Into the Light (The Light #1)

by Aleatha Romig

  I understood why she wasn’t allowed to see, at least not yet. Just because the psychology made sense didn’t mean I approved. Taking a wife had been my duty, responsibility, and obligation to The Light. I’d seen and agreed with the process in the past—but that had been in theory and from a distance. This was up close and personal.

  I’d known that eventually my time would come. I’d hoped it wouldn’t, that I could avoid it, but refusing a wife when she was presented wasn’t an option. Taking on this responsibility cemented my bond to The Light and solidified my standing in the community. My compliance and cooperation assured Father Gabriel, the Commission, and the Assembly of my faithfulness.

  My gaze darted to Sara’s face. Her hand had just clamped into a tight ball within my grasp. Though I couldn’t see her eyes, her lower lip blanched from the tight hold of her teeth. Damn, she’d bite clean through it if she didn’t stop putting it in that vise grip. I’d seen the drops of blood earlier today when I’d returned her to her bed. At least this time, I wasn’t the cause of her lip-biting. This reaction was caused by the movement of the bed as Dr. Newton reclined it. I guessed it was the damn broken rib or ribs. Why Raquel hadn’t rewrapped it after Sara’s shower, I didn’t know. I would say something, but then she’d probably be corrected. They might even decide to replace her as Sara’s main caregiver. I didn’t want that.

  What I wanted was for that horrible dark bruise, those shades of purple and green, to go away. Seeing it when I’d lifted her nightgown had been like experiencing the kick all over again. The reverberations had sent shock waves through both of us. Maybe I didn’t want to see her eyes. The pain she felt, when the bed reclined or when I lifted her, seeped from her pores and filled the room with its stench.

  Doesn’t Dr. Newton realize what he’s doing?

  I glanced up, but he wasn’t looking at me.

  He was looking at her.

  My teeth rattled as I clamped them tight and assessed his expression. He was the community’s sole physician, and I expected to see compassion and the desire to heal in his face. Instead images of Dr. Mengele popped into my thoughts.

  What kind of doctor participates in the things Dr. Newton does without reservation?

  I might not have signed up for this mission, but, damn it, Sara was now my wife.

  Who the hell am I kidding?

  I was as responsible as Dr. Newton, if not more. Not for all the other women who’d come to the community in this same way, but for Sara. When the Commission explained what needed to be done, I didn’t question. Orders were orders. I obeyed them as well as gave them. That’s how I’d advanced as fast as I had within the community—I understood rules and procedures. The Light wasn’t that different from the military. My training there served me well, and my experience in the army created the perfect history for a faithful follower.

  Dr. Newton spoke, refocusing my attention. “I’m going to unbutton your gown to better see your injuries.”

  Though she nodded, I reapplied the pressure to my poor teeth. I’d be lucky if they weren’t splinters of enamel by the time this was done. Dr. Newton started at the top button of her nightgown, near the neckline, and worked his way down. He’d managed to unfasten a few buttons when I let go of her hand and pushed his away. I’d seen under her gown and knew she wasn’t wearing a bra.

  Her breasts may have been smaller than I preferred, but they were pleasantly round and firm. Earlier, in the bathroom, probably due to the temperature, I’d noticed how her nipples hardened and how the pink around them darkened.

  It didn’t matter if they were small or large: they were mine. I also knew damn well that they hadn’t been injured during her accident, and Newton knew that too. He’d examined her before. There was no reason for him to see her breasts again. Loosening my clenched jaw, I said, “Her injuries are lower. I’ll help you.” I wanted to say more, but Sara didn’t need to listen to a pissing contest above her exposed body.

  The good doctor’s hands went up willingly in surrender, but the smirk on his face once again made my jaw go rigid. The arrogant ass. There was no way in hell he would ever examine her without me present. I wouldn’t allow it. If I had to petition the Commission, I would. They wanted me to take having a wife seriously, and I was.

