmony’s fingers twitched. She swallowed hard, then began to stroke the back of my hand. It soothed a fire I hadn’t realized flared in my heart. She was silent as she brushed her fingertips along my broken skin. I tried to breathe, but her touch stole all the air from my lungs.

“Tell me,” Harmony whispered. I closed my eyes at the sound of her gentle voice. “Tell me what is wrong. What plagues you?”

What I wanted to confess was on the tip of my tongue. But when I opened my mouth, my soul spoke instead. “I’m lonely,” I said, brokenly. “I’m so damn lonely that I can barely breathe.”

I opened my eyes to see Harmony’s deep brown ones shining with tears. “Rider,” she hushed out. Her fingers stopped stroking my skin. Instead her hand slipped under mine, and her fingers threaded through my fingers. She gripped them tight. She didn’t say a word, but I understood . . . she was here for me.

She was
with
me in my pain.

I stared into her eyes, and she stared into mine. No words were spoken, but they didn’t need to be. Words were useless right now. Our silent touch gave me more peace than I had ever felt in my entire life.

A single sweet touch took away the hurt . . . just for one cherished moment.

Suddenly, I heard a gasp from the doorway. In a flash, I had released Harmony’s hand and rushed to sit up straight. I turned my head to see who had entered my cell, and my eyes clashed with Phebe’s. She stayed frozen, eyes wide as she glanced down to the brick-less gap in the wall.

The water basin in her hands shook. “Phebe,” I whispered, moving away from the wall.

The blood drained from Phebe’s face, but she managed to pull herself together and close the door of my cell. She ducked her eyes and walked slowly toward me. She placed the basin on the floor, keeping her head down. She dipped the rag into the water, picked up my arm and began washing the blood from my skin. She never once lifted her head.

My heart raced. She had seen me holding hands with Harmony.

I couldn’t let Phebe tell Judah. I couldn’t let her tell the guards. I wouldn’t let them take Harmony from the cell beside mine. I wanted her here . . . I needed her here.

As Phebe moved to wash my other arm, I flipped my hand and gently took hold of her wrist. The touch was soft, but Phebe jumped as though I had just slapped her across her face. I frowned as she tried to pull away.

I kept hold.

“Phebe,” I said quietly, my eye drifting to the door. She was beginning to panic. I didn’t want the guards to hear her. “Phebe,” I tried again. “Please . . . I won’t hurt you.”

At my words, Phebe seemed to come back from whatever nightmare she had drifted to in her mind. Her head was still turned away from mine as she tried to control her breathing. I gently pulled on her wrist. Her body grew stiff. Confusion and concern fogged my mind. Phebe was not herself. Not at all. She was drawn in and flinching at my every touch.

I wondered what Judah had told her about me to warrant this kind of response. Deciding to find out, I leaned forward and lifted my free hand to place my fingers under her chin. Phebe’s breath caught in her throat. She was a deer caught in the headlights. As gently as I could, I turned her face toward mine. She tried to resist at first, but then finally submitted.

Just like every woman in the commune would naturally do.

My eyes widened in shock. Her face was heavily beaten, her pale skin awash with black and blue. Fading yellow bruises laid the canvas for more recent cuts and wounds. Phebe kept her blue eyes facing down to the ground.

“Phebe, look at me,” I ordered. Her shoulders sagged in defeat, and she looked up at my face. Tears tracked down her marred skin. “Who did this to you?”

Phebe’s gaze dropped once more, but I tilted her chin up higher. “Tell me,” I insisted. Phebe closed her eyes, her bottom lip quivering with emotion. When her lids opened again, she stared right at me.

“Prophet Cain,” she said softly and my stomach flipped over. I opened my mouth, to ask her to confirm that my brother had done this, when I realized that her voice had carried a strange inflection—she wasn’t answering my question at all . . . she was
addressing
me. She was letting me know that she
did
know who I was. She knew what Judah had done . . .

 . . . she
knew
.

I nodded, not wanting to speak in case Harmony was listening.

A small, relieved smile tugged on Phebe’s split lips. She pointed to my tattoos, hidden under blood and dirt. “It was confirmed by these, but I knew what he had done before that, because you are so different.” I glanced back to the gap in the wall. I turned back to Phebe, placing my finger over my lips. She nodded in understanding.

“Who did this to you?” I asked again.

Phebe picked up the discarded rag and dipped it into the water. As she cleaned me, she whispered, “The prophet pulled me from my duty as a sacred sister many weeks ago. In fact, he has pulled all of the women back who were recruiting in the outside world. He has grounded us all. We practice with guns like everyone else now. We are Rapture-focused.” She rinsed the dirt off the rag and brought it back to my chest. “At least, all of commune . . . but me.”

The pain in Phebe’s voice was evident. “You are no longer his consort at all?”

