Away From the Dark (The Light #2)(77)

My eyes darted to Leah, who was still wearing only her panties. She’d never been told to dress. Even with her face down, I saw her cheeks glisten as new tears descended and her body trembled. However, instead of covering herself, she had her hands at her sides, like everyone else.

“Stand,” he commanded.

We all simultaneously did as Dylan said.

“Sister, put your dress back on.”

Through veiled lids I peered in Dylan’s direction. Unlike Brother Mark, who’d scanned me up and down when I was in front of him in only my panties, Dylan had his back to us. I quickly moved my eyes back to the floor as he turned back toward us.

“Sister Sara, come with me.”

I swallowed and, while keeping my eyes down, I walked toward him. With each step my heart beat faster than it had before. My palms moistened, and I fought the sense that the world would tilt.

Silently he motioned for me to go up the stairs first. Nodding, I stepped past him. As I did, he touched the small of my back.

Wincing, I flinched. Though I bit my lip before I said anything, undoubtedly he was able to see the blood that had seeped through my dress.

“Fuck,” he murmured, removing his hand.





CHAPTER 29


Sara


Step by step, as I ascended the stairs in front of Dylan, I contemplated what I’d say, what I’d do. Standing before him with Jacob at my side had been difficult enough. Doing this alone would be nearly impossible. I tried to think rationally; however, the more absurd the situation became, the more determined the Stella part of me was to come forward.

The echo of Dylan’s hard-soled shoes alerted me that he was only a few steps behind me. I had no idea what the back of the dress looked like, but he was getting a good view. For some reason that made part of me happy. I was here because of him and he’d had the audacity to be upset with Jacob over a blackened eye that Jacob hadn’t even caused. Besides, the way the women downstairs reacted to him, they knew him. They feared him—I’d sensed it and wondered whether I should too.

I rationalized that it wasn’t so much that I should fear Dylan, but any man in this depraved house. This place was worse than the Northern Light, by far. My stomach twisted at the thought of the duties of the brides. Sister Leah was so young, as was Sister Salome. Not only would I call Father Gabriel crazy, but also he was practically a pedophile.

Each new bit of information about Father Gabriel made me more disgusted.

With each step I clung to the promise of the FBI. Surely enough time had passed. All that needed to happen was for Jacob to get a phone or for me to get free. Though I wondered what was going on at the Northern Light, I tried not to worry about Jacob. I reminded myself that he was an agent and had been doing this for a long time. I had to believe he’d survive—that we both would.

Passing through the door at the top of the stairs gave me the sensation of coming out of a black-and-white photo. Once again the world had color. The marble floor below my soft shoes glistened with golden flecks, while the walls glowed with a rich beige hue and shiny white ornate trim. Even the door was different, gray on the side of the basement, but pristine and white on the side in the house. I stepped to the side and waited, eyes down, for Dylan to emerge from behind me.

Except for the echo of Dylan’s footsteps, the mansion was silent as we made our way down the long hallway. Every few feet we passed white pillars supporting arches, and between the arches crystal light fixtures sparkled, sending prisms of color reflecting rainbows that danced upon the floor. When he stopped, I recognized the French doors with the beveled glass and bit my lip, praying that Father Gabriel wasn’t in here.

Opening one of the doors, Dylan gestured for me to enter.

Through the window the sky had darkened since the last time I’d been in the office. I wasn’t sure of the time, and while I was certain I’d missed a meal, Brother Mark’s whipping and Mariam’s speech had taken away my appetite. The pool in the distance caught my eye. In the middle of the darkness, its illuminated beauty reminded me of a tropical resort. Underwater lights changed its color, while around it the landscaping sparkled with tiny white lights. The mini-paradise appeared to be surrounded by nothingness. The tennis courts, outbuildings, and landing strip that I knew were there were all cloaked in darkness.

When my eyes settled on Father Gabriel’s desk, my heart fluttered. In an ordinary plastic container—the type to store leftover food—was Fred, swimming in circles, unsure of his new bowl. Lowering my chin, I sucked my lip between my teeth and worked to contain my smile. A simple blue betta fish should mean nothing to Sara.

Oh my God! This is hard!

I hated Dylan and, at the same time, remembered thinking I could love him. Even with all that had happened, he’d kept Fred. Refusing to look up, I stayed rooted to the soft red carpet as Dylan walked to the front edge of the desk. Crossing his arms, he casually leaned back and studied me. It was his detective look, the one where he assessed, analyzed, and silently stared. Finally his broad shoulders sagged as he sighed and ran his hands through his dark-blond hair.

“I brought you in here,” he began, “because it’s one of the few places in the house that isn’t under constant surveillance. There’re no cameras or microphones . . .”

My pulse raced.

“. . . Stel—Sara, will you please talk to me?”