by Amy Rachiele
“Cool,” Gilly says. “The pretty one is back.” He points to a girl with long, brown, wavy hair.
“Wait.” I notice the girl isn’t holding hands with Priest.
“She’s got doe eyes,” Gilly announces, enamored, and toggles a knob. The picture gets huge.
My face warps. “Who the fuck says doe eyes?”
“She has them,” he maintains.
“Whatever.” I squint. “Right here. Zoom in more.” I incline, pissed as shit, to get a better look. “What is she doing?”
“It looks like she’s handing out something. A flyer or pamphlet?” Gilly guesses.
“Damn it!” I stomp out of the closed-circuit room to the elevator and jab the up arrow. I rip my phone out of my pocket and dial Alex. He picks up immediately. “They’re passing out shit! Get out there now!” I slap my finger down on the end button and the elevator doors open. I step in, swipe my key card, and stab my finger on the lit up letter L. Why the fuck did they pick our casino? This is just what I need on a Monday morning.
“Please move along! Patrons only! No loitering please!” Alex is repeating over and over in a monotone voice. He is motioning to them with his hands like he is directing traffic or landing a plane. The group shuffles around a bit but is otherwise ignoring him. Alex is doing a good job of keeping it together and not tearing the Glock out of the back of his pants and firing warning shots above the gathering to scare them. I know because it is what I want to fucking do! I search the faces looking for the leader, Priest, to maybe talk some sense into him. I don’t see him.
“This is private property!” I wish I had a megaphone. “We do not allow loitering! Please move away from the building!” For a minute I think that they are going to scramble away like last time, until I see what they are doing.
The man on the end nearest me starts a chain reaction. Their hands link together one by one. Have they spent some time on a chorus line? Shit! They all hold hands to sing a song. I am so ticked off I can’t even make out what they are saying.
“This is private property! Move away, please!” They completely and utterly disregard me. Not only that but they sing friggin’ louder. My blood boils.
Across the street, a crowd is watching this whole thing unfold. Pop is going to shit fucking bricks. What now? The police are going to have to be greased and called in. I don’t want to stir up anything in front of all these onlookers. The casino and the “family” need to stay under the radar.
I scan the group quickly and I see the girl with the flyers. Her head is down as she palms the shiny papers in her hand. Two can play this game.
I sidle up, getting very close to her. I’m six-two; she can’t be more than five-five, so I tower over her. I keep walking, getting in her space. I’m not hurting her. She has to back up, she has no choice.
I back her up to the building, pinning her. Thick wavy hair bunches up behind her head and big green eyes stare at me. I’ve corralled her by leaning my hand against the building putting our faces in a tight formation, kissing distance.
“Why don’t you do me a favor?” I whisper, lowering my head to her level very intimately. “Why don’t you give me those flyers you’ve got there, and take your friends home. You’ve made your point. I don’t want to see anyone get hurt.”
I use my swarthy Italian charm. Her green eyes are saucers, wide and fearful—doe-eyed like Gilly said. I have her trapped beneath me. She is beautiful.
“What do you say?” I ask somewhat nicely, my lips curling into a smile.
“Get away from her!”
I twist my head just enough to see who the fucker is that is brazen enough to talk to me like that. Alex has stepped forward, put a hand to his concealed piece, and raised his other arm stopping Priest, the leader of these nut jobs, from approaching me.
It is clearly written on his angelic screwy face that I have rattled him. This must be his girl. I can’t hide my snide smile. So I do what a typical cocky-ass like me would do to someone who is fucking with my business and stirring up shit. I run my hand so close to her shoulder that it looks like I am touching her. “She’s pretty.” Those two words make every crazy blue-robed cult member suck in a breath of surprise.
Priest’s face twists grotesquely with jealousy and he lunges for me. I don’t flinch because I knew what was going to happen.
