The Choosing

by Rachelle Dekker

  “I assume we have a deal,” Isaac said.

  “You’ll have your dead guards before mornin’ light.”

  Isaac pulled an envelope full of cash from his coat pocket and handed it to the man, who grabbed it and headed out the back door and into the woods as usual.

  Isaac walked back through his home toward the small library where he spent so much time. Under the wooden floor, his bride-to-be was tied and gagged beside yet another unworthy, dying sinner. His frustration was beyond a manageable level. He sat in a large leather chair and let the sound of the clock tick away with his sanity.

  He had been given a mission, had mapped out each detail, clear and orderly. He had procured the supplies, secured reliable assistance, followed every step, never straying from the plan. His orders were clear—to cleanse filthy sinners—and he was prepared. But he had not been prepared for this.

  “Why give her to me just to take her away?” Isaac asked. He listened for a response and heard nothing. The voice had been quiet lately and he was beginning to wonder if God had abandoned him altogether.

  “I have done everything You asked. Why are You punishing me in such a way? She is not like the others; You told me that. It is why I chose her . . . because You instructed.”

  Silence.

  Isaac slammed his fists against the arms of the chair over and over. “Why leave me now in my time of need? Do not turn Your back on me!”

  Like the soft rippling of a brook, the voice returned and worked to calm the storm raging in Isaac’s mind. The words soothed, massaged, and bandaged the wounds.

  “Tell me what to do. Instruct me,” Isaac said.

  He listened and nodded.

  “I will do anything You ask of me, but please let her be mine.”

  Divine guidance filled his heart and he felt peace.

  “I will make her believe; I will make her holy. Praise be.”

  Remko flipped Helms’s coin into the air and caught it in his palm. He had tried to return it to Helms’s father at the funeral, but the man had insisted Remko keep it. He said Helms had talked about Remko like he was a brother and that the coin should stay in the family. Remko had promised Helms’s father he wouldn’t stop until he had captured and brought to justice the men who had taken his son. But with only one of them lying in the ground, Remko was coming up short on his promise.

  The second man seemed to be a ghost. Some of the other guards had started to doubt he even existed, but Mills had spoken of him as if he were real, and that was what Remko used to fuel the dying flame when the trail to the second man grew cold. After sorting through all the nonsense Mills had spouted, Remko was certain neither Mills nor his partner were the brains behind the operation. There was someone else—someone who was also responsible for the Lint bodies that kept turning up. Whoever it was, Mills had claimed he was connected to the Authority. Remko should be out right now trying to track him. Instead, he was stuck on Stacks duty again.

  Remko knew Dodson was worried about his commitment, but leaving him to babysit a building void of residents most of the day was simply cruel. Dodson had been watching Remko like a hawk; he seemed to show up everywhere Remko went. It was impossible to prove the Authority was dirty when one of its members was constantly hovering, scrutinizing.

  A CityWatch vehicle pulled up and Dodson stepped out. Speak of the devil. Remko pushed himself off the wall he was propping up and headed down to where Dodson was standing.

  “Sir,” Remko said.

  “Walk with me,” Dodson said, taking off toward the east. Remko followed, tucking Helms’s coin back into his pocket. Dodson walked until he had put a good amount of distance between the two of them and the rest of the guards lingering around the Stacks. Whatever he was about to tell Remko, he clearly didn’t want anyone else to hear.

  “I received a troubling call this morning,” Dodson started. “A CityWatch vehicle has gone missing, along with both its drivers and its passenger.”

  “When?”

  “Sometime last night.” Dodson stopped and turned to face Remko. “The passenger was Carrington Hale.”

  Remko felt like someone had socked him in the gut. He tried to play it off as simple concern for a citizen, but Dodson was perceptive and obviously already knew how Remko felt about her.

  “Not that I approve, but I know the two of you were close.”

  “What hap . . . hap . . .” The word stuck in Remko’s throat, wedged between his panic and his urgency.

  “She left Authority Knight’s home last night roughly two hours after sunset and never showed up at her house. Neither did the CityWatch vehicle nor the two guards escorting her home. I have men searching through all the city’s street cameras now to see if we caught a glimpse of them.”

  “The GPS . . .”

  “Tried that. It was switched off at the edge of town, just before the intersection of Ferry and Southside, which means whoever did this knew what they were doing. The guards’ chips were discovered out in the Cattle Lands, but still no sign of the guards themselves.”

  “And Carrington?”

  “Nothing so far.”

  Remko thought about the last time he had seen her. He remembered the pain in her eyes, the frailness of her figure, as if she hadn’t eaten or slept in days. He’d noticed the mark on her cheek, barely showing through her makeup but obvious to someone who had studied her every feature. He remembered the way her shoulder had felt under his hand. She hadn’t even struggled against him; her body just wanted to show that she thought executing Arianna like the worst of criminals was wrong. She hadn’t been the only one.

  “Against my better judgment, and only because I need my best on this, I’m going to bring you in to help,” Dodson said. “But, Remko, she is the fiancée of a council member. One wrong move and you’re out. And I don’t just mean out of the investigation. Understand?”

