“You need not thank me at all,” I said and meant every word. “Grace was meant to be yours. As soon as I saw her, and knew the danger her beauty posed, I had to get her to you, somehow, some way. Because I knew your pure heart would adore her.” Rebekah chased the wetness from my cheeks, and I reached out and held on to her wrist. “I should have said this many years ago and somehow fought for you, come for you. I was wrong to believe what they told us about you. You are not devil-created. I realized this too late, even though I saw your pain. I foolishly believed in the prophet, until I saw our faith begin to unravel before my eyes. I . . . I—”

“Shh.” Rebekah shook her head. “It is over now. We cannot go back.” I wanted to argue that although we could not go back, it was also impossible for some of us to move on. But I held my worry inside. Cautiously, Rebekah asked, “What . . . where have you been, Phebe? What did that man do to you?” Her eyes were full of concern. “You are so thin. I . . . I cannot bear the thought—”

This time I shushed her. “Shh, Rebekah.” I chased the truth from my mouth. “I was not hurt, I promise. I was held by Meister as his prisoner. He was neglectful, but not hurtful to me. Be at peace. I am well. We all are now.”

Rebekah released a long breath, and I watched her shoulders relax, as though an incredible weight had been lifted from them.

She pulled me close and hugged me. I closed my eyes and held back my tears. Rebekah did not need to know of my suffering. She had already endured that and more. Laughing, Rebekah pulled back. “Your food. You must eat it before it gets cold.”

Rebekah sat down opposite me. She smiled at me as she took a sip of her drink, and I forced the food down my throat. I felt the marks on my arm itch. If I’d had Meister’s potion available right then, I would have used it, just to escape this world for a while.

When I had finished the last of the food, I lowered my fork. “Everyone here calls you Lilah or Li.”

She nodded. “I prefer those names. The memories that come with Rebekah can be difficult to relive at times.”

I understood. “Then I will call you Lilah too.”

“Thank you.” She yawned.

“Go to sleep, sister,” I said and got to my feet.

“Are you not tired too?” she asked.

“No, but I could very much use some fresh air. I . . . I did not feel the wind on my face too much where I have been.” I tried to remember if that was true. I couldn’t really recall it, but I was certain it was true all the same.

“There are chairs on the porch. Take all the time you need. You will be safe here, I promise. You are free.”

“Thank you.” I made my way to the door. As I passed Lilah she took hold of my hand, and once again I was wrapped in her embrace. “I find I cannot let you go,” she said, and my heart melted.

“I am going nowhere,” I assured her. “Now get to bed. You are tired.”

I opened the door and stepped out into the fresh air. I heard Lilah walk away, and I relaxed. I could drop all the pretense. But I did not see him beside me. I did not see him sitting there in the dark until I noticed a flicker of movement and the light of a burning cigarette. I jumped and placed my hand over my now-racing heart.

Ky got to his feet. “You scared me,” I said.

Lilah’s husband stepped toward me, a puff of white air splitting the dark. “You lied to her.”

I automatically shook my head in protest, but he held up his hand. “Thank you,” he said raggedly. I blinked in disbelief as I watched the tightness leave his eyes. “I know what you’ve been through, at least some of it. And I saw you in AK’s cabin when he got you out. Yet you told Li you were good. So . . . thank you.”

I nodded, having no words to say. Ky walked to the door. “You can stay here as long as you want.”

He left me alone, his kindness hanging in the air in his wake. It only served to cut deeper. I made my way to the rocking chair that Ky had just vacated. I sat down, relieving my aching muscles, and stared out into the darkness. The stars were bright up above, and bats swooped around the large garden. Children’s toys were scattered around the grass. Lilah was right. This was her home.

Then I thought of her face. Thought of the fact that she could no longer have children, because of what the Elders had done to her. And I hated it all. I wished that AK had not saved me. I wished that Meister’s potion still mixed with my blood, because it made me forget. Above all, I wanted to forget.

I thought of Grace in her bed and Lilah reading to her, brushing a kiss on her head. My heart yearned for a moment such as that. But that hope had died, long ago, and my soul had faded too. The sins I bore in secret made it feel as though my life had no point anymore.

That I no longer had a purpose, now I was here, starting over again, but separated from the missing piece of my heart.

I ran my hand along the marks on my arm, the flesh itching and yearning for what I could not give my thirsty vein. Then my hand hit something beside the chair. I grabbed hold of the object and brought it into the light cast by the lantern attached to the ceiling.

Jack Daniels.

I removed the cap, and a familiar scent filled my nose. Meister would drink this in New Zion. A sudden image of him, drinking after he had joined with me in a dark room, hit me. I flinched when the memory made me feel sick. When I remembered the blood. The pain between my legs. His seed on my skin and the heavenly needle being injected into my arm . . .

He would use this to relax.

I raised the bottle and drank from the neck. The bitter liquid burned my throat. I coughed as it took the breath from my lungs. But then the liquid traveled through my body and lightened some of the pain I bore.

So I took another sip, and another, and one more, until I felt the pain subside and the image of Lilah’s ruined face leave my mind. Whenever memories tried to infiltrate my mind—Meister’s handlings, Judah’s betrayal—I drank some more. And when the worst of my memories tried to stab me, bruise me, destroy me, I drowned them with the drink, begging them to flee.

Eventually, the world became blissfully numb and my mind became immune to all evil. Yet one image did not leave. AK’s face and kind eyes stayed with me as I watched the bats fly in the midnight sky.

And I was okay with that. Because in this whole mess, he was a shining beacon of hope. The only face that made me feel safe. Because there was a darkness in him too, a fellow traveler on the same uneasy road.