Phebe shook her head, keeping her focus on the job at hand. “Sarai did not want me there. The prophet does anything she asks of him.” Her hand stuttered on my skin. Phebe quickly righted herself, and said, “So he discarded me from his side.” She breathed deeply. “I was nothing more than a frivolous fancy for him anyway. I was skilled in seduction and sex; that is all I have ever done for this commune. I have outgrown my purpose.”

A tear from Phebe’s eye dropped onto my skin. “A man, from the outside world, came to stand at the prophet’s side. I do not know where he is from, but he stays close to the prophet, along with Brother Luke, Prophet Cain’s right-hand man. The new man has no hair, and is very strongly built. I heard whisperings when he arrived that he was supplying the guns that will be used in the oncoming holy war.” Phebe released the rag and pointed at my tattoos. I understood what she was saying. The man had tattoos. “Though they are different.”
From yours
, I silently filled in for her.

“He . . . he took an interest in me during one of the Lord’s Sharings I was made to attend.” Phebe’s face paled. “He has since claimed me as his. He . . . ” More tears fell from her eyes and she struggled to breathe. I reached out and held her arm. She flinched again, even though she knew that I was no threat. “He expects me to do certain things with him that I do not want. But the prophet has ordered me to stay with him. He said he is important, essential for the coming holy war. I do not know his name. He makes me call him
Meister
.” Phebe leaned forward and whispered, “Prophet Cain is planning an attack on the devil’s men.” Her blue eyes implored me to understand. “He wants to attack them, before they attack us. That is why the people are training so hard. We are to bring the wrath of God to their gates. Prophet Cain has received a revelation that we are to strike as soon as the order comes from God. We must be ready.”

It took me several seconds to understand what she meant. A cold trickle dripped down my spine as I tried to decipher her words. When I understood, that trickle turned into a goddamn flood. “The Hangmen,” I whispered. Phebe nodded her head.

Her hand was shaking. “He said they are to die.
All
of them—women and men alike. No mercies. He preaches that they are all sinners and defectors from the faith. He claims that the revelation he received ordered we are to leave no sinner alive.”

“He wants revenge.” I sighed in frustration. He wanted revenge for them taking the Curseds from us. For their attack on our old commune. For killing our uncle . . . for fucking breathing. I replayed what Phebe had said . . .
He said they are to die. All of them—women and men alike. They are all sinners and defectors from the faith . . .

Women and men alike . . .

He planned to kill Mae, Delilah and Magdalene too . . .

“My sister,” Phebe said almost inaudibly, tears building in her eyes. “He will kill her for her desertion from our order. For fornicating with evil. For the men he lost when the devil’s men came to take her back.”

My blood rushed so fast that my head became light. I tried to think of a way to stop it, to help, but I couldn’t. I was stuck in this fucking cell. I was always stuck in this motherfucking cell!

Phebe seemed to read my face. “It is hopeless, is it not? He cannot be stopped.” Her breathing hitched. “My Rebekah will die . . . ”

“You should run,” I said, so quietly that Harmony wouldn’t hear.

Phebe shook her head.

“Why?” I asked. “Get the hell out of this place somehow. Save yourself.”

She hesitated. “I . . . I need to protect someone. And the man that has me,
Meister.
” She shook her head. “He will never let me go. I can feel it. He . . . he has become obsessed with me.” Phebe’s tears ran thick and fast. “He scares me so much. It is over for me now.” Phebe finished off wiping my body. “I fear it is over for us all. Everything has changed since this prophet ascended. We can never go back . . .”

Guilt swarmed my stomach. Phebe gathered her things and stood. Just as she was about to leave, she turned back and whispered, “I once thought you the same as
him
. But now . . . ” Her shoulders dropped. “But now I see that you are not. You share different hearts and souls—one pure, one dark. It is just a shame that darkness always seems to prevail in this world.”

Phebe left the cell, the door slamming shut in her wake. I stayed still where I sat, stunned by her words. But the anger bubbling in my blood built higher and higher. Of late, it was the only emotion I seemed to feel. Pure fury at my twin and everything he was doing.

I returned to the wall. I lay down on my front and crawled to where I would see Harmony again. As soon as our eyes met, her hand pushed through the gap. My fingers wrapped around hers. I closed my eyes and let the solace of her touch calm the rage inside, just for a moment.

We lay in silence, but my head raced. What could I do? How could I stop this? I was still thinking hard when Harmony said, “Rider?”

“Yes?” I replied, opening my eyes.

She squeezed my hand tighter. “It may make me an eternal sinner, but one thought keeps occupying my mind. I keep praying for something that is savage and cruel . . . but I cannot stop.”

“What is it?” I asked in a rough voice.

Harmony took a deep breath. “I pray for death.” My muscles tensed. She wished to die? “For the prophet,” she quickly added, and I stilled. “I pray for Prophet Cain to die. I pray for our freedom from his enforced hurt and pain. And I think that could only happen if our leader died. If his cruel heart was no longer beating.”