In a flash, Alex flattens him to the ground. Who does this fucker think he is dealing with? We make regular club bouncers look like altar boys. No one in the cult moves. Breathy whimpers beside me cause me to look at her again. I take her hand, pulling her forward toward her cult leader who is restrained on the sidewalk. The flyers she is carrying rustle and fall to the pavement. I glare at Priest, hovering over him as Alex’s knee pins him to the cold cement.
“Carlo, what do you want me to do with him?” Alex locks him to the ground, pushing harder.
I hold up our entwined hands for him to see. “What’s the matter? You don’t like me touching your girl?” I taunt him, and a tingle crawls up my arm. I ignore the odd sensation. “Well, I don’t like you standing outside my casino.” I stare down at him sending the message home. I release the girl’s hand and nod to Alex to let go of Priest. “Get the fuck out of here! Now!” Priest stands, rubbing his neck; it’s red above the collar of his robe. I can read his face as if it were my own—marred with vehemence. It also holds a revengeful fanaticism that makes me realize I’ve got to step up this game and keep an eye on him.
The girl hesitates, torn and confused by the gaze that passes between me and Priest.
“Anya, come here!” She scurries to him like a minion. He puts his arm around her shoulder, shoots me one last dirty look before turning. The girl peers at me with her head half-peering behind her, and I swear a flicker of want pass across her eyes. The swish of robes moves with the cold autumn air and the entire cult follows as Priest leads the way.
Alex shakes his head.
“Next time, we’ll have to use ‘force.’” I lean down and swipe one of the flyers off the ground. “Get someone out here to clean these up,” I order my friend, as I quickly scan the piece of paper.
The Anointed Heavens:
A spiritual refuge for the lost and alone.
The Anointed Heavens has a vision of fixing a world
that is on a destructive path.
With each generation, one is chosen.
One who will have the prophetic guidance.
Priest is the chosen one.
Follow him as he leads people to the light.
Make a difference in the world.
Anything is possible with love and community.
Join us!
I flip it over, rolling my eyes.
Together we can make a difference.
Find comfort in the Anointed Heavens.
It is what binds us together and makes us strong.
Pop is at the bar flicking through receipts when I walk back into the casino.
“Yesterday was a decent day, especially for a Sunday with fuckin’ freaks on our doorstep for half of it.”
“They’re gone.” I sit down on the leather bar stool in front of Pop.
“Good.”
“I’m going to have to make a call though. It got a little too heated. They’ll be back.”
“You can handle it.” Pop seems confident that I can and stacks the receipts, clipping them together. His eyes flick to me.
“Why don’t you take out Furlotti’s cousin’s daughter? What’s her name?” Pop snaps his fingers. “Felicia. She’s not bad.”
“Pop,” I exhale and I hang my head. “Are we on this again? This conversation is getting really old.”
“You’re getting old. You’re twenty-six and you don’t even have a girl to call your own. How am I gonna get any grandchildren in this place? We need kids here.” Pop waves, gesturing around the room.
“Yes. Kids in a casino. Definitely a place to call home.” I’m sarcastic and Pop doesn’t like it.
“You and your si
ster turned out fine!”
“That’s what this is about,” I accuse. “Clarissa is gone and now you are concentrating your energy on me.”
“That ain’t fuckin’ it.”
“Yes it is, Pop. Why would you expect her to call you every day? You kept her locked here until she was fifteen. No wonder she comes home less and less.”
“You know how dangerous this life is! I had to protect her.”
“You haven’t let her go,” I inform him, casting my opinion into the air.
“What do you mean?” Pop’s hand waves in annoyance. “She’s away at college. How is that not letting her go?”
“You sent her away with Joey. That is not being on her own.”
“Joey is doing an excellent job. And that’s as on her own as she is going to get until there is a ring on her finger!”
“You don’t get it! She barely left this casino until she went away to that fancy high school on the other side of the country.”
“You know our enemies are close, Carlo.” Pop’s voice drops with a bit of regret. “This is who we are.” I think about bringing up the whole early morning ominous meeting with Caesar but decide not to.