  Taking a deep breath, I refastened the gown’s top buttons and undid the ones starting at the bottom. Sara’s exposed skin dotted with goose bumps as I laid the fabric of her nightgown aside. With the blankets down, she was now visible from her toes to past her navel. All the right parts were covered. No doubt in the dark, the world outside The Light, she’d worn less on a beach than what she wore now as panties. That didn’t matter. When she’d been in the dark she hadn’t been my wife. Now she was, and having Newton’s eyes on her pissed me off.

  I held my tongue and concentrated on her cast. The damn thing went halfway up her left thigh. Since only her tibia was broken, the cast could easily have stopped below her knee. It was one more piece of the psychological warfare, part of the plan to wear her down, take away her abilities, and make her dependent. The more physical limitations she endured, the easier it was to instill psychological limitations.

  The Light had a job, a calling. Its original followers had been predominantly male. Father Gabriel’s teachings originated from fundamentalist roots. Women were appreciated for the strength through which they fulfilled their duties—and because men had needs. According to Father Gabriel’s teachings, those needs were best served by wives. While some women found their way to The Light of their own volition, others—like Sara—were acquired. The acquisition and indoctrination process was in a continual state of revision. Each case was gauged by its success or failure. Though the entire community participated in the acquisition, ultimately it was the participants in each acquisition who were responsible for the outcome. In our case that would be Sara and me. Because I was her husband, my role was infinitely important. The only road to my continued success within The Light was through her.

  I took Sara’s hand again in mine. We will not fail. The mantra repeated like a chant in the recesses of my mind. I’d witnessed failure, and I’d labored too long to allow that to be my end. Though Sara’s hand trembled, I refused to let emotion cloud my objective. We would succeed.

  “Squeeze your husband’s hand when I touch a place that hurts.”

  The asshole went for the epicenter, directly above the broken ribs. As he did, Sara moaned and squeezed with all her might, before clamping her lips tightly together.

  “There,” I said, looking up to the doctor’s raised brows.

  “You broke at least one rib in your accident,” he explained.

  Her lip was back between her teeth as she nodded her understanding.

  “There isn’t much that can be done. We’ll have to wait. They’ll heal in time. Now what about here?” The doctor continued his exercise until he’d discussed her broken ribs, broken leg, and possible concussion. He explained that her cheek had hit the steering wheel of the truck. If she could have seen herself in a mirror, she’d have known that wasn’t the case, but she seemed to take the doctor at his word. Touching her tender throat, he asked again if she had pain. Her squeeze was softer than before.

  “Does that mean that it doesn’t hurt there as much as before?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  “I believe you’ll be able to talk within a day or two,” Dr. Newton said. “Tomorrow or Friday we’ll remove this cast and set a new one that’ll allow you to walk. Your bone was broken, but luckily not severely. It didn’t break the skin. That’ll help with your recovery.”

  “What about food and drink?” I asked.

  “How are you feeling now?” he asked her. “Did you handle the lunch OK?”

  She nodded.

  “Another day of bland and then we’ll reevaluate.”

  “I want to take her home.” I’d agreed to accept the Commission’s and Father Gabriel’s power, but I didn’t like Newton’s. I’d seen too many things over the past thre
e years that I’d been at the Northern Light. In my opinion even the Commission didn’t fully trust him—if they did, he’d be part of the Assembly.

  “We’ll need to watch how she adapts to the walking cast and alert the Commission. Where she goes from here is ultimately their decision.”

  By the way she flinched at his last statement, the process was working. She was beginning to understand how much the Commission ultimately controlled. Tomorrow at Assembly they’d ask, and I’d be honest. I’m sure they’d be quite proud of themselves—the recent refinements with the indoctrination process were proving effective. The old ways produced slower results. As a member of the Assembly, I normally would’ve been pleased too, but this time was different. I wasn’t only an Assemblyman—I was her husband. The tighter Sara clung to my hand, the less content with the process I became.

  Freeing my hand, I began closing the buttons of her nightgown. As I did, Sara raised her arm and pointed to her eyes. Father Gabriel’s teachings instructed me to reprimand her, to remind her of a rule she’d never heard, that females answered questions—they didn’t question. Instead I inwardly smirked at her ingenuity. The only rule she’d been told was not to speak, and while she obeyed, she’d found a way to communicate.

