by Juniper Hart
He flopped unceremoniously onto the bed and closed his eyes, not bothering to undo his tie. The events of the past two weeks had taken their toll, and he needed a good night’s sleep.
But as the rest he so desperately craved began to overtake his body, Orion’s heart began to thump wildly.
Grace’s sweet, terrified face popped unbidden into his mind.
What could she possibly be afraid of? She’s a Lycan among mortals.
Without warning, the screaming filled his head again.
7
“What did he say to you?”
Father yanked Grace into his suite as she stole up the stairs and into the west wing. She had hoped that she would escape to her room undisturbed, but in her heart, she knew the probability of that happening was slim.
Of course he was watching for me. He was just waiting for his opportunity to get me alone.
If Father hadn’t caught her in the hallway, he would have just let himself into her suite. One way or another, he would have found her.
“They didn’t ask much,” she replied quickly, shaking her head. “He asked if I was the manager.”
“What did you say?”
“Yes.”
“Did you say anything else?”
Grace wracked her brain, trying to remember the conversation she’d had with the strangers.
It had been very difficult for her to concentrate on anything as they scrutinized her with far too much interest. She didn’t understand what they were doing there, despite Father’s explanation that he was testing them.
“We will have outsiders in our midst for a short time,” he had told them earlier that afternoon. “They have been sent to verify the strength of your faith, of your commitment to me. They are the devil’s minions, but you will be forced to look them in the face and speak kindly.”
The group had been shocked. Nothing like that had ever been brought before them, and they did not know how to react. Not even the most seasoned of them had heard of such a thing.
“How can we be expected to do that?” Camila whispered. “We have been told not to allow the devil into our home.”
“This is a test!” Father thundered. “If you are not strong enough, you will hide yourselves away. If you feel you will betray me, do not show your face for three nights and three days. But I know there are the strong among us. Grace will take them on face to face.”
She had been stunned.
“Me?” she whispered. “What am I to do?”
“I know you want to protect us, especially the youngest,” he had said smoothly, a smile on his face, and Grace had felt the hairs on her arms raise. “You will tend to the devil’s minions and keep them away from our sacred way. You will ensure they do not disrupt the purity of our community.”
“How will I do that?” she demanded, the thought filling her with terror.
Father’s smile broadened. “I will teach you how to speak to them, to placate their perversions and send them back to Hell, where they belong.”
“What if I can’t?” she whispered, feeling all the eyes on her. “What if I fail?”
Father shook his head gravely. “If you should fail, we will all suffer. Especially the youngest.”
His threat hit its intended target; the core of her heart. If Grace didn’t do what he asked, he would harm Harmony.
It had been a stunning few hours for revelations, and for the first time in all of her life, Grace could see what was happening around her with clear eyes. This was a cult, an abomination. Father brainwashed unsuspecting people and brought them into his fold to swindle them. All she knew for sure was that she had been born into the community, but Harmony hadn’t known any better.
“You won’t fail, will you Gracie?” Father purred.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Grace shook her head vehemently, shifting her eyes downward.
“No, Father,” she said. “I will do whatever it takes to drive the devil back.”
The group muttered appreciatively, bowing their heads in silent gratitude.
When the couple had arrived, they were not what Grace had been expecting. They did not seem evil in the slightest. Even the well-coifed secretary seemed kind, despite her overly efficient appearance. But the man’s eyes had exuded warmth and understanding.
The devil comes in many forms, Grace reminded herself. If Father says they are a test sent from Hell… Her thought trailed off as she stared into Father’s inky eyes. Why should she believe anything he said? The rebellious thoughts were coming to her with more anger and frequency, but she could not stop them from flowing forth. He is keeping Harmony from me, and I have no idea how she is doing. Has her fever broken? Has she eaten? Is her infection clear?
“How is Eve?” Grace countered. “Is she feeling better?”
“Answer my questions!” Father hissed, squeezing her arm. “What else did they say to you?”
“Nothing,” she insisted. Father’s eyes narrowed, and he stared at her suspiciously.
“You were downstairs for a long while.”
“Not any longer than necessary to give them their keys,” she protested. For some reason, she wanted to keep the interaction she’d had with the strangers between them.
He doesn’t need to know everything, she thought. If he is God, he should already know, right?
Father studied her face closely.
“Are you losing your faith, Grace?” he rasped.
“No,” she lied. “Of course not.”
“You think I am cruel to you. You think I am unnecessarily harsh with Eve, but we must test her. You used to understand that.”
“I understand still,” she murmured. In spite of herself, she responded to his touch. Once upon a time, he had been only tender with her, choosing her over the others to absolve their carnal sins with sexual cleansing.
“I think you have grown jealous of Eve. You are concerned that she will replace you in my life.”
The idea was strange to her. Was she jealous of Eve? Jealousy was a sin.
Confusion overcame her.
“You do not need to worry about that,” Father told her, his lips trailing over her throat. “You are my first wife, which makes you the most treasured. Eve can never replace you any more than Camila has.”
