by Anni Taylor
A dull thud came as someone fell roughly to the floor.
The feet were running now. The people had heard us.
We’ll be butchered right here.
Else taken down to the cellar and killed there.
We had to run. Poppy would be left behind, but we had no choice. None.
Footfalls came from the other direction.
Too late. We were trapped now.
Flashlights strobed the air, slicing across our faces and bodies.
In the snatches of light, I could see that there were over a dozen figures.
They were almost upon us. Silhouetted. Hooded. Terrifying.
I prepared to die, my mind blanking out.
“What’s going on here?” Brother Sage’s voice boomed down the long, narrow space.
Jerking my head around, I searched the figures until I found his face. It was him. I hadn’t imagined his voice.
My body slackened in relief. The mentors hadn’t been murdered. Neither had all of the monks been slaughtered.
We weren’t alone here.
“Well, thank fuck it’s you,” cried Richard, his voice shakier than I’d yet heard it.
Kara had vanished.
I looked around for Poppy. She was slumped on the floor. Running to her, I dropped to my knees and lifted her top to just above her navel. “We need a bandage—now!”
Poppy shivered uncontrollably under my hands. She’d lost so much blood already. Kara’s cold words about how long it would take Poppy to die sprang into my head.
“Here,” Cormack told me under his breath. He tore off his shirt. I tried to wrap it around her.
Poppy struggled to sit, her voice raspy and strained with agony. “Kara was just here,” she told Brother Sage. “Bitch stabbed me.”
“Get Poppy to the infirmary,” ordered Brother Sage. “Before we lose her.” He half-turned then to speak with one of the other monks.
I frowned, shielding my eyes from the harsh glare of flashlights. I knew the monk that Brother Sage was speaking to. But from where?
My stomach hitched as the answer came to me.
Wilson Carlisle.
The man that had been at the Sydney casino with Kara.
He wasn’t a monk.
Brother Sage turned around a fraction more.
I caught a split-second view of the back of his robes.
A symbol.
A ladder inside a hexagon.
The same symbol the person who’d killed Saul had worn.
Everything inside me crushed to a single point, a single thought.
We had not been rescued.
The monks were not monks. The mentors were not good.
What had Kara said they were? Yeqon’s Saviours?
Gasping breaths rattled in my lungs.
Brother Sage finished his conversation with Wilson and fixed his gaze on me, a sudden knowing look curling his lips. “Get this lot down to the cellar. Brothers, three of you go and find Kara.”
“What the hell?” demanded Richard. “Do you have any idea what’s happening in the cellar? There are people—” He broke off suddenly, making a low moan as he came to the same realisation that I had.
Wilson grinned at me, shrugging.
“Fuck.” Cormack tried to run and barrel his way through the men behind us.
“You bastard!” Richard charged straight at Brother Sage with his knife held straight out.
But the Saviours grabbed both of them and held them tight.
Brother Vito strode forward from between the dark figures in front of us. Bending down, he gathered Poppy into his arms.
He shot me a resigned look. “I’m sorry, Evie.”
Poppy rested her head against his chest. “About time, Vito.”
I stared from her to Brother Vito.
“Poppy . . .?” My voice crushed to grains.
Poppy cast a dark look in my direction. “You ruined it. I get a kick out of being hung up in the cellar. All these cuts on my body? Brother Vito did them. We do this every year. As a special anniversary treat between lovers.” Sighing, she eyed Richard. “Awww, cheer up, baby chin, I really did like you.”
Brother Sage clapped his hands together. “Hurry, go find the rest of them. There should be about seven.”
Poppy giggled. “They were trying to make a break for the exit.”
“They made it out there,” said Brother Sage. “They’re being rounded up at the moment. Well, this year’s event has certainly been different. We need to get things back on track.”
I stared in numb horror at the hooded figures that I’d believed I could trust. “Why?” I whispered to Brother Sage.
He tilted his head as a dismissive look entered his eyes. “We’ve been among all of you for centuries. And so we’ll always be.”
