Page 49 of Cruel Games

I thought about how he would terrorize people in the streets, walking them four at a time. He would even sic them on those he felt had slighted his fragile ego. What an utter bastard. I hoped prison had been hard on him.

The kennels turned out to be a stone building in the distance, set within a paved courtyard. A relieved breath slid from my lips at having avoided a panic attack. One or two dogs were fine, but for reasons I couldn’t fathom, they liked to gather around me in parks and bark their heads off. It never failed to terrify.

“Just a little further.” Kendrick pointed at another tall hedge.

It led to a pond beyond which stood a one-story, stone chapel with an arched window in the front and a matching entranceway. Its gable roof reminded me of the letter ‘A’ except splayed out to create a vast overhang on both sides of the building.

“That’s pretty,” I said.

“Would you believe Lord Liddell used to sermonize here when he was a young vicar? Elizabeth says she’s going to have it rebuilt to match the academy’s architecture as soon as she becomes the lady of the manor.”

I didn’t comment. From what I knew of the girl, she seemed preoccupied with outward appearances. We had that in common, I supposed, but I would never try to make someone feel bad for not looking like me.

The chapel’s interior consisted of rows of wooden pews separated by a wide aisle, with windows running down the length of the building.

Among pews occupied by staff, students, and faculty, I found Elizabeth in the front with three younger boys who I guessed were her new knights. She turned around and chatted with Myra and a few other girls I recognized from the common room.

My gaze skipped over her to the other side of the chapel, where Mr. Burgh sat with Mrs. Campbell, Mr. McGarr, and the other red-haired man who was probably his brother.

“Do you want to sit with your grandfather?” whispered Kendrick.

Butterflies took flight in my stomach at the reminder of having a grandparent, and warmth filled my chest. We would have dinner tonight in his private quarters, and I couldn’t wait.

With a shake of my head, I murmured, “Let’s stay at the back.”

As we took our seats, an elegantly dressed woman wearing a long, black coat strode past in a cloud of Coco Chanel. Each step of her Manolo Blahniks echoed through the church hall, making everyone turn around. Her hair was cut in a layered pixie style with chestnut highlights that looked as high maintenance as her outfit. She continued down the aisle, gave Mr. Burgh a nod of acknowledgment, and took a seat next to Elizabeth.

The vicar wore an outfit that could have been stolen from the Matrix, except with a clerical collar. I smiled, wondering what he would say.

After we sang, He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands, the vicar launched into a round of prayers and started his sermon. “Now, we’ve all heard the Parable of the Prodigal Son, but what does it actually mean?”

My stomach hardened. We all sat through Religious Education the first three years of secondary school. I hoped this sermon wasn’t going where I suspected.

The priest explained the story where the youngest of two sons demanded an early inheritance to make his way in the world, but he squandered it and returned destitute. Despite the original slight, the father welcomed him with open arms, a fine suit of clothes, and a huge party, much to the annoyance of the older brother who had stayed behind to work hard.

The vicar explained as much then added, “Not all prodigals are sons. Some daughters leave home to fall from grace, and some fall under the noses of their very fathers.”

Every ounce of blood fled my face and rushed through my speeding heart. The priest was talking about Mother. Or me. I turned my gaze to the front right, where Mr. Burgh and Mrs. Campbell leaned into each other, seeming to have a whispered disagreement.

From the way she wagged her finger under his nose, she was warning him against some rash action.

If my grandfather was anything like me, he wanted to drop-kick the judgmental, shade-throwing vicar.

“Remember One-Corinthians, chapter six, verse eighteen: ‘Flee from sexual immorality. All other sins a person commits are outside the body, but whoever sins sexually, sins against their own body.’”

Blood raced through my veins and surged through my ears. My hands curled into fists. If I rushed at the vicar and punched him in the face, I’d embarrass Mr. Burgh and confirm that the sermon was about Mother and me.

“As it is said in Leviticus twenty-one verse nine, ‘If a priest’s daughter defiles herself by becoming a prostitute, she disgraces her father; she must be burned in the fire.’”

A few of the younger girls whimpered. I glowered at Kendrick, who stared straight ahead, stony-faced. Of all the places we could have gone together on Sunday, it had to be where Elizabeth could humiliate me a second time.

Up at the front, Elizabeth leaned into her mother and whispered something. The woman turned around and raised her head, presumably looking for this daughter who had fallen into prostitution.

As soon as Lady Liddell turned back to the front, I rose from my seat, opened the door, and walked out of the chapel. That was even lower than Elizabeth’s after-dinner presentation on Monday. I wondered what the bible said about using its texts to help wealthy people settle scores.

The wind blew through my hair, cleansing me of the vicar’s toxic words. I sucked in a deep breath and strode back toward the hedges that led to the academy. If Kendrick dared to approach me, I would slam my fist into his face.

“Lilah, wait!” he shouted.