“I know, Pop. It’s harder for Clarissa to swallow than me. She’s pretty well adjusted but she is going through some stuff. Give her some time. Send her some texts, she’ll come around.”
“What’s that?” Pop asks, changing the subject and pointing.
“One of the pamphlets the whack jobs were handing out. I wanted to look at it to see if I could figure out what makes these people tick.”
“Brainwashed zombies… There’s not much to figure out,” Pop comments.
“True,” I agree, shaking my head, gazing at the words on the brochure. I can’t believe people fall for this bullshit.
Priest is the chosen one.
What a fucking nut!
Chapter 3
Anya
As soon as we are back inside the compound, a place I’ve called home since I was a baby, I go to the sink in the massive kitchen and wet a dishcloth with cold water. Today, I was caught between having a heart attack or throwing up. That guy from the casino exuded masculine beauty with an aggressive edge, just like Priest. The man locking Priest to the ground with only his knee called him Carlo. I wonder thinly if he owns the beautiful La Bella Regale.
The meditation room is empty. No one will bother Priest right now. The hammer is going to fall, hard. He is in his chair with his eyes closed trying to keep it together. The whole episode unleashed a beast. I do my best to avoid this type of thing. I have had to learn to cope year after year the more brutal it got.
His black hair is mussed, I notice as I come up behind him. I approach him cautiously and begin dabbing the damp cloth on his sore neck, hoping by soothing it, it will soothe his ego. His pride took a beating less than thirty minutes ago, and I know what’s coming next. I am trying to soften the blow. His arm shoots out, grabbing my wrist, and he turns it as red as his neck. I wince, tripping forward to come around to face him.
“Don’t touch me with those hands.” I wanted to point out I wasn’t, the cloth was. He is touching me by grabbing my wrist.
He shoves me, and I fall back on to the carpet on my butt, eye level with the legs of the utilitarian chairs and couches in the room. Priest stands and walks over to the heavy black belt hanging from the edge of the old cross over the fireplace mantel—the symbol of our sins.
“Take your shirt off,” he orders. Our eyes meet and his are filled with a domineering viciousness. The kid I remember from my own childhood, gone. My heart dips to my stomach in anticipation of what is to come. I let my fingers slip into each button hole as I remove my plain white top.
Shouldn’t I cry? My pride, my heart, and myself have been stripped away. I think I’ve lost my fear. I have to go through the motions regardless. I unclip the back of my bra and kneel on the floor in front of the cross. I fix my eyes there, waiting. I know what to do. I have done it too many times.
“By thunder and nature,
Accept my atonement.”
I blink hard, crushing my eyelids together as I begin to chant while the slap of the belt zings across my back.
“I have displeased you and I repent.” Tears come, wetting my lashes.
“None shall touch me.
None shall have physical contact,
But my Priest.”
The belt whirls through the air again, landing on my worn flesh.
“I devote myself to my Priest
And his needs.
I devote myself to the Anointed Heavens.
Accept this as my cleansing.”
A final swing of the belt lands; it hits the same smarting skin, causing my body to jolt with pain. My eyes water from the stinging and my head falls to my chest in sharp agony.
I stand, bow to Priest, and collect my clothes waiting to be dismissed. Kylie, a member who works in the kitchen with me, carries a tray with a pot of steeping green tea and one cup. This is part of Priest’s cleansing. The unclean hands of charlatans have touched both of us. I grasp my shirt, holding it up strategically, and gingerly slip my arms into the sleeves, feeling every fiber of the cotton with each flinch of my skin.
“By thunder and nature,
Accept my atonement.”
Priest’s chanting voice carries with me; it follows me out into the hallway, mixing with the din. Members pass me going about their day, doing chores, cooking, readying for the evening meal. No one looks at me as I rush past everyone to the chamber I share with Priest. I fall face first onto the mattress exhausted, my eyes closed.