62. GRAY
THE MOON WAS COVERED BY CLOUDS as our boat cut through the black water. I couldn’t make out a mass of land ahead, but Sethi assured us it was there.
Echoing cries filled the air, long and plaintive, like the cries of small children. “What the hell is that?”
“Peacocks,” Sethi told me. “It’s deafening when you’re close to them. It’s good. The noise will help give us cover.”
Jennifer was staring straight ahead, like she hadn’t heard the birds at all. “There’s the island.”
Constance hadn’t spoken on the entire trip, just sitting and looking out at the ocean.
We landed on a pebbly shore. Reeds or tall grasses—I couldn’t tell which—rustled and swayed in the breeze.
Clouds shifted from the moon, exposing a long line of boats on the left side of us, anchors stuck deep in the sand. I spotted the chapel up high on the hill, the large cross on top jutting darkly against the moonlit sky. I couldn’t see the monastery from here, but that was good.
If we can’t see them, they can’t see us, right?
I knew that was a logical fallacy, but I needed something to hold onto. Jennifer and Sethi had been using gadgets to interfere with any surveillance devices on the island long before we even arrived. I had to hope they knew what they were doing.
Sethi jumped out and into the water. “At least we don’t have the worry of hiding the boat. Our boat shouldn’t be noticed among all of these.”
I followed Sethi into the water, helping him tug the boat into shore. Jennifer and Constance climbed out. I caught Constance’s arm as she stumbled on driftwood.
She jerked her head up at me. “God, this place. It feels . . . bad.”
I knew what she meant. Everything we’d heard about the Saviours had suddenly crystallized into something physical.
On a far hilltop, large, dark shapes moved.
I froze on the spot. If whoever was on the hill had watched us sail in, we were sitting ducks. Then I realised what they were. Peacocks. Their bodies were big enough—with their long, full tails—to resemble a man crawling. At least the peacocks might act as a kind of cover for us.
“You and Constance stay here,” Sethi told us. “Behind this rock. Keep your heads down. Until Jennifer and I return.”
“What are you going to be doing?” Constance asked anxiously.
“Looking for thermal imaging cameras,” he said quietly. “They give off a kind of heat we’ll be able to detect with our counter-imaging. If there are any, we’ll disable them.”
Constance and I kept behind the rock, tense and waiting. When Jennifer and Sethi came back, we ran up the beach and onto the hillside, staying low to the ground. We started the climb, our feet sliding on the dry soil and loose rocks.
It was a twenty-minute climb to an outer perimeter wall of the monastery.
“This is it,” Sethi told us. He reached for the rope and grappling hook over his shoulder. “Once we’re in, there might not be any coming out again.”
He lowered his head to kiss Jennifer.
“You’ve got no skin in this game,” she told him quietly. “You can leave now. You should. You got me here, and that’s enough.”
&n
bsp; He held her in his gaze. “Your brother is my brother.”
“Wait,” Constance said urgently. “What if there’s another way?”
Sethi shook his head. “As far as I can see, this wall goes all the way around.”
“Ssh,” Jennifer cautioned. “I see something. Lights.”
I whipped around to see what she was seeing. Flashlights. Dotted around the hills. “Hell. Where’d they come from all of a sudden?”
Sethi tugged his rope, making the hook tumble down.
The four of us crouched on the ground.
The flashlights seemed to crowd together, the people coming together and moving in a single line now. Coming closer. I held my breath. If they chose to walk around the perimeter, they’d find us. We were exposed here—no trees or large rocks to hide behind. If we were going to head away to a better position, we had to go. Now.
I turned my head to Jennifer, Sethi and Constance. They were looking around, and I could guess they had the same idea.
“We can’t let them find us.” Jennifer lifted binoculars to her eyes. “God.”
“What is it?” Sethi took the binoculars from her and looked through them himself.
