Away From the Dark (The Light #2)

by Aleatha Romig

  I dialed Brother Daniel.

  “Hello, Jacob.”

  “Brother Daniel, my code won’t work at the gate. Have they all been changed?”

  “Yes,” he replied drily.

  “Father Gabriel asked me to find something for him. I didn’t have time when we first landed due to the emergency meeting. I need to get back to the hangar.”

  “I’m on the Commission, but this is beyond me. You can understand your actions regarding Fairbanks and, well, the call. I’m sorry, I am. Only Father Gabriel can authorize your new code.”

  Fuck!

  “I understand. Thank you, Brother Daniel. I regret not being straightforward about Thomas.”

  Brother Daniel sighed. “In the end you did what was best for The Light. That’s what matters.”

  “Sara?” I couldn’t say her name aloud without its overflowing with emotion.

  “Jacob.” Brother Daniel paused. “It’s beyond me.”

  Swallowing, I nodded. “Thank you, Brother Daniel. Whom should I call?” I wasn’t thinking straight. Following his orders seemed like the best course of action.

  “I’ll call Father Gabriel. Stay at the gate. No one else will be leaving the community today. I’ll call you back.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be waiting,” I said, ending the call. A few more pounds on my steering wheel and I ran the palms of my hands over my growing beard. Nothing helped to calm my nerves. I couldn’t sit in the truck. I had to move. Keeping my phone in hand, I got out of the truck and paced, back and forth, back and forth. The hard cracked ground beneath my boots reminded me that it hadn’t rained in weeks. The climate at the Northern Light was a far cry from the humidity in Michigan.

  My palm struck the side of the truck, once, twice, three times, each strike sending shock waves up my arm, pain from each impact. It wasn’t enough. The pressure was mounting, and I was about to explode.

  The sound of tires against the gravel made me turn, back toward the community.

  Brother Daniel had said no one else would be leaving the community. Only the chosen had their own vehicles. There were also panel trucks used by followers to transport supplies and product to and from the hangar. This was a car, and the closer it got the more my chest clenched. I recognized it—Brother Timothy’s.

  Widening my stance, I stood, waiting beside my truck, as both doors opened. Brother Timothy came from the driver’s side and Brother Abraham from the passenger’s door. My chest inflated as I stood taller. There was no love lost between me and either one of these men.

  Not knowing what they wanted or intended, I sized them both up. Brother Timothy had to be in his early sixties, and though he could be intimidating in voice and with the power he wielded on the Commission, physically he wasn’t. Abraham, on the other hand, was in his early thirties, a little younger than I and maybe an inch or two taller. I was bigger, wider, and undoubtedly stronger. Doing my share of ground crew duties as well as running had kept me fit.

  I took a step toward them as they approached.

  “Brother Jacob,” Brother Timothy said.

  “To what do I owe this pleasure? After all, we just saw each other at the Assembly meeting. Did you miss me?”

  Not amused by my greeting, Brother Timothy formed a straight line with his lips. “Brother,” he continued. “Due to the recent events, as we said in the meeting, all codes have been changed.”

  “I understand not wanting Thomas or other unauthorized individuals entering the community. However, I’m hardly an unauthorized individual. The last I heard, I’m still an Assemblyman.”

  Brother Timothy shrugged and tilted his head toward Abraham. “Brother Abraham, also on the Assembly, is here to escort you to the hangar and back. We want to be sure there are no unforeseen changes in your flight plans.”

  My chest inflated and my fingers balled to fists as I suppressed the first response that came to mind. Instead I swallowed my retort and replied, “I don’t anticipate any, unless I am forced to once again protect The Light.”

  “Father Gabriel wants the letter you need to find. Brother Abraham is merely joining you to help. Once you retrieve what you’ve lost, then the future is up to Father Gabriel.”

  I knew he was baiting me about Sara, but I couldn’t let him know how close to losing it I was. I stepped closer. “Father Gabriel will see that I’m devoted.”

  As the two men exchanged glances, it took every ounce of self-control I possessed not to knock the smirks off their damn faces. “Of course he will, Brother,” Brother Timothy said, still using his overly placating tone. “I spoke with Brother Mark from the Eastern Light. Your devotion has been noted.”

