Sparrows & Sacrifice

by Nellie K Neves

  “It is a glorious day, is it not?” Cyrus’ voice boomed over the crowd of nearly sixty. “A day of rebirth and new life, of transformation and transition.”

  I had to get close to Tasha. It was my only chance to speak to her. Slipping from Harmony’s side, I moved to Fern and patted Moonlight on the head with a smile.

  “Sister Willow has been a valued member of our community since she first arrived.”

  I carefully picked my way toward Genesis without a single sound. She flashed a weak smile before all of her attention turned back to the matter at hand.

  “It is with heavy hearts that we let Willow go,” Cyrus continued, “but we know that she is destined for greatness.”

  Ten feet. I had only ten feet before I was at Tasha’s side.

  “The women may start the preparations.”

  His words signaled a flurry of activity. At least fifteen women stepped forward with flowers and ribbons in their hands. The mass movement gave me the distraction I needed to close the gap.

  Tasha didn’t look at me, but she tensed when I filled the space at her side. In the center, Harmony draped a pink ribbon around the curve in Willow’s neck. Fern pressed a crown of lupines, violets, and other wildflowers to her head. The flowers had long since begun to disappear. The care she must have taken to procure them spoke to her level of respect for her mother. A single tear slipped from her cheek and disappeared into the tangled weave of greens and purples.

  “There is a bittersweet sorrow in saying goodbye to our family, but as she leaves us to transition back to the outside world, we must remember the good times.”

  On cue, every head bowed but mine. My lips parted in surprise when even Ryder’s dropped forward. Cyrus spoke of the earth and its purpose, of life and gifts for mankind. The leader droned on about his fatherly role working to help the masses come to understand their true purpose. I wanted to laugh out loud at the ludicrous nature of the whole event, but the crowd revered his authority and bought into the charade. He continued by talking about Willow’s awakening and need to rejoin those she’d left. I was positive he made it up on the fly, and yet they all clenched their eyes tight as if the event was holy. Their blind obedience sickened me.

  Willow’s eyes popped open. Round and bewildered, as large as saucers, and afraid. She didn’t have to work to find me, one rebel in a sea of compliance. We couldn’t speak, not without retribution, but her strength spanned the distance between us. Her words echoed in my thoughts, “You could actually do it. You could take Cyrus down.”

  I had to. I had to end this insanity.

  Heads popped up and the chanting ceased. Two men stepped forward to apprehend Willow. Moonlight’s cries cut at me as Fern held her back so that she wouldn’t rush after her grandmother. Genesis cried as well. In fact, as I looked around, the only two without tears were Tasha and me.

  I had only seconds left. Closing the gap between us, I caught Tasha’s hand. The words had to be perfect, but I’d never been a poet.

  “Your father sent me. I’m going to get you out.” Her body tightened, but she didn’t turn around. To confirm her identity and my intent, I said, “Tasha.”

  Cyrus had started the caravan up the hill once more, trailing the men who escorted Willow from our presence. Tasha had no choice but to follow. Just beyond the first outcropping of cabins, she glanced once over her shoulder and our eyes met. I expected fear or distrust, but all I saw was hope.

  Chapter 27

  I obsessed for the next twenty-four hours over what it would take to get Tasha out of the house. We’d found her as promised. It was entirely possible to press the medallion and free myself, but there was more at stake. If I could take Cyrus and his regime down at the same time, then Harmony and Genesis, Fern and Moonlight could all have a chance at happiness in an equal society. After reflecting on our time together I knew I owed them at least that much. I continued to brood on the subject as I worked at Fern’s side in the garden. My nails had dirt embedded so deep I wondered if I would ever be able to clean them.

  After Eden’s Haven.

  Most of my daydreams started with that phrase.

  After Eden’s Haven, I’ll never garden again. After Eden’s Haven, I’ll take a one-hour shower, followed by a two-hour bubble bath. After Eden’s Haven, I’ll eat a twenty-four-ounce porterhouse steak with a side of lobster. After Eden’s Haven…

  Shots broke the absolute silence between Fern and I. I’d become accustomed to afternoon target practice and had even tuned my ear to hear the differences between the shots. It was a game, which shot for which gun. What used to frighten me had slowly become an exercise for my amusement.