“There’s a group of people with rifles,” said Jennifer. “They’re the ones with the flashlights. They’ve got prisoners.”
“Who? Who have they got? Can you see?” I asked quickly.
“Kara?” whispered Constance.
Sethi shook his head. “They’re too far away to see clearly. Wait. Gamóto! Where did they go?”
He returned the binoculars to Jennifer. “I lost sight of them.”
“Do you think they saw us?” Constance breathed.
“No,” answered Sethi. “I don’t think so. They were walking in a straight line. Not looking over this way, as far as I could tell.”
“But if they’ve got night-vision binoculars, too? They might have seen us. Maybe they’re hiding and waiting.” Jennifer looked again through her lenses.
“If they just vanished,” said Constance, “maybe that means there’s a passage that goes underground to the monastery. Ancient castles had that kind of thing, didn’t they? Hidden passageways?”
“Too risky,” said Jennifer. “We can’t assume something like that.” She gazed straight upward to the top of the fencing. “Risky to go over the wall, too. But we don’t have much of a choice.”
Constance exhaled, turning towards the dark hills. Her voice flattened when she spoke. “There’s a hidden passageway in the chapel. Petrina told me.”
“What?” Jennifer hissed, grabbing Constance’s arm. “You told Petrina where we were going?”
I stared at Constance in shock.
Constance shook her head, twisting back to face Jennifer. “No, she knows nothing. All I did was ask her about the image of the chapel. She and Rico found out some things about it. And about the monastery.”
“Do they know where the island is?” demanded Jennifer, still clutching Constance’s arm.
“No. They have no idea.” Constance shivered, the shiver running through her voice.
“Are you sure about the chapel?” Jennifer asked.
“I’m sure.” Constance bent her head. “At least, Petrina was sure.”
“I know her,” muttered Jennifer. “And she knows her stuff.”
Sethi rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, look, the thing that Constance did has been done. We can’t change it. And you know, it makes sense about the hidden passageway. Maybe we should go check it out.”
Jennifer let her hold on Constance drop. “Okay. I’m outvoted. We’ll wait another minute and then head out. Everyone stay low.”
63. GRAY
WE CREPT ACROSS THE HILLS TO the chapel, Constance and I following close behind Jennifer and Sethi. The captives and their captors had vanished there.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that the members of the Yeqon’s Saviours cult had simply switched off their flashlights, and they were waiting here to ambush us. But this was the better of two bad options if there really was a secret entry in the floor of the chapel.
Sethi’s face held a sheen of sweat. “Could be a trap walking into that.”
Jennifer pulled a balaclava over her face. “I’ll go check.”
“Not you.” Sethi touched her arm. “I’ll go.”
“I’m better at this,” she told him. “I’ve been doing this for years.” Without waiting for a reply, she left and headed away, lithe on the rocky slope of the hill.
Sethi turned to us with a tight expression. “I know this is what we signed up for when we came here. But the practice is different from the theory.”
“I know,” Constance whispered back. “We’re soldiers in a war. That’s what it feels like. A war.” She gazed back at the high walls of the monastery. “We can’t win this, can we?”
Sethi bowed his head in acknowledgement. “Stay with us, Constance Lundquist. If your daughter is here, may you get the chance to see her. If we don’t win the war, maybe we can win the battle.”
Constance nodded, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.
I looked away, trying not to let a bitter sense overtake me. All this just to win a battle? Evie might already be dead. And all I’d get was the chance to know what happened to her. But Sethi was right. This was what we signed up for.
Jennifer reached the chapel, glancing back once at Sethi. I understood now that she would stop at nothing to find out what happened to her brother. She’d already given her life for that cause. But was she going to take us into danger without a second thought?
She circled the chapel to a point where we could no longer see her. Within a minute, she re-emerged, waving us forward.
We made our way up to the chapel.
The interior of the chapel was a simple affair: stone floor and walls, a small altar and a rope hanging down from a large bell.