His free hand fumbled to undo the too tight jacket on her pantsuit, an outfit which Father had insisted she wear to greet the devil’s minions. It was uncomfortable, and Grace had no idea where it had come from, but she had not argued.
“You’re my best wife,” he cooed, his breath hot in her ear. “Don’t lose faith now, Grace,” he whispered, pulling his face back to stare at her. “Our life is just getting started.”
Grace averted her eyes downward, worried he might be able to read her innermost thoughts.
“Get some rest now,” he told her, abruptly pushing her away. “Tomorrow, you will have to watch over the devil’s minions again.”
Her head jerked up.
“Again?” she asked, biting on her lower lip. “Perhaps Camila can do it?”
Father scowled as he straightened his clothes, heading toward the door to open it. “Grace, you are the only one who is strong enough to drive them back and keep them from sullying our purity. There is no one else I trust.”
Grace slid toward the door, her mind beginning to race again.
“Have you visited with Eve today?” she asked, turning her bright green eyes toward him. “Is she all right?”
“Do not ask me about Eve again!” Father snarled, and for a moment, she was sure he was going to strike her. “If you do not focus all of your attention on the devil’s minions, we will be doomed. When they have gone back to the fiery pits of Hell where they belong, you will be reunited with your precious Eve.”
Grace thought she heard contempt in his voice. Was he jealous of Harmony?
It was a ridiculous question, yet one which surfaced in her mind regardless. Father acted like a child made to share his dessert whenever Eve’s name was brought up. Pe
rhaps he was the one who did not like sharing.
Perhaps he is angry that I love her more than I love him. The ideas were confusing and did not make sense to Grace. My mind is exhausted. I have had too much excitement for a day.
“You seem tired, Grace,” Father told her. “Return to your room and rest. I will ensure you are not disturbed for your matrimonial duties with the others while the outsiders are here.”
Grace nodded gratefully and walked across the threshold into the hallway. As an afterthought, she turned to Father.
“What are their names?” she asked curiously.
Father’s eyes seemed to light with fury, and he grabbed her by the throat.
“Their names are unimportant!” he hissed. “You do not wish to address them by their heathen titles!”
Grace’s eyes began to bug from her head, and Father dropped her to the floor.
“I’m sorry, Father,” she whispered. “You are right.”
“Of course I’m right!” he snapped. “It is my duty to protect my flock, but you make it difficult, Grace. Leave me now.”
She did not give him an opportunity to change his mind and rushed back to her room. She locked the door, knowing that there would be no nightly visits from any of the others, before dropping to her bed. She closed her eyes, resting her head against the flat pillow.
Who are the outsiders really? What do they want with us here? Again, her mind slipped to Harmony. Could they be here for her? Is that why Father didn’t want to discuss it?
The question which burned the hottest in her mind was why she had been the one entrusted to attend to them. He said she was the only one he trusted. Didn’t he trust himself? Why was he keeping himself away from the outsiders? Did he think himself weak? Was Father becoming unraveled?
Between the endless questions and her concern for Eve, Grace was unable to fall asleep for a long time. When she did, she dreamt of Harmony before she became Eve.
“Wake up, Grace! They’re looking for you!”
Her heart thumping, Grace sat up abruptly and realized half a dozen members were in her room, their eyes wide with panic.
“Who?” she demanded, jumping from the bed. “Who’s looking for me?”
“The outsiders!” Camila hissed, glancing back toward the door furtively. “They have been wandering the halls for an hour, calling out to anyone.”
Terrified, she scrounged around the room, looking for a dress.
“Here,” Father snapped, striding into the suite with a simple white sundress in his arms. It was unlike anything the women in the group were permitted to wear, low cut with slim straps on the shoulders.
Not that I would want to wear something like this… would I?
“Put this on quickly and get to them!”
Grace obliged and rushed into the hallway. As she approached the landing, she saw the couple wandering up from the lobby, but they had yet to see her.
“It’s not right,” the attractive assistant was saying. Even though she was not whispering, her tone was low, like she feared being overheard.
“Call Abram back here,” the man said, and for the first time, Grace realized how deep his voice was.
He sounds like a god would sound, she thought, immediately comparing his tone to Father’s.
Father’s voice is squeakier, especially when he’s angry. I imagine the voice of a god being more like this man’s.
“I want to know everything he knows.”
“Should we knock on guest room doors looking for someone?” the woman suggested. Grace’s heart leapt into her throat.
I can’t let them do that! she thought, panicked. It would cause chaos among the group. She had sworn to keep them from the others, after all. She cleared her throat quietly and began to walk toward where they stood near the front doors.
“Good morning!” the male called when he saw her, nudging his companion softly as if to silence her from speaking further. “We have been looking all over for you this morning.”