  Fern fell forward on her palms as if she had been struck with one of the bullet. Her fists clenched the earth until her knuckles glowed white. Inhuman wails slivered free of her lungs and splintered the air around us. I searched her body for blood, for some sign that something had gone horribly wrong, but there was none, no wound to speak of. I ran my hand over her back, still searching for injury, but she dug her fingers into the dirt and propelled herself into a run, her face buried in her hands to hide the tears.

  Rocking back on my heels, I stared after her. The shots stopped. Normally, they went on for hours, but they’d ceased after six, maybe eight, shots total. I watched the trees and brush, waiting for the shots to start again, but not even the birds dared to break the silence.

  Deep from the trees, sounds of crashing, tumbling, and tearing through the underbrush caught my attention, like a wounded deer on the flight of its life. I spun, one knee still planted in the damp earth as I searched for the source. In the distance, a blur sped through the wilderness, and curiosity urged me forward.

  My shoes snagged every other step on rocks or twigs or slippery leaves. I caught myself by my fingertips or an open palm against rough bark. Still, I chased the runner, worried that some poor soul had stumbled into Eden’s Haven by accident and had barely escaped with their life.

  The sounds of flight ceased. I slowed my pace to watch for my target. Women were forbidden from entering the wilderness without their male escort. I was also forbidden from leaving the garden before my chores were finished. Forbidden meant one thing—punishable. It meant pain if the law was broken. Prudence prodded me to reverse course, and I would’ve if I hadn’t spotted him.

  He faced away from me, but I moved with caution. Though, by the way he held his temples and rocked forward and back, I doubted I would’ve alerted him. I knew his shape as I approached. I knew the scar on the back of his hand, the ruined copper cuff Uncle Shane had given him, and I knew the feather that peeked from inside his clenched fist. Over and over, his right fist pounded into his temple as if he could fight whatever plagued him. Turmoil and terror held him tighter than I’d ever dared. I had to free him from it.

  My fingertips reached out to him. “Ryder?”

  He exploded to his feet, arms swinging down, eyes red and bloodshot. I stumbled backward, landing on my rear against a fallen log. The bark scraped my lower back. I winced in pain, but scrambled to stand again.

  “Get away from me!” Hoarse and shredded, his voice sounded nothing like him. Ryder was gone. Pulled beneath the depths of the poison.

  “I was worried. I thought you might be hurt.”

  “Get out of here!” Veins in his temples swelled. Rage leaked from his skin. Blood on his hands. Blood on his clothes. Blood splattered across his cheeks. My inquisitive stare angered him. “Get out, or I’ll call for them. Don’t try me. If I yell, they’ll come.”

  I edged away, trying to keep space between us. Both of his hands clenched into tight fists, but they weren’t his. They belonged to his father, as did the rage. The poison fed a monster I never knew existed.

  My hands came up in defense. “I’ll go. I was just worried.”

  I took one step backward, maybe two, before he lunged at me. A tree blocked my escape. I braced for the pain. But before his fists broke me, he buckled at the knees and collapsed against me. His
cheek chilled my stomach through the fabric. Ryder’s arms wrapped around my center, barely enough strength left to cling to me as he shook with the memories of the trauma he’d endured.

  “You’ll never love me now. Not after this.”

  His voice vibrated against my skin as he burrowed into me like an inconsolable child. Unable to comprehend the circumstances, I stayed still, unmoving and steady against his turbulent storm. He’d always been my strength. I’d never seen him weak. Ryder had never wavered. Had he finally snapped like Gabe had warned me?

  I waited a full five minutes until Ryder’s trembling ceased. Dropping to my knees, I let him fall into my lap. My fingers traced the shape of his features. His muscles clenched and twitched as if my touch was painful, but no bruising caught my eye.

  “What happened?”

  Ryder’s body lay still. I feared he’d gone catatonic, until his voice, however weak it was, spoke.

  “They said I had to do it. I’m the newest and I had to do it, but I couldn’t do it. I can’t kill. I won’t kill.” His hand caught mine and pressed my open palm to his cheek as if it were an ice pack. “They forced me to hold her instead.”

