Page 81 of Darkness of Mine
“That’s not happening.” River stares him down.
The guard shares a look with his fellow cult member before turning back to us. “Then you leave. Jeremiah will only meet those who come peacefully.”
Tension is thick in the air, the wind buffeting against it.
“Fine.” River nods and we unclip our guns from their holsters. Technically, we could order the men to put down their weapons, but these guys don’t recognize the law. It would end in a shoot-out and if anyone could get away with killing five FBI agents, it would be Jeremiah.
After we helped Rebekah escape, and she told us that to become a Dying Angel you had to take a life, we tried to open an investigation. Cults don’t fall under the SCU’s purview, so we’ve passed it on to the relevant people at the FBI but we’re being blocked at every step. Jeremiah has friends in high places.
We take it in turns to place our weapons in the car, making sure one of us is always facing our new friends.
I catch Freya’s attention as I close the door, my eyes dropping to her boot. Her nod is subtle, and I relax a bit knowing she’s still got her knife tucked away.
The guards lead us across the compound, the young one with hair shaved close to his skull walks up front while another, stockier man follows behind us. We walk across the sand for a good five minutes before we see any sign of civilization.
I let out a low whistle as the true extent of the compound comes into view. I’d tried looking the place up on google maps and got nothing but a few huts. It must be outdated because the place before us now is a small village.
Varying sized wooden cabins are sprawled around a large allotment. The biggest building sits behind the allotment with a cross on the roof and angel wings carved into the walls. Onthe surface everything seems basic but the winter sun glints off electric keypads by the doors on every cabin and the hum of generators tells me the place is powered.
More people dressed in cotton, this time without the guns, look up from working the allotment as we pass. There’s a distinct lack of children which, knowing what we do about the Dying Angels, leaves me uneasy.
Our guide leads us past the allotment and down a path that diverts off from the central area. More huts line the path. When Freya tenses beside me I follow her gaze to a rectangular cabin. Unlike the others this one is painted black and a carving of a young woman being crucified hangs above the door.
A teenage girl stands on guard outside the cabin, her hands clasped behind her back as she stares straight ahead. Instead of white cottons, she’s dressed in black cargo pants and a t-shirt that is far too thin for this weather. I don’t need Freya’s reaction to tell me this is where Rebekah slept. She’d called herself one of the Tainted and I can tell every one of us wants to knock out the guards and free those young girls right this second.
If only it were that simple.
The guard weaves to the right and I force my gaze away from the cabin as we come to a stop in front of a circular hut.
His hands still resting on his rifle, the guard addresses Freya. “Jeremiah is waiting for you inside. Your friends will stay out here.”
“No.” River’s response is instant.
“One of us goes with her,” I say, trying to find a peaceful compromise.
The guard looks at me. “Jeremiah does not talk with men who lie.” He cocks his head. “You seem to have lost your accent.”
The last time Freya and I were here we came undercover as a soon-to-be-wed couple from the south searching for Freya’smother. It’s a ruse we knew was dead in the water the second we were let in the gate. Jeremiah knows who Freya is.
“It’s fine,” she says, stepping forward. “I’ll go alone.”
“No, you will not.” River spins, circling his hand around Freya’s arm and holding her back.
“He’s not going to do anything to me with you waiting outside,” Freya tries to reason but nothing’s getting past the blank wall River’s slammed down.
My gaze flicks to the camera mounted on the entrance to the round cabin. Jeremiah’s watching this and I don’t want to give him any more leverage to work with. “River,” I say, jerking my head to the side when he looks my way.
He works his jaw before letting go of Freya. “Make sure she stays put,” he says to Eli before walking over to me.
I lead us back down the path before cutting behind one of the other cabins. The second guard follows us but stays at enough of a distance that we can talk in private.
“You have to let her go,” I say.
River crosses his arms. “It’s not safe.”
“Neither is being here, unarmed,” I counter.
He scowls. “Is that supposed to make me feel better? I don’t want her alone with him.”