I didn’t say anything in response. I didn’t say anything, because I fought with a greater internal war. A greater personal sin.

Because I was starting to pray for that too.

I was praying that Judah would be taken down.

I had started to pray that my own brother would die . . .

 . . . and if those thoughts could only come from a sinner’s heart, then a sinner I was.

Rider

A week went by. A groundhog day of daily beatings by the disciple guards—and no sign of Judah. The only light was having Harmony beside me. It amazed me how quickly I had come to need her, covet her. Her hand in mine as we talked became the only thing that kept me from giving up.

Each day, Phebe would come to my room. She didn’t speak to me again after her confession. She washed me as instructed, and each day I watched as she grew further and further from the girl I once knew. I watched helplessly as she closed in on herself. Each day brought with it new bruises. And each day she became less and less of the vibrant woman she had once been as the consort to my brother.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway pulled me from sleep. I pushed away from the wall, filling the gap with the loose stone brick. I always put the brick back in place when the guards came for me. If they thought I had been talking to Harmony, they would punish her.

I wouldn’t let that happen.

The guards opened the door and entered my cell. It had gotten to the point where I didn’t even look into their eyes as they led me away. I didn’t even look at their faces as they pulled me to my feet. We took the usual course, the guards dragging me from my cell, down the hallways and out onto the path. Once in the now-familiar building, to my surprise, I was led to the room where I had talked with Judah earlier in the week.

My heartbeat sped up as the guards opened the door and threw me to the center of the floor, before leaving the room.

I heard another door open. I knew who would be walking through. I squeezed my eyes shut, my hands balling into fists on the stone floor. I breathed in slow, controlled breaths as I tried to make peace with the fact that I would see my twin again. Instead, a pit formed in my stomach.

He was my brother, yet I hated him. I
hated
my only family.

I pictured Harmony’s stunning face in my mind. Over the past several days, something had faded in her too. The light she shone so bright was fading to a dull glow. I pictured Phebe. I pictured her bruised face, the devastation in her voice when she confessed what her life had become.

“Brother,” Judah’s voice sliced through the war in my mind. I raised my head to see Judah standing before me. He stood as he always did—dressed in a white tunic, perfectly groomed with his hair down and eyes bright. Not a fucking care in his warped world.

“Judah.”

His eyes narrowed at the use of his birth name, but he shrugged and crouched down before me. “I see your attitude is very much the same, brother.”

“What did you expect?”

The flash of sadness in Judah’s eyes made me feel a slither of sorrow. “I expected you to repent by now. I have been waiting anxiously, expectantly, for the guards from your cell to come and get me. I expected by now that you would have asked me to come to you, to tell me you had thought everything through and that you want to be by my side. As it should be. I hope for it still.”

Judah’s dark eyes implored me to say it, to speak those words and join him. I wanted to. I wanted so badly not to feel this pit of doubt and disgust in my stomach. I wanted to take his olive branch and accept. I wanted it so much, but I just . . .

“Why the guns?” I whispered. Judah’s head tilted to the side. “Why do our people practice shooting day and night? They are not all soldiers. The women and children are not meant for violence. Prophet David declared the women to be home-dwellers. They are to procreate and keep the men happy. Not to fight.”

Judah’s face grew stern. “We are
all
soldiers in God’s holy war, brother. No person from our flock is spared. To win the greatest war of all, we all need to fight. Women and children too.”

“Fight who?” I asked. I needed to hear the plan from his own mouth.

I had to be sure.

Judah’s eyes shone with a crazed light and a vicious smile spread on his lips. “The Hangmen, brother,” he informed me. His hand slipped to my shoulder and he squeezed me with excitement. “God has revealed a great plan of revenge for everything they have done to us.” He leaned in closer. “For everything you had to endure when you lived with them all those years. They are to be punished by our hands. All of them. We will take God’s wrath to their gates and destroy them in their own backyard.”

“When?”

“Soon . . . ” Judah said happily. “Soon. In such a short time I will have conquered our greatest enemy, brought our salvation through marriage to the Cursed, and we will ready to embrace the coming end of days.”

“Peacefully?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Until the next enemy comes. Until the devil sends more of his sinners. Every person in the outside world is our enemy, brother. If we must fight them all, then we will.”

And then I knew. I knew that Judah’s quest for power would trump everything that our faith taught. I knew he would never back down. There would never be peace while he was at the helm.

He could never be redeemed.

“I want you at the wedding, brother. I want you to watch me wed the Cursed whore, then cleanse her of her original sin in front of our people.”

Every cell in my body turned to a heavy block of ice. The wedding . . . Judah would marry Harmony then take her in front of the people to begin the celestial exorcism of her sin. He would fuck her publicly after they had wed. And knowing my brother, he would do it violently.

