The Maiden (The Cloister Trilogy 1) - Page 3

“I said come.”

There it is again, a flare of defiance, but she buries it and slips her small hand into mine. Something flaps in my chest, its wings dry and brittle, the feathers rotted and the bones showing through. Interesting.

The others begin filing in, the Spinners washing the girls’ feet as the men wait, their claws desperate for the soft touch of new flesh.

I pull my Maiden through to the Banquet Hall. The Spinners decorated it for the ceremony, white fabric covering the tables, hanging from the wooden rafters, and draped all along the platform at the front of the room. The familiar throne sits at one end of the stage, the gaudy velvet cushions better suited to a seedy champagne room. Candles burn in the black wrought-iron chandeliers overhead, the faux antiques mixed with modern equivalents and electric lights. After all, this is a show.

My father’s booming voice echoes into the room, the dark corners greedily devouring his words. “Welcome, Maidens. Welcome to your new home.” He strides in, all eyes on him, just the way he likes it. “Every need you have will be met. Only you, the Spinners, and the Protectors are allowed into the sacred space of the Cloister. Each of you will be assigned a room and given tasks to further your service to God. But more about that later. First, we celebrate your arrival!”

He struts down the center aisle, the Maidens following him, their eyes downcast. My Maiden seems to forget herself and lifts her chin, watching the scene as if she isn’t part of it. I disavow her of any such notion by thrusting her into the line of Maidens. She stumbles, then rights herself, falling into line and walking toward the front of the room.

My father takes the first girl’s hand and leads her up the three steps to the white platform. He waits as all the Maidens rise and take their places. Lambs patiently waiting for their throats to be cut. I stand in the shadows as the other men line up, practically salivating.

“Why’d you swap?” Noah sidles up to me.

“Not sure.” I focus on my Maiden, her hands folded in front of her.

My father sermonizes on the tale of Esther, his voice having long ago fallen to nothing more than background noise for me.

“She’s got a strange look.” Noah stuffs his hands into his pockets, resigned to our father’s yearly song and dance. “I was almost looking forward to her.”

“She’s just another idiot. Like all these. Eating up Dad’s lies and asking for another serving.”

He sighs, but doesn’t comment on my blasphemy. “I don’t know if I’m up for another year of this. I’m spending so much time on the money side. The Maiden duty is going to cut into that.”

“No way out of it.” I scowl at my father as he weaves his tale about old kings needing young virgins. “He says this is a perk, you know? Giving us women like this. But it’s just a chore. Another fucking job to be done.”

“One that doesn’t pay off. At least not for us.” He shakes his head.

“No shit.” I cross my arms over my chest, my gaze wandering back to my Maiden. Her hair covers her face in delicate curtains, her hands clutching each other as if she knows something bad is coming.

She has no idea.

“And so, to honor the Lord our God, I shall give each of you your new names. In the light of love, and of rebirth, you must come to me as a child.” My father strides to the throne and sits, an indulgent smile on his face. “Come to me.” He motions the first girl to him.

She walks over, eager to please him.

“Remove your garment, my dear, and I shall receive you as a child and give you the name that God intended for you.” He licks his lips. The wolves circle closer to the stage.

The girl blinks. “Naked?”

“Yes. You are being reborn. All children come into this world innocent and naked.” My father states it as if it’s perfectly normal to ask a young woman to strip in front of him and a bunch of strangers.

But the girl is under his spell. She truly believes that what he’s saying is right. Slowly, she lifts her shift, revealing a patch of dark hair between her thighs and full breasts with brown nipples.

That’s my father’s gift—he can tell a crowd of ten thousand to stop drinking milk, start taking vitamins, stop vaccinating their kids, start wearing more pink, and they will do it. He can make the absurd seem reasonable. People believe he has a direct line to God. And why do they believe that? Because he told them. His gift manifests in many ways, the yearly crop of virgins at Heavenly Ministries being one of them.

Tags: Celia Aaron The Cloister Trilogy Erotic
Source: readsnovelonline.net
readsnovelonline.net Copyright 2016 - 2024