Tilting my head back, I stick my tongue out, waiting for what he promised us would be the best part of the ritual, the blood of the Divine. He tightens his fist, and a few warm drops land on my tongue. The rusty, metallic taste flows over my taste buds and makes its way down my throat. A few more drops, and he shuts my mouth closed.
“Now, swallow the blood of the Divine.” His eyes are heated as he surveys my expressions with a close watch.
I hold back my gags. Nausea swirls in my stomach as I gulp the blood down, along with the bile threatening to release itself from me at the reality of what I am drinking.
He smiles, pleased with my acceptance. Like a convention line, he rounds the line, giving each of us his blood.
As he goes to give Mrs. Calloway her portion of blood, she gags when the first drop hits her tongue. Samuel backs away as she dry heaves a few more times. Her watery eyes scan the circle.
“Mrs. Calloway, does the Divine not please you?”
“No. No, I’m okay.” She wipes her mouth with her arm. “Please. Allow me another try.”
“Very well.” Samuel looks to her husband, whose face is covered with annoyance.
He raises his fist again, squeezing his hand tighter as the steady beat of drops covers her tongue, then closes her mouth. Worry instantly washes over her face. “Now swallow, Mrs. Calloway. The Divine won’t give you another chance.” He holds her cheeks with one hand, clasping her mouth.
She gags a few more times.
Samuel steps back as she attempts to swallow his blood down but fails. Vomit projects out of her and splatters across the stage, the sound echoing through the all-too-silent room.
“Looks like the Divine doesn’t agree with you, Mrs. Calloway?” Samuel says in a low tone, eyes piercing through her. He motions to someone off stage with his hand. Joshua and another man appear instantly.
Samuel doesn’t speak as the men pick Mrs. Calloway up from where she is kneeling.
“Please. I pledge myself to the Divine, Mr. Donovan. Please!” Her words shriek through the room, but the man doesn’t stop as he hauls her off the stage. “Honey!” She screams to Mr. Calloway, but he turns his head away from her. Her hands, arms, and legs scramble to gain control of the hold the man has on her. “Richard!” She yells again to her husband, tears flowing down her face, but she fades off stage, her screams receding as the seconds tick on.
The sheer willpower I have to muster up right now to not stand and rush to help her is making my whole body tense.
“Mr. Calloway.” Samuel steps back to him. “You have a choice in this matter. The Divine did not reject you as it did your wife.”
Mr. Calloway is shaking, his face twitching as he looks up at Samuel from where he is on his knees, body fully exposed.
“The choice being...” Samuel inhales slowly. “You may join your wife and never return to Everton, or you may claim your spot here with the Divine. A new wife will be appointed to you. One of which the Divine has approved. Again, the choice is yours.”
Mr. Calloway’s eyes dart from Samuel to around the circle, landing on me a second or two before shooting back up to Samuel. “Can I have time to—”
“The Divine will not wait another second. They grow impatient with this whole situation. Choose, Mr. Calloway, or I will have to choose for you.”
His breaths come out shaky before he answers Samuel, “I-I sh-shall claim my place with th-the Divine, sir.” He bows his head, but his whole body looks as if it’s rejecting his choice as he shakes uncontrollably.
“That pleases the Divine, Mr. Calloway.” He places his hands on each side of his face. “That pleases them very much.” Removing his hands from him, his wounded hand leaving a blood stain on his cheek.
“Everton!” Samuel bellows, facing the crowd of people. “I would like you to welcome the new members of the Divine to our community!” He motions us to stand, and we follow those commands. “May the Divine bless them each day they walk the path to salvation!”
The crowd applauds, and we do as we practiced. We drop back to our knees and bow to the ground, bloody hands in front of us, reaching toward Samuel.
My eyes stare at the wooden floor, the grains smudged with my own blood.
“I look forward to seeing every one of you at the ceremonial feast momentarily. Please join me in our closing prayers.”
The mumbling whispers grow throughout the room. I don’t hear Samuel’s voice joining in, but then again, he didn’t join in on the opening prayers, either.
As much as I want to kill this man, this gets me one step closer to saving everyone here.
32
Eden
