Page 15 of Remorseless Sinner

With a grinding saw-like sound, I heard one of the mechanical arms come down from the ceiling, each Eye at the tip of it blinking with an uneasy intensity.

Then another detached.

And they all came down from the ceiling, swirling around Saul in an astonishing display of the blessing of the Eye.

At first the massive metallic arms were slow and jerky, then they began to swirl around Saul’s head and body, never touching, but making a satisfied hum and he raised his arms as I gaped up at him in astonishment.

I couldn't understand it.

Who could think he was truly a believer? He had his arms crossed, the fabric tight against his massive chest, and there was something casting a shadow over me, a thick bulge below his belt that made me tremble in fear.

Tears started to the corners of my eyes, clumping in my lashes and falling down my cheeks.

“It is done,” they said to Saul, in the ceremonial words.

“It is good,” he replied, and I swallowed my bitter retort, looking down through blurry eyes and wishing there was a way to escape.

“Now for the final step of the wedding ceremony,” Pastor Mickelson said. “The ceremonial Watering of the Boot to demonstrate a wife’s devotion to her husband.”

Devotion? To my awful stepbrother?

And I absolutely didnotwant to water his boot.

This was supposed to be a special tradition in my religion, and I had always imagined that I would water the boot, but ofsomeonedifferent, maybe a man with golden blonde hair and a kind smile.

Thinking of William make the tears come even faster, streaming down my face.

Now it could never be.

I wanted someone who was a preacher or a teacher, or a librarian, someonegood. Not someone likeSaul, who stood there in his dark suit and tattoos, looking like the very Devil himself.

What was to become of me, wife of the Devil?

I didn’t know how he had fooled the Congregation, but he hadn’t fooled me.

When I didn’t move, Mom jabbed me in the back with her sharp nails, urging me closer on my knees to where Saul stood motionless.

“Gracie, it is important that you must water his boot or the ceremony will not be complete,” my mother hissed.

“We have entertained such wickedness in the church,” Pastor Mickelson thundered, “that she would not immediately clean the boot of her new husband.”

For a moment, I looked to Saul for help, but from what I saw in his eyes, he had not forgiven me for what had happened.

How had I ever thought I had escaped from him? How had I ever been foolish enough to think that maybe he had sailed to a new country?

Instead, he was back and more dangerous than ever.

I finally scooted reluctantly closer. His boots looked filthy, big old black shitkicker boots, and they had wet, oozing mud on them from my escape into the forest.

First, someone, probably my mother, handed me a soft white cloth and, with every inch of my skin crawling, I scooted toward Saul and began to clean his boots with the cloth.

There was absolute, hushed silence in the church, the great metallic blinking eyes retracted now to the ceiling, all the Congregation in a circle watching.

Hot, heavy breaths panting behind me, making my skin crawl.

I went as if to scoot away, every cell in my skin wanting to flee, but his big hand shot out and I felt him gather all my long wet hair up in his fist, trapping me in place.

Fuck

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