  My wife was smart and resourceful. She’d learn quickly and we would succeed.

  Newton’s beady eyes widened and met mine.

  I squared my shoulders and relayed her question. “When will you be able to remove the bandages from her eyes?”

  His lips pursed. He’d probably report this to anyone who’d listen. Surely Lilith and Timothy were champing at the bit for me to fail. The way I saw it, Sara had a simple question. It wasn’t as if she demanded equality; she simply wanted to know when she might regain sight.

  “Brother,” Dr. Newton began, effectively removing her from the discussion. “As we’ve discussed, the concussion likely affected her optic nerve. Unfortunately that wasn’t the only injury to her eyes. When your truck exploded, the intense light and heat damaged her retinas. Both injuries require rest and time. I don’t foresee the bandages being removed anytime in the near future. It could easily be weeks.”

  “Thank you, Doctor. If there’s nothing else, I believe my wife needs rest.”

  I supported The Light and Father Gabriel, but as I pulled the blankets over Sara’s closed gown, I vowed to do what I could to make this easier on her. She was a person who’d lost the right to choose her future. It was now my responsibility, and I intended to do anything necessary for our survival. The stakes were too high.

  “One last thing,” Dr. Newton said. “I was informed that Sara’s schedule will be set as of tomorrow.”

  “Her schedule?”

  “Yes. She needs to be awake, dressed, and have breakfast eaten by the time you leave for Assembly.”

  My body tensed as I consciously loosened my grip on Sara’s hand. Modulating my voice, I asked, “Who informed you of this?”

  “Sister Lilith.”

  This time Sara’s grasp shuddered. She was a quick study.

  “Because . . . ,” I coaxed.

  “I don’t remember,” Dr. Newton replied flippantly, his lips sliding into a sleazy grin. Shrugging, he added, “It was something about training.”

  Training?

  I released Sara’s hand and stepped toward the door, hoping that Newton would get the hint that I wanted him out. I wanted them all out. “Thank you, I’ll be sure she’s ready in the morning. As long as you believe she’s healthy enough.” Being the only physician, Dr. Newton could provide her with a valid reason to avoid Lilith’s training, at least for a few more days.

  “From what I could tell—with my limited examination—yes, your wife is healthy enough to begin training.”

  Asshole!

  I shook my head. Clearly this was Newton’s plan. If I wouldn’t allow him full access to Sara, he’d throw her to the wolves.

  Hell no. I’d fight it.

  I opened the door and watched it shut behind the doctor, wishing it had a lock.

  In four steps I crossed the room. This small space felt like a damn cage, but I refused to leave Sara’s side. The soles of my boots created a rhythm as I paced back and forth, a habit I’d started as a teen. I processed thoughts better when I moved. I’d rather be moving in one direction, but living in this godforsaken region of Alaska, in a walled community, didn’t offer many opportunities for running. It was better in the summer, but now, with the sunlight waning, it was freezing cold. I had to hand it to Father Gabriel, though. There was nothing like being isolated in the middle of nowhere to bring people together and help form a cohesive group.

  The rush for Sara’s training didn’t make sense. Are they trying for another failure?

  From the corner of my eye, I noticed the movement of her hand and my steps stilled.

  Shit. She’d just wiped away a tear.

  What the hell am I supposed to do?

  CHAPTER 6

  Stella

  Standing outside the door to the Wayne County Morgue, I gave Dylan a strained smile.

  “Really?” I asked, shaking my head.

  “Really. I haven’t been in. If they knew for sure it was her, they wouldn’t need you. After last time I thought it might help if you weren’t alone.”

  I feigned a smile. I appreciated his help; however, having him here, holding my hand, set fire to my emotions, causing them to bubble to the top instead of remaining hidden behind a mask of indifference.

  “Thank you, Dylan. But I need to walk in there as a journalist, not a friend. I’m not sure I can take seeing my friend laid out on a large stainless table.”

