The Forsaken (The Chosen Series Book 2), Patricia Bell [e textbook reader .txt] 📗

“What was that all about?” Jonathan asked.

“I don’t know.” Her body was still shaking.

“That car nearly ran me off the road. He was playing some kind of game with me.” He came around the car. “When I sped up, he did. When I slowed down, he did too. Finally, he took off, and then I saw him go after you. I thought he was going to crash into you.”

“Me too.” But what did he want? “And then he just took off.”

“Creepy.” Jonathan held her. “You are shaking. Are you okay?”

No, not really. “I guess.”

“Come on. We are almost home. We will take the back streets.”

Luna nodded and got back in her mother’s car.

Chapter 28 ― Daniel

As Daniel sat in his room and stared at his face in the mirror, he cringed. He looked like the Frankenstein monster in that old black and white movie he’d watched late at night when he was eight. The movie had given him nightmares for an entire week. He’d never told his parents because he’d have been in trouble.

Just the memory of the cook stitching his skin together with ordinary thread gave him the chills. Each pull tugged at his skin as pain shot down his face and to his neck. She’d only finished when he was about to pass out.

But as time went on, anger had stirred in Daniel like no other. Defiance tugged at the pit of his stomach. His father had told him to never go back down there. To forget the place ever existed. To let that girl, Abigail, die because God said she deserved it. The only problem was, the High Prophet thought he was God. He’d referred to himself that way several times in conversation with Daniel.

Daniel stomped out of his room and headed to the hallway where he’d found the secret door. He leaned on the wall in the place he had so many times before, but the door did not open. He leaned again. Nothing. He looked around and ran his hand along the wall, but he could not make the door open.

His father must have done something to disable the door. Daniel huffed and walked toward his father’s office. He would have to do his spying the old-fashioned way. He snuck up quietly and peeked through the crack in the door. The man he’d seen before was sitting with his father. His left leg propped up on his right and leaning back.

“I don’t want to hear it,” the High Prophet said. “You have had ample time to bring them back to me.”

“Yeah?” The man sat up in his chair. “Well, I don’t exactly like the idea of man-handling children.”

“I told you. All you have to do is bring them to me, and I will do the rest.”

“Well, you see, that’s where things get sticky. They aren’t four-year-olds that I can coax into my car with the promise of puppies and candy. There will have to be a certain amount of man-handling in order to get them in my vehicle.” He folded his hands together. “And after watching his father get mowed over right in front of him, it’s not exactly making things easier for me.”

“Who told you to run the man over right in front of him? I told you—”

“You told me to take care of him, and I did. Besides, he was about to rat you out to them. I didn’t have much choice.”

“The police showed up here to report the incident. I had to go down and verify the body. It was a real tragedy.”

“Have you told the people?”

“They think he is out of town. In Tucson at our sister community.”

“You have a sister community?” The man shifted.

“No!” The High Prophet roared. “Of course not!”

Daniel sat back, heat rising to his face. His father was a cold-blooded murderer. And there was a girl somewhere in the house who was dying at that very moment.

Daniel went back to his room, threw on his shoes, and snuck out the front door. The door that led to where she was being held was somewhere at the back of the house. He had left from that door to go see Malachi. He was sure it was not accessible now, but maybe he could find a way to communicate with the girl. He had promised her he would come back.

As he ambled around the corner in the darkness to the back portion of his home, the eerie sounds of night creatures scurrying away kept him on high alert. He should have brought the flashlight he used in his bed to read long after he was supposed to be asleep.

Turning the corner to the back of his house, he found the short set of stairs that led to the door. Listening for sounds of life, he pulled opened the secret panel and turned the handle. It was locked. He should have known.

He walked around and looked for some type of opening. Before he got too far, he spotted a vent. Leaning down, he peeked inside.

It was even darker in the room than it was outside and Daniel couldn’t tell if anyone was in there.

“Hey,” he called.

No movement.

“Hey. Are you in there?”

“Who’s there?” a faint whisper called from inside.

“It’s me. Daniel. I told you I would come back.”

Rummaging sounded as the girl came closer to the vent. Once he got a glimpse of her face by the pale moonlight, he could see that it was just as his own, bruised and swollen.

“I’m sorry.” It was all he could think of to say.

“Looks like you didn’t fare well either?” she answered.

Could she see his jagged Frankenstein stitches? He touched his face. “No, I guess not. Are you hungry?”

“No, I am okay,” she answered.

“How can you be okay? Has he been feeding you?” That was not possible. As the cook stitched his face, his father had made it clear that the girl would die down there and they would bury her quietly where no one would know.