Harmony.
No!
It would kill her.

Judah leaned in further, awaiting my response. The sudden anger that had built up inside burst free. With a spurt of strength, I tackled Judah to the ground. My brother, no match for me in strength or skill, fell onto his back. I slammed my hand over his mouth to keep him quiet, wrapping the other hand around his neck. Judah struggled on the floor, thrashing beneath me. As I met his eyes, I saw pure fear and shock staring back at me.

Adrenaline surged through my veins. My hands shook with the enormity of what I was about to do. My hand tightened around Judah’s neck and I began to squeeze. Judah clawed at my arms, his nails raking at my flesh. But he had never fought before. My five years with the Hangmen had taught me how to fight. They had taught me how to kill. Efficiently and quickly.

Without mercy.

“
No
,” Judah mouthed as I pushed hard on his throat, watching his skin begin to mottle with red. His body was becoming starved of oxygen. I told myself to look away from Judah’s eyes. I knew I had to make the kill, but as Judah’s gaze locked on mine, I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

“
No
,” Judah whispered again, his lips turning blue. “
Brother
 . . . ” he begged, his eyes watering. As the tears built in Judah’s eyes, each one felt like a dagger piercing my chest. My determination to kill him, to actually see this through, began to wane as our lives flashed before my eyes. Judah laughing beside me as we grew up alone, just him and me. Judah always by my side as I struggled with understanding the scriptures. His open arms greeting me, when I fled from the Hangmen. He had asked no questions of me. Had no doubts in me . . . he was my little brother . . . he was all I had . . .

“Why?” I rasped, as hot tears built in my eyes, scalding my cheeks when they fell. “Why did you have to fuck all this up for us?”

Judah tried to shake his head to explain. My hand was an iron vise around his neck. Judah’s nails struck harder into my flesh as I growled, “You were meant to stand by my side, even
if I
fucked up. You swore you would always be with me, that you would always support me. Why the fuck did you have to turn on me? Why the fuck did you have to have so much venom in your heart that you would destroy our people and our faith in your quest for blood?”

My eyes bored into his. Judah scrunched his eyes shut. I watched his mouth as he tried to communicate. When he did, it broke my heart in two. “I am . . . sorry . . .
brother
 . . . ” he said, opening his eyes. “I am sorry I failed you . . .
Cain
 . . . I . . .
I love you
 . . . ”

A roar ripped from my throat and my hands fell from around his neck. He was my brother. He was my fucking
brother!
“I can’t,” I said as I slumped back onto my legs. “You’re all I have. I can’t . . . ”

Judah coughed and sputtered, his starved lungs sucking in breath after breath of much-needed air. Looking back at me over his shoulder, he scurried to the steps that led to the raised part of the room. I waited for him to speak. I held out my hand, willing him to take it.

I wanted him to communicate with me, to tell me he’d listen to what I had to say. Instead, my heart fell when he shouted, “Guards!
GUARDS!
”

Three guards came bursting into the room. They ran to Judah and helped him to his feet. Judah pointed at me. “Take him away and punish him.” Judah cleared his husky throat, rubbing at his already bruising neck. “He just tried to kill me. He just tried to murder your prophet!”

The disciple guards whipped around to face me, a savage rage on their bearded faces. I didn’t even react. I knew what my fate was. They would kill me. I almost laughed at the irony. I had tried to kill Judah, but I couldn’t. Despite his flaws, in the end, I loved him too much. He was my
brother
, my
twin
 . . . my best and only friend.

I couldn’t end his life.

He clearly had no such loyalty to me. I could see that as he glared down at me on the floor, a small victorious smirk etched on his lips. His triumph over me. His power of me. I let my body drag as the guards launched me to my feet. I kept my eyes on Judah until we reached the door.

“Brother,” I heard, just as we were about to exit. The guards spun me around so I was looking up at Judah, standing in the center of the highest step. “This is why you would never have been able to do this, to lead our people. When push came to shove, you could not see this killing through, even though you felt it right to do so. You
feel
too much. You always have. You have a conflicted conscience in a damned and evil world.” He let his hand fall to his side. “In the end, your good heart was your demise. You are a weight that I have carried for years. A weight, today, I gladly will rid myself of. Good hearts, brother, have no place when leading people on the right path. They only stand in your way.”

As the guards dragged me to the punishment room, as they strung me up like Jesus on the cross, as they beat my body until I was sure I would soon be dead, all I could think was that Judah was wrong.

Hung up on this wooden cross, dying slowly with every punch to my ribs, chest and stomach, I felt no light in my heart. I only felt darkness consuming my soul. I only felt hatred forcing my heart to keep beating.

I felt evil flood my veins. And for once, I didn’t try to resist it. I embraced it. Gone was Prophet Cain; in his place, was a devil reborn.

One that bore no resemblance to the man before.