  Remko nodded and followed Dodson back to the car, Carrington’s tearful face still hovering behind his eyes.

  Carrington felt something tickle her cheek and slowly opened her eyes. Bright light and golden strands danced into view. That was odd. For some reason she had expected there to be darkness. She shrugged off her sleepy fog and ran her hand along the golden rods flowing across her vision. They were rougher than they looked and ran to the floor. When she reached it and it was cool and moist, Carrington realized it wasn’t a floor at all, but dirt.

  She sat up and felt a soft breeze kiss her skin and skip across her shoulders. All around her the tall golden rods swayed with the wind. Trees in tight patches stood every few yards in the distance, but all around her was golden grass.

  Something felt strange and fuzzy in her brain, like she was supposed to remember a detail she couldn’t quite grasp, or like she should know something she didn’t.

  The breeze felt perfect blowing against her, and the grass made her feel safe and protected. But she did notice that she was alone. Maybe she wanted to be alone and that’s what she was supposed to remember.

  “Dreams are funny that way,” a man said. Carrington turned around and saw Aaron sitting on a stump, a long strand of golden grass sticking out of one corner of his mouth.

  The moment she saw his face the memories of reality came rushing back like a storm. Being left alone at Isaac’s house, discovering his hidden killing room, being bound, being knocked unconscious. She looked around at the beautiful field and understood that she wasn’t actually here, just dreaming. The fear came rushing back too, the terror that gripped her heart hard enough to nearly stop it. Maybe she wasn’t dreaming at all; maybe she was just dead.

  “Am I dead?” Carrington asked, suddenly sure his answer would be yes.

  “Not yet,” Aaron said.

  “Am I going to die?”

  “Yes, we are all going to die.”

  “I don’t want to die.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m afraid.”

  “Fear is an illusion.”

  “You sound like Arianna.”

&
nbsp; Aaron started to chuckle, low at first, but as he continued it grew until he was folded over, his arms wrapped around his stomach, laughing loud enough to wake anything close by. His laugh was infectious and Carrington couldn’t help but join in. A slight giggle turned to full-on laughter and she fell to her side. Aaron slapped his knee to emphasize that he thought what she had said was quite humorous indeed.

  “I don’t know why you thought that was so funny,” Carrington said when her laughter finally diminished.

  “There is joy in everything if you are looking at it correctly.”

  Carrington thought through the current state of affairs in her life and saw nothing remotely joyful. She yanked a bunch of grass from the ground beside her and started pulling it into smaller pieces. “I’m not sure that’s true,” she said.

  Aaron jumped off his stump and walked toward her. “That’s because you don’t know who you are.”

  “How can you say that? You don’t even know me.”

  “Yes, I do.” He sat cross-legged in the grass beside her. “I know that you are perfect, that you are chosen, that you are free.”

  Carrington huffed and threw her shredded grass into the wind. “I’m none of those things.”

  “Then what are you?”

  She drew a circle in the dirt with her finger. “Not much. But it’s okay. I’ve accepted it.”

  “I see. And what would you say to the little girl who gave you that flower? Would you tell her to accept the fact that she is worth nothing?”

  “No—I didn’t say that . . .”

  “And Larkin? Is she worth so little as well? What about Arianna?”

  “Of course not!”

  “And Warren, or your mother, or your father?”

  “I was only talking about me.”

  “So . . . only you?”

  “Yes, only me.”

  “Who says?”

  Carrington dropped her eyes back to the ground and saw an image of Isaac snarling in the darkness there. “He owns me.”

  “He doesn’t have to. You have power inside you.”

  “People keep telling me that, but it doesn’t do me any good. I don’t know how to use it. I am bound to him. There is still a law and it says I am his!”

  “The laws of men are silly little things.” Aaron chuckled again.

  Carrington felt herself becoming angry. “They are real and I have to live by them.”

  “Say you are free and you will be.”

  “No—it’s not that simple!”

  “You’re right. First you have to believe it. Believe you are free and you will be.”

  “How can that be true?”

  “Because your Father says so, and because of who you are.”

  Tears pooled in Carrington’s eyes and she pushed herself up off the grass. “Who am I?” Her scream echoed in the open field.

  “His daughter,” Aaron said. She turned to see Aaron standing a couple feet away, the bright sun lighting his face. “His perfect, beautiful daughter.”

  “I’m not. I’ve tried to be, but I’ve failed my father.”

  “Not your earthly father, but the One who created you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “He has given you such power and calls you perfect.” Aaron smiled.

  Carrington shook her head. “You’re wrong. Like I said, I’m none of those things.”

  “You are.” Aaron moved toward her and she took a step back.

  “How can I be what you say?” Carrington couldn’t hold back the rush of tears and they ran down her cheeks like rivers.

  Aaron reached her and brushed her tears back with both thumbs. “Because He loves you. Because He loves you like no one else does.”

  Carrington’s head fell onto Aaron’s shoulder and she wept. Her tears soaked his shirt and he held her close, gently stroking her hair. “Please don’t let the thing He loves so much be fooled by darkness.”