  I audibly exhaled.

  “Now,” Brother Timothy continued, “Father Gabriel wants the message in the envelope from Brother Reuben. Go out to the hangar and find it. Brother Abraham has a new code. He’ll help you.” He turned toward Abraham. “Won’t you?”

  “It’ll be my pleasure.” Abraham turned my way. “I’m always willing to do what the Commission and Father Gabriel ask of me.”

  This wasn’t good.

  “Fine, get in the truck,” I said, turning around. “I have an envelope to find.”

  “Give him your keys, Jacob.”

  What the hell?

  My expression, as I spun, must have spoken for me, because Brother Timothy continued, “The security codes are entered from the driver’s side.”

  “They’re in the ignition,” I replied through clenched teeth as I walked past both men to reach the passenger’s side. Slamming the door, I waited. In the side mirror, I watched as they conversed about something. Finally Abraham walked to the driver’s door. Before getting in, he smiled through the window.

  I hated that man, well, both of them, with a passion. Every time I looked at Abraham I remembered what he’d done to Sara, and how he’d planned to do more. Out of the corner of my eye I watched as he consulted his phone before entering his new pass-code. By the third gate he had it memorized.

  What a genius!

  The truck jiggled over the rough terrain of the road as we traveled toward the hangar in relative silence. Only road noise and the occasional screech of a hawk flying low could be heard until we neared the pole barn.

  Turning toward me, Abraham asked, “Thomas? You said you dumped his body out here?”

  CHAPTER 31

  Sara

  I stared at the phone’s screen, representative of a number pad but devoid of numbers Dylan had programmed. And then it changed. The keypad vanished and the time—10:36 p.m.—appeared. Biting my lip, I sighed.

  A few more days!

  That was what Jacob had said. I was numb. The hunger that had rumbled earlier in my stomach was gone, and so was the excitement. In the middle of Father Gabriel’s office, I was without direction. With the solution in my hand, literally at my fingertips, I couldn’t proceed.

  Calling Bernard would risk the entire FBI mission. It risked everything and everyone.

  Bernard may have had contacts, but would he be able to get to the right people? Involving my old boss risked too many lives—the lives of all my friends at the Northern Light, the lives of terrible people I didn’t honestly give a damn about at the Eastern Light, including those in this mansion, and even the lives of people I’d never met at the Western Light. Involving Bernard could put his life at risk, yet as I stood motionless, staring at a now-dark screen, the only life that I honestly cared about was that of the man I’d called my husband. If I called Bernard, I would jeopardize not only Jacob’s mission but also his life.

  I couldn’t do it.

  With my freedom a phone call away, I couldn’t dial the numbers. It was clear that I loved Jacob more than I craved the biggest story of my career, and somehow even more than I feared this terrible house.

  A lump formed in my throat as I imagined explaining to my dark-haired, dark-eyed son or daughter that it was I, the child’s mother, who’d made the call that had cost my child his or her father.

  Tu
rning slowly, I laid the phone on the desk near Fred and walked toward the large window.

  As time passed and the scene through the window went unchanged, I concentrated on what I could do. I made a mental note of each person, each name I’d encountered at the Eastern Light. I’d recall their names and faces as I testified to whoever would listen. This might be Jacob’s case, but I was a witness and I wanted a part in bringing down The Light.

  It wasn’t until the doorknob rattled that my attention came back to the present. Through the beveled glass, all I could make out was that the figure was a man. With trembling hands I reached for Dylan’s phone. Swiping the screen, I realized my mistake as my stomach dropped. The numbers he’d programmed into it were gone. I’d erased them when I contemplated calling Bernard. The door once again rattled, this time with a knock, and my eyes darted around the office as I searched for a place to hide. For a moment I considered locking myself in the attached bathroom.

  “Sister Sara, it’s me,” Dylan called in a stage whisper. “I’m alone. Please open the door.”

