Page 67 of Seraph's Tears
Before I could reply, the door burst open. It slammed the wall so hard it dented the plaster. A furious Zorbabel stomped into the room, his brown eyes blazing with rage.
I tried not to cringe back into the bed.
His eyes found mine. “You scheming little harlot,” he seethed, jabbing a finger in my direction. “You poisoned him against me, didn’t you?”
I shook my head. “No, Zor, I didn’t!”
“Don’t call me that!” He strode two steps to me and bent over, withdrawing a knife. “I am your reverend, your leader, and your master. You will address me with the respect I deserve.”
I gasped and tried to wriggle away from him, but the ropes held firm.
He grabbed my hands roughly. They’d gone nearly numb from the tight knots.
I held my breath, expecting sharp pain and blood, but instead he sawed through the ropes. “You and I are going to have a chat.”
“Reverend,” Lilith broke in. “Perhaps?—”
“Keep silent, woman.” Zorababel’s eyes, unholy and crazed, flicked up to her.
She fell silent.
Pain shot through my hands into my fingers, the pinpricks of blood finally returning to veins. I gasped as I tried to make two fists, my hands finally falling to the ground by my side instead of wrenched behind me.
He worked at the rope around my ankles. “My two elders are waiting outside. We will be?—”
I bolted upright, listing heavily to the side. I crashed into Zorababel, who wasn’t prepared. He fell to the ground, the knife clattering across the floor and under the bed.
“You rebellious whore,” my betrothed seethed. “I will break you, do you hear me?”
I fought against the pins and needles feeling traveling up and down my calves and into my feet. I couldn’t yet clench my fists, but I didn’t need hands to run. I charged out the door as best I could, careening wildly in the hallway. But I kept going. I tripped and fell halfway down the stairs, picked myself up, and then kept running to the back, through the kitchen, and out the back door.
The outside door slammed open, and wintry flurries swept into my eyes. Heavy clouds rolled across the sky, bringing in a storm. The air smelled sharp and crackled with energy.
Blinking rapidly, I rushed out into the back yard. A box of dirt, probably an herb garden in warmer months, lay between me and the wide, open moors. I leapt over it, my foot catching on the lip of the wooden box. My arms flew out, and I nearly fell into the brown, brittle grass. I caught myself in time, then kept running. My heart pounded so hard I thought it would jump straight out of my chest.
“Get back here!” Zorababel’s anger struck out like a snake. I flinched, as if it could literally catch hold and drag my back to him.
I didn’t dare look over my shoulder. I could imagine him racing out of the pub, leaping over the herb box, and catching me. Gasping for breath, I lengthened my stride, picked up my skirts, and ran.
Where did Castiel live? He would protect me. But with the two elders waiting in the front of the pub, nowhere in the village was safe.
My mind raced as my feet dug up the wet, cold earth and turned toward the manor, where I’d last felt safe. I was leaving footprints for him to follow, but I didn’t know what to do about it. I pushed harder. Wind whipped past my face, stinging my eyes and scraping my cheeks. My hair flapped behind me.
I could hide at the manor, and Gabriel would protect me. I knew that now. How I wished I’d realized that weeks ago. Clenching my jaw, I ignored the stitch forming in my side. The village faded behind me, but the pounding feet of three men did not. Sparing a glance over my shoulder, I could see Zorababel Grimshaw chasing me. He had no knife—had he left it behind, or was it in a pocket? I didn’t want to find out.
The two other elders came up behind. Absalom’s long legs ate up the cold ground until he was beside the reverend.
Terror squeezed my heart. I tripped on a tuft of grass and nearly sprawled onto my stomach. The moorlands stretched beyond us in all directions, the sky turning black above us and the horizon a faint glimmer of thin light. Gentle hills rolled in every direction. The barren landscape, void of trees, made it nearly impossible to hide. One could see a mile in each direction.
Jagged rock formations cut into the sky off to the right, gray against the brown land and the blackening sky. Mirkwold wasn’t in that direction, but it was close enough. I veered toward the rocks and the cliff I knew would be beyond it.
I knew now that area wasn’t safe for anyone on foot, and I could use it to my advantage.
Chapter Twenty four
Gabriel
My wings beat at the heavy, storm-thick air, pushing me toward the village. Gathering condensation drifted into fog. I stayed low to the ground, skirting the western edge of the path to the village. Movement to my right caught my attention. I peered through the growing darkness, the sharp smell on the wind making me nervous.