  He tilted his head. “But Stella Montgomery, sleuth investigator, can?”

  “No, not really, but sleuth investigator”—I couldn’t help but smile, releasing a bit of the tension at his description—“can keep it together until she’s alone.”

  “How about you don’t have to be alone?” Holding my hand and stepping back, Dylan looked deep into my eyes, and his gaze narrowed. I knew that look. His police wheels were spinning. “You know,” he said curiously, “I raced down here as soon as Barney told me you’d left. WCJB is closer than the precinct. How did I get here before you?”

  I shrugged. “My mind’s a blur. I missed my exit and . . .” I let my voice fade to a whisper. “I found myself headed north.”

  “Tell me you didn’t go to Highland Heights.”

  I straightened my neck and set my shoulders back defensively. “Don’t. Don’t play macho policeman. If that’s Mindy in there, then they found her in that neighborhood in an abandoned house. If it’s her, I needed to see it. I need to find out who did this. That’s what I do.”

  “If, Stella. If is the imperative word. You’re putting the cart before the horse.” His mussed, dark-blond hair failed to hide his furrowed brow as he repeated his question, slower this time. “Did you go to Highland Heights alone, without telling anyone?”

  I knew that telling someone where you’re going—leaving a trail—was rule number one, but rules were meant to be broken. Sometimes moving on instinct didn’t allow for time to check in. Not appreciating his interrogation, I shook off his grip. “I just drove around, all right? I didn’t get out.”

  “Christ, are you trying to turn up missing too?”

  I’d never, in all my adult life, answered to anyone. This relationship—or whatever it was—with Dylan was still in its infancy. We were still working on our boundaries, and he’d just crossed one of mine. With heat rising to my face and my jaw clenched, I replied, “I’m not having this conversation with you in the hallway outside of the morgue. Why are you here, anyway? To lecture me on safety? Because right now I’m safe, but whoever the hell is on that table isn’t.”

  Dylan’s gaze softened. “No, I didn’t come here to lecture you. I came because last time you did this alone. I didn’t want you to do that again. I know how upsetting it was for you. I hope to God this isn’t Mindy, but if it is . . .”

&
nbsp; I sighed. “I appreciate that, I do. I just don’t need lectures right now.” I let out another long breath. “Seeing dead bodies never gets easier, at least not to me.”

  “No, it doesn’t. Each one, no matter what they did or what happened to them, was a person, someone’s kid.”

  Or sister, or brother, or best friend.

  Dylan once again grasped my hand. “Let’s get this over with. They’re ready for us.”

  I held back my tears, steeled my resolve, and nodded. Together we walked through the doors and entered the cold room, cold both in temperature and personality. The buzz of the lights combined with the offending odor threw my nerves into overdrive. Dylan’s hand became a vise as I took in the surroundings. It was the same as it’d been a week earlier, with cement walls, tile floors, and tables and countertops made of a shiny, disinfected metal.

  A young, thin woman entered from the other side of the room at the same time that we came in. I barely noticed her as I concentrated on the body, lying on a table near the far end of the room, a silhouette covered with a white sheet.

  “Thank you for coming. I’ll skip all the formalities and make this as quick as possible,” the young technician said.

  Biting my lip, I nodded.

  “We only need for you to give us your impression. You don’t need to look any longer than necessary.”

  I nodded again, fearful that if I spoke I’d taste the strange aroma hanging in the air.

  “It’s not too late,” she continued. “If you’d like to go to another room, we can do this via closed-circuit cameras. You don’t have to be in here.”

  Though bile bubbled in my throat, I released Dylan’s hand and straightened my stance. “I assure you, if this is Mindy, I do need to be here. Please continue.”

  The young woman grabbed the edge of the sheet with her blue-gloved hands and slowly lowered it. Panic ran through me when I saw blonde hair, blonde like Mindy’s, like mine. Next I saw eyes, their lids partially closed, hiding their color. Did this body have the same pale eyes that Mindy and I shared? The cheeks were bruised in various shades. And then the tech lowered the sheet past the nose and mouth and I knew. I knew.