  Relief momentarily flooded me as I grabbed the desk for support and stared at his figure. Slowly I stepped toward the door, listening for any sound to indicate that he’d lied and wasn’t alone, but there was nothing except another faint knock and request for me to open the door.

  “Brother Dylan, is it really you?” I asked, pretending not to recognize his voice.

  “Shit, yes, it’s me.”

  My cheeks rose as a small smile crept across my lips. I’d never before noticed how much he cussed. Living in The Light, where vulgarities were frowned upon, made each one he uttered sound foreign. I marveled at how, in the Northern Light, even my thoughts had been without vulgarities—well, until my memories returned. Using vulgarities was the transgression Jacob had chosen as being in need of correction in Fairbanks.

  Turning the small latch within the doorknob, I opened one of the doors. Keeping my eyes down, I watched as Dylan’s boots crossed the threshold onto the red carpet, then quickly shut the door, mindful to again turn the latch. The tray he’d been carrying clattered as he placed it on Father Gabriel’s desk near Fred and his phone.

  “I made you a sandwich and brought you some water,” he offered, as if a sandwich could make up for what I’d been through. “I almost got you a beer, but then I remembered the pregnant thing. I didn’t know if you should have tea. So, well, I settled for water. I hope that’s all right.”

  Beer. I hadn’t even thought of beer in months. Suddenly memories of the two of us came to mind. I recalled evenings on his back deck with beers while he grilled, but just as quickly I remembered that he was the one who’d handed me over to his uncle. Taking a deep breath was all I needed to solidify my more recent memories, those of hours ago in the basement of this horrible place at the mercy of Brother Mark. When I inhaled, the white dress tugged and pulled against the new lashes, pushing any pleasant thoughts away and doing what they were intended to do: remind me.

  “Thank you,” I said quietly. “It’s very kind of you.”

  He motioned toward the food. “Do you want a chair, or would you rather—?”

  “Standing is fine,” I replied, hoping that my pain inflicted guilt.

  When I didn’t move closer, he asked, “Are you going to eat?”

  “I’m waiting, for you.”

  “Me? I ate earlier.” The confusion in his voice was audible.

  “Brother Dylan, I’m waiting for you to bless the food so I may eat.”

  “Shit, yeah, well, I did that already. So go ahead and eat.”

  When he reached for the phone I’d left on the desk, my heart skipped a beat. I was grateful I hadn’t made a call.

  “You erased the number I put in here? What if someone had come?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do. I was holding it. I think I touched something, and it went dark.” I smiled at my own creativity as I took a long drink of water. My amusement quickly faded as I noticed my empty ring finger and my thoughts went to Jacob.

  “It’s all right. I’m back.”

  “Why?” I asked, taking a bite of the turkey sandwich. As my teeth sank into the soft bread I realized how hungry I’d become and almost hummed at the taste of mayonnaise. I hadn’t eaten that since before The Light, and the unique gooiness was like heaven on my tongue.

  “What?” Dylan asked.

  I put the sandwich down and lowered my chin. “I’m sorry. I know better than to question a man. It is my biggest struggle. I just don’t understand why you’re being nice to me. No one else is.”

  “I had a talk with Mariam. Things will be different.”

  I nodded, again reaching for my sandwich. When I did, my breathing hitched as Dylan covered my hand with his. “I know it doesn’t make sense to you, but if it did, I’d tell you that I didn’t have a choice.”

  Bullshit! We all have choices.

  I bit my lip, doing my best to keep my Sara persona intact. The part of me that was Stella was no longer reliving pleasant memories. She was ready to take Dylan out for the hell he’d put her through.

  “My uncle won’t be back here for at least a few days. I’m trying to come up with something.”

  “Brother,” I said, conscious that the title made him uncomfortable, “I don’t want to stay here. I want to go back to my husband.” A real tear crept down my cheek. “I don’t want to be a bride of The Light. I know by not accepting this honor that Sister Mariam spoke of, I deserve to be punished, but I don’t want the honor.”

  With each word I spoke about brides of The Light and honor, Dylan’s hand upon mine tensed.