I see a face as I lay here—the man from today. I have seen him only a handful of times when we have done observations of the casino—a confident person with very expressive eyes. Eyes that I find hard to look away from.
“Anya.” My name is whispered.
I lift my head from the mattress and glimpse over my shoulder at Kylie standing in the doorway. “It’s time.”
I am so tired but I drag myself off the bed.
“I’ll be right there.”
She leaves and I sit on the edge of the bed, wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep for a very long time. I want to slip into the nothingness. The one that is free of nightmares. I rub my hands down my face and flip my long brown hair to my back. In the bathroom, I stick a clip in my hair.
The hallway is empty. Priest must have gone to his office after, his ego bruised. The clink of dishes echoes from the kitchen. Tonight, I am in charge of making the salad for twenty-five people. The Anointed Heavens members used to number close to one hundred when Priest’s father was in charge. After his disappearance, the numbers dropped for different reasons but right now this is the lowest we have ever had.
I wish I could leave. Priest tells me that nothing is holding me here but I know him better than anyone. He will never let me go. I’ve tried. It was a slap of reality out in the world that made the one at the Anointed Heavens more appealing. Being raised here, I have nowhere to go. I don’t have any family. It is the kind of hurt that doesn’t come with superficial scars. After my mother’s death, I learned to expect nothing.
She was a teenager when she had me and died from pneumonia when I was ten. If I had been allowed to call 911 and take her to a hospital, she may have survived. It is against our ways. The belief is if you are meant to die you will, there are to be no man-made remedies, or machines. The last person to die here was Magda. She died giving birth. None of us knew how to help her. She and the baby passed away before she could even deliver. A few people of the Anointed Heavens left when that happened. They disappeared in the middle of the night. I thought Priest was never going to stop looking for them. He finally gave up after a year.
I appreciated the break. He was gone for a long time. Some thought that he was never coming back, like his father, but I knew better.
I take out lettuce, tomatoes, cabbage, and a cucumber out of the refrigerator. I easily dance around the others
in the kitchen preparing my portion of the evening meal, the only thing slowing me down the pain from the gashes on my back.
Kylie comes up beside me, putting a bowl next to me. With her hand, she gently nudges me. I look down and in her open palm are two white pills. I gaze back up into her eyes and she mouths, “Medicine.” I nod and take them, putting them in my pocket, hiding them from everyone else in the room. She had stolen a bottle of aspirin on the last supply run. We aren’t allowed any relief medicines because pain is good for your soul. It reminds you of your place in the world, your purpose, and how you fit into the bigger plan to rid the world of its evils.
I leave my work of cutting vegetables and maneuver to the small bathroom in the hallway. It’s empty. I shut the door and run the water cold. My pocket tightens against my hand while I take out the tiny white pills. I cup my other hand under the water. I pop them into my mouth and drink water from my palm, washing them down. I close my eyes then open them, staring at myself in the mirror. My green eyes are sad, hopeless. From a young age, I was told that I am happy because of all of the good I’m doing for the world. Priest’s father instilled in me that I have a higher purpose and that God’s plan for me was whispered to him in a dream.
When Priest’s father, the leader, went missing, the Anointed Heavens didn’t self-destruct and as I look back if I had been older it would have been a blessing but being only a young child, I had nowhere to go, and no one else to take care of me—just like today. Priest was older, a teenager, who rose above and kept the Anointed Heavens running smoothly even when he was chasing members who left. I admired him for that. Perseverance, just one of the qualities that give Priest his power over others, mixed with ethereal beauty.
Everything has been cleaned up; the dishes are put away, and Joseph is turning off the lights in the kitchen for the night. I start in the hallway and with each step I take a light switches off or goes out as I approach the bedroom. I hear the panting before I even reach the doorway. Kylie and Priest disappeared after dinner and for some reason I was distracted and didn’t realize where they had gone to. I reverse my steps into the dark hallway and head for a small side room that houses a couch and a few chairs. It is a meditation room for members, unlike the room for Priest and group meetings.