Benedict’s eyes stay locked on mine. He doesn’t look away. The man and woman are both trembling, low moans leaving their throats.
He continues talking.
“The evil that pursues you has no home in this sacred house. We shall burn for each other here, tonight. Flames will burn through our primal bodies, and we shall bow to her, resigning ourselves to pleasure. There is nothing more sacred. The joining sets us free. The ceremonies give us life.”
“Are they…” Zoey whispers, covering her mouth as the man and woman convulse, letting out cries that flame my cheeks and liquify my core.
“I think so,” I whisper back.
They never touch each other except for their locked hands. I’m both intrigued and mystified. Benedict raises his arms, as does the crowd, so Zoey and I follow suit. The finale crescendos, and the couple, now panting, bow to each other before pulling their clothes back on. Benedict turns and whispers to Hayes as the crowd murmurs.
“Wanker,” Zoey mutters.
I try not to laugh. “Hayes?”
“Yeah. The other one is super fit.” I glance at Benedict, but he’s distracted with Hayes. “So, his father was the priest?”
I nod, swallowing. The air is sucked out of the room as I remember Auguste in his cassock and robe.
The day we publicly outed him as a predator at one of his mass services.
He had such a following. He wassorespected. That’s why he got away with what he did for so long.
“Well, it’s no wonder his son went in the completeoppositedirection then.”
The crowd quiets, and Benedict ambles to the front of the stage again.
“The two creation stories at the start of Genesis were heavily influenced by Pagan writings from Mesopotamia; the transition between the two sources occurs at Genesis 2:4. Thus the heavens and the earth were completed in all their vast array.” He looks away briefly—but then his eyes snap back up to mine. “The man said, ‘This is now bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh. She shall be called ‘woman,’ for she was taken out of man.’”
My knees buckle and I find myself taking a small step forward again. Goosebumps erupt across my skin. It’s like he’s talking tome.Why? The bigger question is, how is he able to command my emotions like this so many years later? I never felt a single thread of connection with him before. In fact, I abhorred him for what his father did to me. At least that’s what I told myself. And when people asked, that’s what I told them. But as I look at him, I realize it was all a lie, because there’s no way I could feel nothing before, and everything now.
I’d buried my feelings, and every emotion was crashing into me like I was returning home.
I’d once told Lily that life after being rescued was like treading water in a deep, dark pool. I had no time for people who stood on the sidelines and yelled questions to me—who wouldn’t swim in the water with me. I was sick of placating the media, of boring small talk. I didn’t want anyone in my water—I’d rather be alone, forever. What I never realized until now was that Benedict was the pool I was swimming in. His support was the entire reason I was here—I never realized it before, because I was too busy trying not to drown.
He looks at me again and suddenly there’s a pull, a tingling sensation going through me. My chest expands as I take a few quick breaths.
“I cannot speak for other men and women, but I certainly do not think this is how the bible was intended to be written. It should be the other way around. Men were plucked from the ribs of women. Think about it. They have the power to create life. Theynourishlife, by themselves, with no help from anyone. For years, both in the womb and at the breast. WomenareGod. What are men but a single rib, an afterthought, something needed for a minute and nothing more?Theyneeded a helpmate. You’re telling me that women were created from men? Bull-fucking-shit.”
The crowd chants, and Benedict raises his arms to encourage them.
“Hands up to the goddess,” he murmurs along with the crowd. “We are all here for a different reason. We were all scorned by some sort of societal or religious facet. Or a person,” he adds, his voice quieter. “I promise, as your Director, I am here to welcome you.” He pauses for a few seconds, his eyes wandering around the room, commanding the attention of every single person here.
“Salvation is a tricky thing. Sometimes people are broken so badly that they become unbreakable. You can try for days, weeks, months. You can dig deeper than you ever have, claw your way through the darkness to save another person, to be strong when all you want to do is break. But sometimes, people don’t need a knight in shining armor. They need a sword. Make sure you can give them the sword.” He looks down. “The pillars of this house will set us free.”
“The pillars of this house will set us free,” the crowd chants.
“That’s all for tonight.”
He turns to walk away, heading for the door at the back of the stage. I see Hayes follow him, and before I know what I’m doing, I’m pushing against the mass of people beginning their exit, making my way to the raised platform.
“Evelyn, what the hell?” Zoey calls from behind me.
“One sec,” I respond, holding out a hand. “I’ll be right back.”
I elbow my way to the front of the crowd. Without thinking, I push the back door open. Before me is a large, windowless room at the back of the theater. I don’t see Benedict or Hayes anywhere. Panic rises in my throat, and before I can figure out why I’m having this reaction, another door opens and Benedict walks through. His eyes find mine and he marches to where I’m standing, frozen. I reach up and pull off my mask, waiting to see his shocked face.
Except he continues walking past me.