It didn’t take us long to find the trapdoor. It wasn’t in the floor. A set of four wide stone steps led to the altar—the entire stairway lifting up as a door to reveal a hidden tunnel.
Inside, stairs led down.
Crouching, we stepped in and onto the stairs. Sethi closed the door behind us.
The passage walls were close enough to reach out and touch on either side. My shoes stuck to the damp floor. The same rain that had poured down the day that Constance and I had first tramped up the hill to Jennifer’s house had trickled in here, the smell of wet mud rising from the ground. Our shoe prints wouldn’t be noticed—lots of shoes had just tramped this ground.
A light shone on the wall around the next bend. If we walked on, we’d be exposed.
Jennifer stopped, turning back to Sethi.
Wordlessly, he stepped around her, drawing out a gun from his pocket. Pressing his back against the wall, he angled his face to try to see around the bend. He inched along the wall.
Suddenly, he charged ahead.
Had he been seen by the Saviours?
Pulling out our guns, we followed him around the bend.
Sethi bent over the crumpled figure of a woman. She was blonde, middle-aged and thin. There was no one else. A dim lamp was fixed to the wall overhead.
The woman turned to view us with dulled, dazed eyes. A bullet hole and blood darkened the side of her face, just above her ear.
Constance inhaled sharply.
Jennifer knelt down to the woman. “What’s your name?”
“Louelle May Gibson,” she answered in a laboured but automatic tone. “I’m a librarian from Grand Rapids, Michigan. I have a husband and three children. Two cats. I’m addicted to prescription drugs.”
Jennifer cast a confused glance at Sethi then brushed the woman’s bloodied hair away from her temple. “Where were those men taking you?”
“The cellar . . .” A thin line of foamy blood trailed from the corner of Louelle’s mouth. “I’m no good to them anymore. They left me here . . .” At that point, Louelle May Gibson went beyond the point of being able to talk to us.
M
y chest squeezed inward. The horror of the Saviours had just become real.
“We have to go.” Jennifer motioned to us.
We continued on down the passage.
The stench grew thicker. Foul.
Shots of electricity crisscrossed my body, surging into my brain, warning me to get the hell off this island.
64. EVIE
BROTHER VITO TOOK ME DOWN TO the cellar.
Other members of Yeqon’s Saviours took the rest of us.
Why didn’t I go with Louelle and the others?
Vito fixed the chains to my arms and ankles in the same gentle way that he’d fixed the wristband to me, as though the two were no different in his eyes.
“I have children,” I pleaded. “You can’t—”
“I have two young ones myself. I adore them.”
“Yet you can rip parents away from their own children?”
“It’s the way the world operates. Some win. Some lose. We are what we are—Evie—all of us,” he said, his voice in that same soothing register he always used, only it was chilling now. “Each person must remain true to themselves. I wouldn’t have chosen for you to see the cellar at all. The final six contestants are always given the quickest death. The six have their final meal, and then we hold our ceremony. And then we prepare the challenge rooms again. Six new challenges, all held later tonight. Each of the new challenges is deadly, and when you die, death is fairly instant. But seeing as the remaining six are the best, you have a slight chance of lasting until the sixth challenge. If that happens, your death will occur by drowning in the cenote.” He eyed me indulgently. “I hope that will be you, Evie. You can make it to the end. And when you die, your body will be whole and unmarked. A beautiful death.”
A guttural moan rose from my throat. “Where are the others? Did they leave the island?”
“Don’t you understand? None of them left the island. They either died here in the cellar or they died out on the hills. Each night of the six challenges—just before dawn—we release half of the losing contestants outside to the hills, where we hunt them. You see, some of our Saviours prefer to hunt than to get up close with their quarry. We cater for all tastes here.”
Staring at him in revulsion, I recalled the raucous noise of the peacocks before dawn each morning and the distant screams I’d dismissed as being bird calls. Each morning when I’d woken in my bed, sleepy, excited and wondering about the next challenge, people were being hunted to their deaths out there on the island.