“Is there something you need?” Grace heard herself asking. Instinctively, her eyes traveled down the hallway toward the glass room, but she knew they were out of Eve’s view, if she could see them at all. She had no way of knowing if Eve was still in there. Father could have moved her.
“I thought we might get some breakfast together and have a chat, if you have finished your shift,” the man said.
Grace eyed him and then glanced at his companion. Are they married? she found herself wondering. There was something about the way they interacted which suggested a closeness, but she did not see any passion between them. Would strangers know that Father and I are married? Would they read any passion between us? Does Father exhibit passion between any of his wives?
“Marriage is a blessed union,” Father always said. “A woman must provide for her husband any way the man deems fit. A husband is to keep his wives clothed, fed, and fertilized.”
Grace’s inability to provide him with children had become a source of contention within the community, but Grace had always been grateful she had not had the burden of bearing children year after year like Camila, Leah, and Rachel.
What became of the children? a haunting voice called into her head. It was a question which she had buried a long time ago, and yet like so many others, it was resurfacing.
“Grace? Can we have a few minutes of your time?”
A flutter of panic gripped her, but she nodded. “Yes.”
“The restaurant is closed. Is there somewhere we can get breakfast?” the man asked. “A place nearby? Our car is standing by.”
Her eyes widened. Father will never agree to let me go somewhere with the devil’s minions.
“I… I can fix breakfast,” she breathed, turning toward the restaurant. She did not allow for protest as she hurried into the kitchen.
A moment later, she was joined by the couple, who watched her speculatively while she pulled items from the refrigerator.
“You do the cooking here?” the man asked, and Grace glanced at him.
“When need be.” She was consciously aware of their eyes following her every move, but she did not volunteer any information, waiting tersely for their wicked questions.
“How long have you worked here, Grace?” It was the woman who spoke, and Grace was uncomfortable having to answer.
“Many years,” she muttered. “Many, many years.”
“And how much staff does the hotel have?”
They were inquiries Father had not prepared her for, and Grace was terrified of answering improperly. Was he listening? Was he at the back stairs, judging her responses? She had no way of knowing.
“There is no staff,” she finally admitted, switching on the burners to the stove and placing frying pans atop the elements. “We live here and work equally.”
Their surprise was almost palpable, and Grace felt her pulse quicken.
Did I answer wrong?
“That is an interesting arrangement,” the man told her. “Who is this deal with? The owner, Mr. Stanger?”
Grace was sure she had never heard the name before.
“Father,” she muttered. “Father allows us to stay here.”
“Your father lives here, too? Where is he? I would like to meet him.” The man sat forward, his eyes shiny with interest.
Grace’s head jerked up, and she looked at him, her face twisting in indignation. I can’t let the devil’s minions near Father!
“No!” she cried. “You must stay back!” Confusion seemed to light their faces, and Grace whirled back toward the task at hand.
“Grace, who are the people who live here?”
“Mr. Tanner! Miss Luciano!” A man glided into the kitchen, and Grace’s heart stopped beating. It was another stranger, a man she had never seen in her life.
The devil has sent more minions? How am I expected to fend them off alone? Father, how could you leave me to this by myself? She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed silently for strength to overcome the challenge before her. God
will not give me anything I cannot manage, she told herself, choking down her panic.
“It’s Grace, isn’t it?” the newcomer said, approaching her slowly. “My name is Joe. Joe Abram.” Grace stared at him uncomprehendingly. “You can go now,” he told her softly. “I’ll talk to Mr. Tanner and Miss Luciano.”
Joe Abram. Mr. Tanner. Miss Luciano, Grace thought, stepping back from the man named Joe. They have names.
“I would rather Grace stay,” Mr. Tanner interjected, and Miss Luciano nodded in agreement.
“Yes,” the woman said. “We would like to learn more about the culture of the people living here.”
The bird-like man nodded understandingly. “I know, but as I explained to you earlier, the guests of Eden are rather reclusive. I’m afraid you’re causing Grace quite a bit of upset being here.”
Mr. Tanner gazed at her, his grey eyes a mix of compassion and consternation.
“Is that true, Grace?” he asked.
“She’s too polite to tell you,” Joe jumped in, saving Grace from having to answer. “But I am here because Mr. Stanger has received a number of calls from the guests complaining of the upheaval your arrival has caused.”
Grace pretended to busy herself at the stove, but she watched as Mr. Tanner’s irises flashed.
“With what phones?” he demanded.
“They have phones, Mr. Tanner,” Abram replied, glancing nervously around the room for an ally. His gaze settled back on Mr. Tanner’s ire.
“Then perhaps we should reconsider our deal,” Mr. Tanner snapped. “Because whatever is happening in this place is giving me the creeps.”
The dark-haired woman seemed surprised by his outburst, but Grace’s ears seemed to raise at the statement.
What deal? What does he sense here? She suddenly wanted to know what they were truly doing there. Father is lying to us. The outsiders are here for a purpose.
“I am not uncomfortable,” Grace said unexpectedly. “I am happy to stay.”