I looked around in a panic.
Santiago. Where are you?
77. Constance
JAMES PAUSED IN HIS SPEECH TO his twisted, macabre congregation. I could tell he relished his role as leader of the Saviours, his lips curling up into a satisfied smile. “And we,” he continued, “broke free of our shackles in Plato’s cave. We saw beyond the shadows into what was real. Our eyes are open. We believe in the regime of aristocracy and the philosopher king here among our fold. We are rich and boundless and will continue our tradition of bringing those who belong with us to Saviours of Yeqon’s legacy.”
A cheer went up around the Saviours—a deep, resonating cheer that sent an ice-cold shudder down my back.
The terrible ceremony of the Saviours was done.
“We cannot delay longer,” James told his congregation. “Many of us have lives and businesses to attend to and must return to our physical homes. We will soon watch over the final challenges. First, we will need to deal with Constance and Jennifer.”
“I would be happy to have the honour of bringing Jennifer Bloom to her last breath,” said Sister Dawn, flicking her gaze to Jennifer. “Naturally, first we must find out all you know. We have ways of breaking all the small bones of the body first, and then the large. At some point, your mind will crack along with your body, and you’ll tell us everything. Everyone does.”
“No.” The word stuttered in my throat.
“Constance,” said the man who was my husband, “if we don’t get enough information from Jennifer, I’m afraid you will be next. You cannot blame me. With your drug habit, you would have surely died many years ago if not for me. You would have lost Kara, too. In bringing Kara here and taking your life, I’m only taking what is mine to take.”
I tried and failed to keep my voice even. “Kara is not your child. She’s Otto’s. No matter what, she’ll never be yours.”
Faces turned sharply as another Saviour entered the hall.
“No,” Jennifer breathed beside me.
The Saviour had Sethi and Gray captured, a gun pointed at their backs. Silently, the Saviour held up four backpacks—ours.
“Well done, Lewis,” called James.
The man named Lewis nodded in acknowledgement, his hood drawn too far over his forehead for his face to be seen.
Wilson Carlisle stepped across with a mocking look set into his pudgy face. “Gray Harlow, you should have stayed at home. Jail would have been a safer proposition than this.”
“I’m just glad my wife won’t have to suffer this alone,” said Gray.
Wilson’s face stretched into a bland smile. “We all die alone.” His attention turned to Sethi. “And who have you brought with you, Mr Harlow? We’re going to have to discover everything you two know and who else you’ve told.”
“That is Sethi Ambrosia,” said Sister Rose. “I was the one tasked with keeping tabs on Jennifer and her liaisons. He’s her on-again off-again lover.”
“There was no off. I have always loved Jenny.” Sethi stared at her coldly.
“Well, you certainly tricked me,” she retorted.
“Because you don’t know love.” He wasn’t looking at Sister Rose anymore but directly at Jennifer. His jaw drew tight. “Jenny didn’t want me to get too involved with her because she was afraid I would get hurt by the Saviours. But she always had my heart. And because of that, I cannot bear to watch her die.”
Amid the choked gasps of the Saviours, Sethi turned and sprinted the short distance to the lip of the cenote.
And ran straight out into thin air.
The Saviour named Lewis shot at Sethi twice and missed, the bullets striking Wilson and forcing the assembly back.
I whirled around to Jennifer, catching sight of her stricken face just before I heard the splash far below in the cenote.
The sweep of my gaze caught sight of an odd object on the floor.
A severed hand.
78. Gray
SETHI’S LONG BODY DOVE INTO THE cenote.
The four mentors pulled out guns, shooting into the water. They were the only ones allowed to have guns in the hall.
Let them use as many of their bullets as possible.
“The man is a deep sea diver!” The loud, shrill voice of Sister Rose. “I’ve looked into his history before.”
Sage’s expression turned to an incredulous rage. “Can he get out to the ocean?”
“It’s impossible, but—” Sister Rose stared down into the water.
Whipping out my gun, I took point-blank aim at the Saviour who was holding onto Constance.