Away From the Dark (The Light #2)(60)
“I thought of that. Father Gabriel supersedes your husband.”
How had I forgotten that?
I did my best to sound confident. “Don’t worry. I can do this.”
Jacob stood behind me and moved us in front of the mirror. For a split second, I had visions of seeing us for the first time in the bathroom of the pole barn. Now our faces were familiar.
With his arms around my waist and his chin on top of my head, he said, “Your bruise is getting lighter.”
Nodding, I grinned.
“You’re still beautiful.”
I lowered my eyes as my cheeks flushed.
“Sara, look up. I want you to know, I’m getting us out—away from The Light and away from the dark.”
Spinning in his arms, I brushed my lips over his. “Where does that leave?”
“The real world.”
“I trust you with my life. I have and I’ll continue to do it. I also want Father Gabriel stopped. If I didn’t before, after yesterday, I want him locked away forever. So, as much as I’d love to run, you’ve put too much time and energy into this. We’ll make it a few more days.” I had a thought and scrunched my forehead. “Do you think that’s the Kool-Aid plan—drugs?”
He nodded. “I do. Some kind of drug, more than likely ingestible. I don’t think even Father Gabriel could expect a thousand people to inject themselves.”
His lips met mine.
“I never planned on falling in love,” he confessed. “But I did. Do you know what I want, someday?”
I shook my head.
“To call you Stella McAlister.”
My cheeks rose. “Was that a proposal?”
“No.” His eyes sparkled. “You’re already my wife.”
The knock at the outer door shattered the warmth of his embrace as his arms stiffened. My heartbeat quickened as he whispered, “Only a few more days.”
I inhaled his cool aroma of shower gel and replied, “Yes, Jacob.”
Once again Brother Elijah was the one who came to get us. I’d forgotten to tell Jacob that I’d remembered Brother Elijah from before. I was certain he was the man who’d knocked on my car window when I’d been at the other buildings in the other neighborhood in Highland Heights. He had also been the parking lot attendant—my last memory.
This time I sat alone in the backseat, as Jacob sat in the front. Our ride didn’t last long, and I wondered why Father Gabriel had sent a car at all, because once the SUV left the gate, it was barely a minute before it entered another gate, the one for the main house. My stomach twisted as the gate I’d tried to see past nearly a year ago opened, revealing a tree-lined cobblestone driveway.
Bloomfield Hills was an older, prestigious neighborhood, and many of the mansions had been built by the auto-industry moguls of the past. As we approached the stately home, its exterior a combination of red brick and limestone, I got the sense of American nobility.
Once Brother Elijah parked, I waited until Jacob opened my door. As soon as he did, I read the panic in his eyes. He’d told me more than once that he’d never been invited to the house, and here we were, about to enter. I’d seen the back of the house and the limestone balcony from the outbuilding, but up close it was even more stunning, showcased by the landscaping and the fountain in the center of the driveway.
As we walked up the steps, the door opened. At first I wondered whether it was on a sensor, but then I saw the woman who had opened it. She stood silently beside the door, and though she was never acknowledged, the blue scarf around her neck caught my attention. Other than that small bit of color, her plainness made her invisible. She never looked up, but in a few seconds I took in her fair complexion and the way her dark hair was secured in a low bun. The way she stood statuesque wearing a knee-length white shapeless dress and soft flat slippers facilitated the illusion that she didn’t really exist.
As I entered the mansion, my senses on high alert, as if I were preparing for a story, I took in everything from the high two-story foyer with the domed ceiling and large chandelier to the mirrored set of curved staircases. With each step our shoes echoed against the opulent marble tile as Brother Elijah led us down a hallway. We came to a stop outside a set of French doors, their windows filled with thick ornate beveled glass, making it impossible to see inside.
As we stood, I tried to swallow, but couldn’t. My mouth was suddenly dry, a contrast to my palm in Jacob’s grasp, which slid against his, clammy with perspiration. Brother Elijah’s knock shattered the reverberating silence as the recurring rap of his knuckles ricocheted off the intricate woodwork and marble floors.
Without lifting my eyes, I knew who’d opened the door. The faded jeans and boots were my first clues; the way Jacob’s hand flinched, tightening his grip, was another.
“So nice of you to join us,” Dylan said condescendingly as he opened the door.
Together we stepped over the threshold onto incredibly soft carpet. It was deep red, the color of blood. I tried to push that thought away. Brother Elijah entered last and shut the door. When I glanced in his direction he was standing with his arms crossed over his large chest, blocking our only means of escape.
What the hell? Did he think we’d try to run away?
I turned away from the door in time to see Dylan sit in a chair beside Father Gabriel. They were both on the other side of Father Gabriel’s desk. From the way Dylan leaned back with his ankle resting on the opposite knee, I knew Jacob was right. Dylan and Father Gabriel were somehow connected. I’d never seen anyone appear as casual around the leader of The Light.