Noa took a washcloth from Naomi and placed it on Beth’s forehead. Beth’s brown eyes met Noa’s. Noa’s heart clenched when Beth sucked in a sharp breath, trying to show she could be strong. And she could. She was. Noa had never met anyone as tough as Beth.
“It’s nearly over.” Noa mopped the sweat from Beth’s face and neck. Beth’s breathing calmed, and Naomi worked on closing the cuts she had made. The color began trickling back into Beth’s cheeks. Noa held her hand as Beth closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Noa could see that Beth was back.
Beth sat up, looking about the room. Her eyes fell on Naomi carrying the bowls of blood into the hallway. Her cheeks reddened with ire. She clenched her teeth and took deep breaths. When a few minutes of mediation had passed, Beth opened her eyes again. “Did everything go okay?”
Noa nodded, then got to her feet. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to Beth’s head. “You ready for some fun tonight?”
Beth’s gaze glittered, and she swung her legs over the bed and planted her feet on the ground. Blood stained her arm from the letting. “I’ll be ready in twenty minutes.”
“You need food and a soda before you even try to get ready,” Noa said. She smiled when Naomi arrived in the doorway, holding a sandwich and a Coke. She also carried gauze and bandages in with her. Naomi placed the food and drink beside Beth. Beth tucked in, and Naomi began cleaning up Beth’s bloodied skin. Noa watched Naomi work in silence. Her redheaded sister lived most of her life in silence, the Brethren’s gift of cutting off half her tongue making her uneasy about speaking aloud. Naomi could speak; years of hard practice had made that possible. But she sounded different, and it reminded her too much of her past.
Noa’s chest relaxed, knowing her two youngest sisters were safe now. But that swirl of lava she always felt in her stomach rolled. Bethany, the youngest of them, crippled by the belief her blood was diseased, and Naomi, silent to anyone outside of her sisters.
She thought of Dinah, Candace and Jo. Then she thought of herself. Of what had been done to them all.
Witches. Heretics. Devil-worshippers.
“Noa? You okay?” She was ripped from her head by Beth.
Noa gave her a tight smile. “I’m going to get ready, then we’ll meet in the living room about tonight.” She walked quickly down the dark tunnel to her room. She opened the door, then stood still in the center. Nights like the one that lay before them always rocked her. They always tested her restraint. They always tested how far she would go to gain revenge on the Brethren.
Noa felt the skin on her torso heat up. She lifted her hand and rubbed across the brand. But it was no use. It ached because, tonight, she would be faced with the Brethren again. Noa moved to the only mirror in her room—a small, cracked little thing. Lifting the hem of her black leather top, she brought it over her head, removed her bra, then stared at the reminder of who she was and what had been done to her.
A pentagram, framed by a circle, the symbol of witches. Then, in the center of the star shape, an upturned cross, and a “B” above it. The symbol of the men who had vowed to extract the evil from her soul—from all her sisters’ souls.
Noa’s eyes lost focus as she was propelled back to the past. To the lair in which they were kept. To the fire licking at her skin. The water filling her lungs. The elements that the Brethren wanted to use against their pagan souls.
The twins. And worst … Father Auguste.
Noa snapped her eyes open and let ice fill her veins. She and her sisters had work to do tonight. She gathered her long pink hair back and fixed it in a French braid. She pulled her leather top back on and fastened her hood and scarf in place, leaving them around her neck until they left the tunnels and her face had to be hidden.
She walked down the tunnel to the main room. When she walked through the door, all her sisters were dressed the same as she was and ready to go. Her gaze fell to Beth and Naomi. Beth stood in all black leather, braid in place, taser and knives in hand as if she hadn’t just been writhing on her bed, convinced her blood was poisoning her internal organs.
Naomi stood beside Beth, hair and clothes the same as everyone else’s.
“Noa,” Dinah said, and Noa took up her place beside her. For the past couple of years, it had been Dinah at the helm, Noa her right hand. They couldn’t have been more different. If Dinah was a calm and steady sea, Noa was the oncoming storm, made of crashing waves and unrelenting tides. Candace and Joanna were the brains, the intelligence, the thinking part of their sisterhood. Beth and Naomi were the hearts. The two that reminded Noa that there was still sweetness and good in the world when all she had tasted was bitterness and sourness.
Dinah leaned on the table they had all gathered around. This was their War Room, Dinah joked, giving a nod to the War of Independence spies that would have gathered hundreds of years ago in this very spot, plotting against the British. But Noa and her sisters’ enemies were a lot less overt than the British Army had been. Their war was being fought in secret, only six of them against what they knew were thousands in a dangerous secret sect. Seven of us, Noa corrected herself. Because there was one more sister that made up the Coven, as Father Auguste and his Witch Finder Generals had nicknamed Noa and her sisters years ago, branding their chests with pentagrams in mocking and ridicule. Seven sisters who had cried and screamed together as they were relentlessly tested and tried.
But where Noa, Dinah, Candace, Jo, Naomi and Beth had found a path that helped them heal somewhat as they tried to bring down the Brethren in a less bloodthirsty way, Priscilla was on her own path, one of destruction and death—revenge served cold and brutal.
Dinah had a map on the table with five locations marked with small rocks. “There are five of them,” Dinah said. “All in close proximity, each holding one or more boys.”
Noa crossed her arms over her chest as she glared at those rocks. Dinah nudged her chin at Noa. Noa stepped up to the table. “We move fast. One after the other.” She looked to Candace. “You’re driving, as always. Jo is on lookout.” Noa nodded at Beth and Naomi. “You two get the victims out.” She glanced at Dinah.
“We’ll take care of the priests,” Dinah said. “Questions?”
“The victims? They’re going to Katie?” Candace asked.
“For now,” Dinah said. “There’s no more room there, and we always knew it was temporary. We need to find a better solution, and fast.” Dinah moved to stand beside Noa. “The funds Noa got us tonight will go a long way toward helping with that.” But Noa knew it wasn’t only money that was a hurdle for them. It was also the people to help them, people who would take care of the kids once they were freed. People who believed them, and who wouldn’t be found by the Brethren, or worse, go to them themselves.
Noa saw the worry on her sisters’ faces—she knew it was probably a reflection of her own. This had become their purpose for living. Noa didn’t know who she was without it. None of them did. If they couldn’t save others from the Brethren, then what was the point?
“Let’s go,” Dinah said, cutting through the concerned tension in the room. Dinah led them down the tunnel and to the entrance. The second they reached the tunnel’s mouth, the sisters put their hoods over their heads, pulling the scarves over their faces so only their eyes could be seen. The frigid chill of the night bit at their leather clothes as they reached the van and climbed inside.