  Suddenly Carrington felt like she was choking. She pulled away from Aaron and coughed against the sky. Water trickled over her lips and down her chin. The light turned dark as she coughed up a mouthful of water. She reached for Aaron, but he wasn’t there anymore. Nothing was there. The field, the trees, the wind, all of it was gone.

  She snapped her head forward and water fell into her lap, soaking her dress. She opened her eyes to a dark cellar. The smell of dust and mold lingered on the damp air. Carrington turned her neck to see another girl nearby, hands strung above her head, her chin buried in her chest, barely breathing.

  A smack echoed off the concrete floor and she moved her head to see a bucket rolling away from someone’s feet—someone tall whose figure was outlined by the single bulb swinging from the ceiling above her.

  The figure bent down and grabbed Carrington’s jaw with a single hand.

  “Time to find salvation, my dear.”

  35

  Water dripped off Carrington’s lips and she coughed up more of the liquid. Her face was drenched, her hair soaked. The shoulders of her dress were wet through to her skin. She shivered in the cold dungeon and longed to be back in the warm field with Aaron.

  “I apologize for the excess of water; you were not responding,” Isaac said. He had moved to the long table that stood against the wall. His back was to her and he was busy with the contents of the tabletop. She heard a soft splash as his hands moved about.

  “You should have known better than to sneak into places you don’t belong,” Isaac said.

  “People will come looking for me,” Carrington said. The corners of her mouth hurt when she moved her lips. They were cracked and dried from being held open by the gag.

  “I doubt it. People seem to think that the CityWatch vehicle escorting you home vanished.”

  “You’re a monster.”

  “You keep calling me that and it hurts my heart. Once you are redeemed from your sin, you will see me in my true form.” Isaac turned, holding a jug filled with liquid. He whispered something over the contents and reached back to grab a funnel off the table. He walked toward the broken girl chained beside Carrington and knelt.

  “What are you doing?” Carrington asked. Isaac ignored her and took the girl’s head in his hand, tilting it upward so her chin was pointed toward him.

  “Stop. You’re hurting her.”

  Isaac exhaled loudly, placed the container on the floor, and slid over to Carrington. He reached for the cloth that had been her gag.

  She shook her head. “No, please . . .”

  He stuffed the rough binding into her mouth and secured it behind her head. Then he moved back to his original task.

  He placed the funnel between the girl’s lips and closed his eyes. “Lord of sacrifice and redemption, I present to You according to Your holy plan a worthless child in need of Your salvation. Save her from this cleansing if You see fit.”

  He began to pour the liquid into the funnel.

  The girl barely struggled. Carrington yanked at her restraints and screamed through her muzzle. Hot tears stung her eyes as she shook her head in disbelief. He was poisoning her, draining bleach into the girl’s throat; she could smell the toxic fumes from where she sat.

  Isaac was murdering the Lint girl. Why? For some holy plan he believed he was fulfilling.

  How many girls had he held here in this prison while she had walked and talked and eaten with Isaac up above? Had they tried to cry out for help? Could she have heard them if she had truly seen the kind of beast Isaac was?

  “Stop! Stop!” she yelled, but it only came out in fuzzy huffs and Isaac didn’t even turn. Slowly he drained the last of the liquid into the funnel and then pulled it from the girl’s mouth. Her head swung down, bobbing on her neck, a round of frantic coughs echoing off the walls. She heaved and vomited nothing but clear liquid onto her lap and a string of it hung from her lips and dripped onto her chest.

  Carrington was filled with rage and lost control. She yanked and pulled, tearing her body back and forth away from the post to which she was
bound. She wailed through her gag, aware that it was useless. Violently, she shook and fought, praying that with enough effort she could break free and drive the first sharp object she found into Isaac’s chest.

  Something pricked her arm and she tried to move away from the pain. Isaac held a syringe in his hand, and before she could respond her body started to feel fuzzy.

  “Just something to calm you down,” he said. “You’ll hurt yourself flailing about like that.” He moved to her mouth and pulled on her gag. “I’m going to remove this. Don’t make me put it back in.” He removed the cloth from her mouth and her lips tingled when they touched. Everything tingled—her legs, feet, waist, arms, hands, face.

  “I know seeing the cleansing process for the first time can be alarming. I should have warned you first.”

  “You poison them.” Carrington struggled to hold her head up and shook the dizzy state out of her eyes.

  “I’m cleansing them from the inside out—this one and all the others. Seven days of cleansing to rid them of their sins. I’m offering them salvation.”

  “You’re murdering them.”

  He frowned. “It’s not murder. I’m trying to save them.”

  “And how many have you saved?”

  “God chooses who will be saved. None have proven worthy so far.”

  “You murder them in the name of God?”

  “Enough!” Isaac scratched his head with both hands and shuddered. “You will see the light and join me on the path of holiness. You will be my partner. Together we will cleanse the world. We will serve God and follow the way of the Veritas.”

  Carrington felt her eyes growing heavy and she strained to keep them open. Aaron’s words echoed in her head. “You have power inside you.”

  “I will never be yours.”

  Isaac turned from her and walked to the table. He paced back and forth, then turned and struck the table leg with a swift kick. It cracked and bent, but the table remained standing. “She doesn’t know what she’s saying. It will take her time to see.”