  The words tightened my chest. “Kill? Who’d they kill, Ryder?”

  The silent sobs resumed. His hand released mine and pounded on his temple again. I caught his wrist, but couldn’t fight his strength.

  “Willow. They killed Willow,” he confessed into my skirt. “I held her, and they shot her. They said I needed to know how it felt to be a man. I tried to save her. I swear I did—” His words evaporated into emotion once more as he collapsed inward on himself.

  I hated how fast I pieced it all together. The transition wasn’t from Eden’s Haven back to the outside world; it was from Eden’s Haven to death. They’d tried to force Ryder to shoot Willow and, when he’d refused, they forced him to hold her in place, to feel the life drain from her as they murdered her.

  “We need to leave,” he mumbled. “We need to get out of here, Lindy. Before there’s nothing left of me.” He faced me as he pushed himself upright. “They’re changing me. I’m trying to hold off, but it isn’t like the other guys, Liam and Gabe, they don’t have this black void inside of them. I’m remembering things, horrible things. They’ve never seen what I’ve—”

  I stopped him short. “You’re not him. You’re not Charles.”

  “I wanted to hit you a minute ago.” Ryder’s eyes fell to the ground. “I was angry and ashamed, and I wanted to hit you.” He shuddered at the thought. “You can’t ever love me after this, Lindy. I know you can’t.”

  He wanted to take fault for everything, but it belonged to me. I should have kept him from coming. I could’ve left without him, dropped the case, anything to keep him safe, but I wanted to be near him again. Under the anger and betrayal, I wanted to be alone with him again, if only for a short time.

  “This isn’t your fault.”

  “I can’t do it,” he said. “I can’t finish this. I’m not you. I’m not strong enough. The road is a mile south of here. Shane can be here before then. Press your button and get us out.”

  The despair etched in his eyes made me wither in shame. I’d never quit a case. I owed a debt to the women of Eden’s Haven, but wasn’t my debt to Ryder deeper?

  “If that’s what you want me to do, I’ll do it.”

  My fingers caught the leather strip and the medallion slid into my hand. I rubbed my thumb over the golden bird, testing the tension. Courage pricked my conscience.

  “You’re stronger than you think. You never know how strong you are until you’re pushed to the teetering edge.” Memories of that one-room cabin flashed in my mind. “I didn’t think I’d survive, but I did.”

  Ryder’s head popped up. The honesty in my words caught his attention. It was unusual for me, I suppose, and the forest hushed to hear my confession.

  “Dallas would start early in the morning, before I had a chance to eat. If I had a full stomach beforehand, all my screaming made me sick.” I’d never told anyone actual memories, but something about my pain made his bearable.

  “He’d cut into my skin, deep enough and maybe an inch long. The blood would rise up and pool as he cut other strips and waited. He used to tell me that my blood made the most beautiful designs, as if it was something I should be proud of.” I tried to laugh, but it was all air. “When a cut would dry up, he would dig a little deeper. He’d twist the knife to exact the most pain.” I drew in a breath to stop the wobble in my lips. “In the beginning, I fought back and struggled, but that only meant he beat me more, so after a few days I stopped.”

  Ryder’s hand covered mine. I felt some relief from the memory. “It was the apex of his psychotic break. Reality blurred for him. Before the cabin, he was a different person; he’d kept his urges hidden. Somehow, I brought out the crazy, and he found it difficult to remember I wasn’t Cassidy.” To stop the tears, I shoved my jaw from one side to the other, stretching and pushing the pinch of emotion away. “Sometimes he’d stop suddenly, and Dallas was back in control. He kissed me, and I hate that I kissed him back, but I was so confused and so tired.” I yanked my hand free. “Sometimes, I thought I was going to break like he had.”

  The weight of Ryder’s palm pressed against my skirt on my leg. I’d never told anyone that. I wanted to leave it buried in the past and let it rot away with every other memory. But the feelings I’d felt for Dallas were real even if they were based on lies.

