Healing the Broken Read online

  “They have different flavors and textures,” she continued. “That yellow one kind of tastes like lemonade and grape popsicles and the red one with green and yellow spots tastes like a cheeseburger.”

  “Like a cheeseburger? What do aliens know about cheeseburgers?” Charlie demanded. “You’re lying!”

  Sarah shrugged. “They don’t know anything about them. That’s just what I thought they tasted like.”

  Father Caleb looked at her suspiciously. “I thought you said only the ruler was allowed to eat them.”

  “He let me have some. I was an honored guest—an assistant to the Kindred diplomat.” Sarah raised her head proudly as she spoke. The men in this room didn’t need to know how her time with Sazar had ended. For all they knew, she had been treated like a queen on Alquon Ultrea.

  “I don’t believe a word of it.” But Father Caleb was fingering the champles as he spoke, lifting them up and sniffing them with considerable interest. Sarah was certain he was going to try each and every one of them as soon as he was alone.

  “It’s true,” she said and added, in an off-hand manner. “The brown ones taste like chocolate cream pie. I thought so, anyway.”

  “Chocolate pie?” Father Caleb’s eyes filled with a greedy light. “You don’t say.”

  “That’s what it tasted like to me,” Sarah said, shrugging again.

  Of course she had never tasted the brown chample at all since Dod had warned them that it was strictly for medicinal uses. She remembered her thought that it might have the same properties as prune juice or laxatives and hoped fervently that she had been right.

  She also hoped Father Caleb would take the bait. He had a sweet tooth which kept the sisters who ran the kitchens constantly baking. Of course, none of the women in the Compound were supposed to eat any of the sweets themselves—that might make them unsightly and fat. But The Prophet had whatever he liked whenever he liked and one of his favorite treats was chocolate cream pie.

  “Well, we’ll see about all this at the proper time.” Father Caleb put down the brown chample but she noticed that he kept one hand on it possessively. “For now, I’m sending you to the women’s quarters in the Compound to be dressed for our ceremony.”

  “What—now?” Sarah’s voice came out in a panicked squeak.

  “Yes, now.” Father Caleb frowned at her. “You’ve been wandering far, my little lost lamb. It’s time I brought you back into the flock. And after seeing your, ah, new jewelry, let us just say I’m quite eager to make you a Bride of the Prophet.” His eyes flickered over her breasts again and Sarah thought she might throw up.

  “No,” she said, trying to keep the pleading out of her voice. “No—don’t do this. I don’t belong here!”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, my dear—the Compound has been your home since the tender age of twelve. Where else would you belong?” He made a motion to Amos and Charlie. “Take her to the women’s quarters and have her cleaned up and properly arrayed.”

  “What about the nipple stuff?” Charlie asked. “Should we have her take it off?”

  “No…” Father Caleb said thoughtfully. “No, I think we’ll leave it on. At least until I’m finished making her my bride.”

  “You mean raping me,” Sarah said in a low voice. “That’s what you do here—you rape young girls. You can dress it up however you want to with holy names but that’s all it is—just rape.”

  “Shut your mouth, you little whore!” Amos snapped, shaking her until her teeth clicked together. “You ought to be grateful The Prophet will still touch you after you went out and acted like a slut!”

  “Yeah, shut it,” Charlie shouted, poking a finger in her face.

  But the Prophet’s expression remained serene.

  “Well now, I think Sarah is simply confused,” he remarked. “She doesn’t understand how holy the act of submitting herself to The Prophet can be.”

  “All I know is I want her for a second wife when you’re done with her, Father Caleb,” Charlie said. “I’ll teach her some manners.”

  “No, I want her for my third wife,” Amos protested. “Who knew she was hiding such big ripe titties? I should get her—I grabbed her first.”

  “Peace, my sons.” Father Caleb raised his hands to quiet them. “What I’m thinking is, why should little Sarah here be a second or third wife to anyone? At least, not for a while. After I’m finished making her my bride, she can play the roll of concubine for a time. That way, both of you can have a turn.”

  “What? No!” Sarah gasped. “No, please.”

  “I’m sorry, my dear but you have no one but yourself to blame.” Father Caleb’s smile curled up cruelly. “You cannot expect to go around dressed like the whore of Babylon without inciting the lustful urges of the men around you. And for that, you must be punished. In fact…I think it will be good if every one of the Controllers has a turn. Spread the word, Amos, Charlie. It can be an early Christmas gift.”

  Sarah’s mouth was too dry to talk and her legs felt like water. There were ten men among the Controllers the last time she’d counted. Was Father Caleb really going to give her to all of them?

  I’d rather die, she thought, her stomach rolling. Rather die than let that happen!

  “Please,” she managed to gasp out but Father Caleb only smiled.

  “Next time think a little before you decide to rebel, Sarah,” he remarked. “Now take her away and get her ready for me.” He made an imperious motion with one liver-spotted hand and Amos and Charlie dragged her out of his office and back towards the Compound.

  As she was dragged, stumbling between them, Sarah suddenly thought of the warm, feminine voice that had come to her when she and Sazar stood before the Lord Magnate who had wanted pretty much exactly what Father Caleb wanted.

  Had it been the Kindred Goddess? Kat and her friends certainly seemed to believe in her. Sarah didn’t care who it had been—she only knew she needed help from anywhere she could get it.

  Oh please, she thought, praying as she had when she was on Alquon Ultrea. Please whoever you are, help me now! I’m in so much trouble. Please help me!

  But she heard no answer.

  * * * * *

  “She’s not at the shelter or any other shelter in the Tampa Bay area.” Sazar hung up the phone in frustration. “And no one at the HKR building has seen her since she left yesterday afternoon.”

  “What do you want to do?” Sylvan spread his hands. He looked somewhat rumpled from being dragged out of bed an hour earlier than usual but he was willing to listen and help, which Sazar was grateful for.

  “I don’t know.” Sazar ran a hand through his hair. “But I have to do something. I have to find her!”

  “Are you certain your son didn’t just have a nightmare?” Sylvan asked gently.

  “He described what she was wearing and the carry-all cube she was carrying. And…” Sazar cleared his throat. “He said…the Goddess had sent her to us.”

  “Ahh…” Sylvan looked thoughtful. “The Goddess is often close to children. Their innocence allows them to hear her more clearly than we can sometimes.”

  “If she’s not in a shelter, she’s probably being held by The Brotherhood of Peace.” Sazar clenched his fists in frustration. “I know where their business headquarters is but I don’t know about the Compound where they live. And I’m afraid if I go sniffing around there, they’ll know something is up and move Sarah someplace else.”

  “We can get the local police force involved,” Sylvan offered. “In fact, I think it would be a good idea, especially in light of some of the things apparently going on there.”

  “You call them,” Sazar said. “I’m going to go down to Tampa and see if I can pick up a Blood Trail.”

  “You think you can do that?” Sylvan looked at him, obviously surprised. “I know Pitch-Bloods have a special ability to track their mates through the blood they’ve taken from them but you and Sarah aren’t even bonded.”

  “I know, Goddess damn it! Now I wish I