Page 81 of The Preachers' Promise
Cain’s also made no secret of how much he hates his father, and Malachi isn’t exactly close to his remaining family either. In our world, however, it’s expected the eldest sons take over the business when the fathers are no longer strong enough to rule. And if theydoeventually decide to take over, will that mean we’ll need to separate? I couldn’t stand that.
While we might be heading back to safety, there is still so much to worry about. But, to my surprise, I realize the one person I haven't given thought to for many hours is the Prophet. I haven't heard his voice in my head, and I've given no thought as to how his presence might fit into our future. In fact, for the first time in a long time, I haven't thought of him at all. I remember what the guys said about me being strong enough to beat him on my own. I'm not entirely sure that's true, but even after everything that's happened, I do feel stronger.
It’s with relief that we arrive back at Verona Falls. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed the place. I might not have been here long, but it’s as though it’s already becoming a part of who I am—a home to return to. It only feels that way because of my Preachers, and I love them for giving me that.
We’re shown through the gates, the security first checking we are who we say we are, then make our way to the water tower. No one even suggests going back to our dorm rooms. We all know where we need to be.
We find Cain’s father’s men waiting for us, all of them in suits and armed. Off the main track, through the trees, a large black and silver RV is parked. That’s where the men will be staying. Right now, though, they’re all lined up outside the water tower. I assume they’d been alerted to our arrival by the guards on the gate.
One of the men barks an order at the others. He’s not the biggest of the group, but he has a kind of leanness and sharp eyes that make me think he’s probably lethal in a fight.
“Mr. Lockwood.” He steps forward and shakes Cain’s hand. “Good to be working with you, sir.”
It feels strange to see someone address Cain in such a way.
“Hello, Felix,” Cain replies.
“We’ve done a scope of the area already and positioned armed men in critical spots. We’ve also made use of the roof of the tower, which gives us a three-sixty view of the surrounding area.”
“Sounds like you’ve already thought of everything.”
He ducks his head. “Thank you, sir.”
“I trust you know what you’re doing,” Cain says.
His father wouldn’t send him men who were bad at their job.
The man—Felix—catches sight of Roman. “Do you need any help?”
“No, we’re fine,” Cain replies. “We just need some rest after our journey.”
“Understood, sir.”
We leave the men guarding the exterior of the water tower and head inside. For the first time in days, I finally relax, but then I realize everything is different.
At first, I can’t believe it, but the longer I stare around me, the more the reality sinks in. All the shelves with the jars and pots of random herbs and dried pieces of animals are gone.
I turn in a circle. “What did you do with all your stuff?”
Roman gives a half-smile. “It’s all been moved to our altar room. We didn’t think you’d want to use a kitchen that was filled with all that crap.”
“The rabbit feet did kind of put me off my food,” I only half-joke.
There’s been a fresh coat of paint on the walls, and a new, thick, gray rug covers the floor. The two couches now have scatter cushions, and there are even lamps on the corner tables.
I pick up one of the cushions and hug it to my chest. “This place looks great. I can’t believe you did all this.”
I swear Malachi blushes. “We wanted you to feel at home here.” He picks at his chipped back nail varnish and scuffs one foot across the floor.
“We’re not done yet,” Cain says. “There’s something else to show you.”
I wonder what it is. I follow the guys out of the living area, passing the bathroom and altar room—the doors both shut—to the bottom of the stairs. A new oak handrail has been put in on the spiral staircase.
Cain stops at the bottom and jerks his chin. “Go on, you can go up. It’s the first door you reach.”
I haven’t been upstairs—I wasn’t even sure it was safe—but I know the guys wouldn’t let me go somewhere that wasn’t.
I navigate the spiral stairs carefully. I reach the next floor and stop on a small landing in front of another closed door. The stairs continue higher, as the building is tall, and I assume they lead to the roof, eventually. But they said it was the first door, and this is it, so I pause, nervous but excited.