  “Here,” he said, scooting the phone closer to me. “Take this again. I put my number back in it. Don’t touch anything unless you need me. I have a few more people I need to talk to before I can leave you alone. Just stay quiet and finish your dinner.”

  “Yes, Brother.”

  He huffed and pointed toward a door I’d explored earlier. “There’s a bathroom, if you need it. Remember, don’t let anyone in but me.”

  “Yes, Broth . . . Dylan.”

  And just like that, he left me alone for the second time. I wasn’t sure whom he was going to speak to or whether it would help. No matter how convenient it would be, I wasn’t willing to put my faith in him. It was already taken by Jacob’s promise.

  After I finished the sandwich and water, I looked out the window at the colorful pool. No matter what I did, my mind drifted to the Northern Light. I worried about Jacob and the envelope Father Gabriel had mentioned. I worried about Benjamin and Raquel. Father Gabriel had said something about speaking with them. He’d said it was no longer an issue. I didn’t want to even consider what that meant.

  I eyed the computer at Father Gabriel’s desk. Could there be something, anything, there that I could access? Could it help Jacob’s case?

  Carefully I sat in Father Gabriel’s large chair, but as my fingers hovered over the keyboard, I feared that trying to access information would set off an alarm. Instead I opened drawers and peered inside for anything.

  Certainly, once the raids occurred, the FBI would thoroughly search the entire mansion. Maybe it would be better if I didn’t disturb anything.

  Sometime around midnight, my tired muscles cried for rest. It might have been only after eight at the Northern Light, but unfortunately I’d awakened at the Eastern Light, and was still here. Not only were my muscles tired of standing and walking, but also exhaustion tugged at my eyelids. Over the last hour I’d formed a fleeting sense of security locked away in Father Gabriel’s office. I didn’t know where I would be told to sleep, but since I was here and so was the sofa, I decided to see whether I could sit. Though the leather was incredibly soft, sitting was too painful to allow me to rest; however, after maneuvering around, I found that if I lay on my side, I could get comfortable.

  With Dylan’s phone tightly in my grasp and his number still available, I sighed and my tight muscles eased a bit. I closed my eyes. Lost in the fa
miliar leather scent, in no time at all I drifted to sleep.

  In my dream I was no longer a hostage in Father Gabriel’s mansion, and the talk of brides of The Light was forgotten. I wasn’t holding Dylan’s phone; instead my palm was warmly and safely encased in Jacob’s. In a gentle breeze, we were walking through the north acres at the Northern Light.

  The warm kiss of the sun touched my hair and our arms brushed each other’s as we walked. When I looked up, I squinted. The bright sky behind him created a glow, but it was Jacob’s gaze that brought a rush of blood to my cheeks. I quickly looked down. I didn’t need to ask why he was looking at me or what he saw. It wasn’t because I wasn’t allowed to question. It was because I knew. I knew the swirl of emotions behind his soft brown eyes. I knew his consuming thoughts that words could never fully describe. I knew where we’d gone and what we’d done when merely his expression had the ability to accelerate my heart and twist my insides.

  Leaning closer to my husband, I melted against his strong arm, closed my eyes, and drank in his intoxicating scent of leather and musk. While tall grass rustled all around us, Jacob pulled us to a stop, removed his jacket, and laid it upon the cool ground. In the middle of the circumpolar North he’d provided us with the perfect place to sit. When I did, he laid his head in my lap, and I ran my fingers through his dark, wavy hair. His deep voice and soft laugh were but drugs to my already-inebriated system, electrifying my senses as they reverberated from him to me.

  As we spoke, the gentle breeze tousled my blonde hair, fluttering pieces around my face. Jacob’s large hand gently tucked a renegade strand behind my ear. Eager for more of his touch, I inclined my cheek toward his palm. His warmth combined with the rough tips of his fingers lingered, cupping my cheek as he wordlessly encouraged me forward until our lips were but a whisper apart.

  Their contact overloaded my body—soft yet firm, demanding yet giving. My chest heaved as a moan escaped. With the increase in my pulse, my nerves came to life, and impulses sparked synapses that only he could ignite.

  Noise.

  Commotion.

  Startled.