  “Every day I thought he’d kill me.” It wasn’t a secret. I’d told that part before. “But what people don’t know is every day I wished he’d kill me. I didn’t wish for freedom. I wished for death.”

  “Lindy, you don’t mean that.” It was the first glimpse I’d seen of the Ryder I knew. My words hurt him, not because he thought I lied, but because he knew it was the truth.

  “I did. Back then I did. All I could see or smell or feel for eight days was blood and pain. I didn’t think there would ever be a day where I could feel whole again. I’m still not sure.” My hand slipped over his, mine warm and his ice cold and bloodied with Willow’s death. “But, even despite all that, I survived because of what I hung onto.”

  His brow squished together. “What? What kept you strong?”

  It was my secret, one of the deepest ones I’d held from that time, but he needed it. He needed to know.

  “You. I held onto you.” I couldn’t look at him, but I heard his breath, sharp, but soft as my words landed. “I know you and I weren’t together. You had Vanessa, but I’ve held onto you for strength since I first met you. MRIs, caskets, a one-room cabin with hot days and sleepless nights, every nightmare whether you’re there or not, it’s always been you, Ryder. You’ve kept me strong.” The edge of his thumb brushed mine. “I think of our time together, good or bad, and I feel you near me. Playing cards while you were in the hospital, the bluffs, the masquerade, even arguing with you at Rockin’ B, it kept me sane. It kept me grounded when I felt like I might lose it all.”

  When I finally had the courage, I looked up at him, lips parted, brow still crushed, but he was there in those dark brown eyes, still a refuge for my tired soul.

  “I had no idea,” he said. “I thought, I mean, I didn’t think you needed anyone.”

  There in that forest I felt the net begin to untangle, a few more knots. Sharing my secrets with someone I trusted increased our bond and gave me power. Though it was slow at first, I lifted my hand to touch his face, the stubble rough beneath my skin.

  “I need you,” I told him.

  The way I said it made it sound as though he was all I needed. As flame ignited in my gut at the sensation of his touch, I began to wonder if it were true.

  Chapter 28

  Three days later, the blood still stared back at me from the inner hem of my skirt. Though nearly indistinguishable from the mud, I knew the blurred edges from where I’d dipped it in a puddle to wet it to clean Ryder’s face. It had transferred to me and because of that, I carrie
d Willow with me. I waffled between wearing it with pride and drenching it in the nearest soapy water to remove the memories associated with it.

  I settled on the first because Willow deserved to be remembered.

  I headed for the garden with my single apple in hand, ready to start the day in the same monotony I’d grown accustomed to. Fern rushed the pathway and barred my access, a broad smile plastered on her face.

  “Didn’t you hear?”

  Happiness was the last emotion I expected from her. Granted, I had my own doubts about Fern’s health and sanity.

  “Heard what?”

  “No work today.” She bounced on her toes like a child. “It’s a celebration day.”

  As usual, she expected me to understand without explanation and pulled, or rather dragged, me toward Harmony’s makeshift kitchen. We spent the next two hours prepping, cooking, and heaven forbid, eating food. Whatever laws that inhibited us from eating before were repealed, at least for the moment, and I took full advantage. Potatoes, steamed carrots, boiled eggs, even the charred edges of bacon ended up in my mouth if I could scarf it before Genesis scolded me.

  Harmony came alive in the kitchen with us as her tiny brigade. She shouted orders, insisted we taste everything, which I was happy to oblige, and kept us moving like a well-oiled machine. Her expertise flowed in every movement. At the end of two hours, pots simmered, chickens roasted in coals, and my stomach was full for the first time in a month. I still hadn’t been clued in on what exactly we were celebrating, but I was willing to follow the current if there were perks.

  I hesitated when we stopped outside the shower cabin. Fern had warned me against showers, but I felt the heat pushing from the door and a gasp of steam billowed from the window. Using the large pots from the kitchen, we mixed cold with hot and poured buckets over the side of the thin curtain. In the place of our bland soaps from camp, they handed me a pink floral bar. Laughter bounced and echoed off the walls, fracturing and reverberating as if the unfamiliar sound had no home but still lingered. No automatic weapons, no threats, a morning so close to normal, I felt as though I might be able to breathe again.