Page 96 of A Silence So Divine

I’m careful not to touch her as we trudge up to the steps, and my footsteps slow in an effort to prolong the inevitable. I pray to whoever the fuck is listening that none of them try anything. If they were smart, they’d be too scared to make eye contact. However, if there’s one thing the Brothers all have in common, it’s their single brain cell.

The double doors swing open within a second that my knuckles make contact with the wood. A man who I vaguely recognize serves as a bouncer, clad in all black attire. There’s no clipboard, no list of names. Only a scrutinizing gaze that is quick to transform into one of shock.

Without a word, he steps aside and allows us entry. On the way past, I swear I hear mumbled prayers slipping past his lips. Good.

We work our way down a winding corridor, dimly lit by evenly spaced sconces along the walls. The closer we get, the louder the music. No lyrics or voices, just a rhythmic lull that buzzes throughout the body. It sits somewhere between sultry and demonic, which about sums up the entirety of the shindig.

We reach another set of double doors, and I hesitate before swinging them open. To avoid any nearby eavesdroppers, I sign Eden a quick reminder.

“I’m with you.”

With a clench of her jaw and a square of her shoulders, she gives me a firm nod. The likelihood of us pulling this off is balancing on the 50/50 line. And if things go poorly, well, I might sully the party with a homicide or two.

Before we can pass the threshold, the attention of the crowd is ours. A hush falls over the room, jaws fall slack. So much for remaining inconspicuous.

We’re in the same room Eden was strung up in, but it’s been transformed for the occasion. The platform’s blood stained concrete is concealed with lush black carpet and littered with female dancers. The main lights are off, leaving candles and red LED’s to illuminate only what’s necessary. It stinks, too, of incense and smoke. Between the drugs, alcohol, and bare tits, it’s as far from a God fearing event that you can get.

“Holy shit, I didn’t think he was serious,” says a voice in the crowd. Murmurs of agreement drown out Eden’s sharp breaths.

I want so badly to comfort her.

A rough smack lands on my shoulder from behind.

“There you are!” Curran boists, oblivious to the sheer panic that has taken over the room. His pupils are blown and sweat beads down his temple.

“An hour late, but you do love to make an entrance.” He motions to the onlookers. “And you’ve made a memorable one.” The bastard has the gall to wink. It takes every ounce of willpower I have to not throw Eden over my shoulder and walk back out the door.

With a clap of his hands, the music volume is lowered.

“Gentlemen! I told you we had a treat tonight!” He cocks his head for us to follow him and the crowd parts like the Red Sea. Every footstep closer to the podium is more difficult than the last; I can’t help but remember the last time we were here. That boy, Emory, neck at an impossible angle and eyes vacant. Based on Eden’s sickly pallor, I’d surmise she’s reliving that same memory.

The women on the stage scatter, a few deliberately brushing their chests against me as they strut into the crowd. They’re high, but they’re also eager to please. Curran hires desperate women, promising a shot of redemption for their souls. It’s a bunch of bullshit; they’ll be “saved” by the end of next week. He never clarifies what redemption looks like until after he gets what he wants.

“Don’t be shy now, demon,” Curran spits.

Glancing back, I realize Eden’s hesitating at the bottom step. I put as much steel into my voice as I can when I say, “Come.”

There’s a flicker of shock, and her gaze snaps to mine. What I see breaks my heart. Not because it’s hurt, or anger, or resentment. It’strust. And in this position, I can’t help but feel it’s undeserved.

Curran must recognize it as well.

“Interesting,” he mutters, studying her as she comes to stand at my side.

Everyone waits for Curran to speak with baited breath, and I’m no exception. He takes time fixing his tie, curating the perfect display of a leader. Plastering on the fakest smile I’ve ever seen, the shitshow begins.

“Welcome to our annual Night of Indulgence!” Applause ensues, bouncing off the walls and amplifying the already incredible volume. In my peripheral vision, Eden shifts even closer to me. I consider putting more distance between us, but the fear in her eyes won’t let me.

“Every year, we outdo ourselves. But this time…” His teeth glint with a dangerous smile. “We’ve surpassed even my own expectations.”

With a sweep of his arm, he motions us closer to the front of the stage and the prying eyes. I’m trying desperately to convince my brain that this is necessary. But still, when I grip her bicep, the tremble in her bones echoes in my own.

“Brother Bastien has been gifted by our Lord. A gift that even I doubted.” Raising his hand, he looks like he might touch Eden. The moment her gaze cuts to him, he freezes, and drops his arm back to his side.

“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” A whoop of agreement makes me contemplate burning the whole building to the ground. Curran hums. “Temptation in its rawest form. This little girl is nothing but a heretic, sent by the Devil himself. Would you believe I watched her blind a man with nothing but her voice?”

There’s a collective gasp, followed by an eruption of outrage.

“Now, it is my belief that the Lord has led her to us for a purpose. What better tool to tame Darkness than with Darkness itself? With her, we will conquer the Damned once and for all. And then,” Like a leech, his eyes roam over Eden’s body. Greedy. Hungry. “We will conquer our conqueror.”