The Unblessed Dead Page 16

  Wardens keep the Elders separated from the rest of the gathering, and watch for trouble in the crowd.

  My father guides me, Carrie, and Rennon to one side of the altar. Carrie pushes Rennon’s chair, her knuckles white around the handles. She doesn’t let go even after we’re standing still. Perhaps she’s holding herself up. I feel a bit unsteady on my feet but inwardly flinch when my father rests his arm about my shoulders. I suspect he’s trying to project the image of a united family while consoling me. I remember Quade’s admonitions to act like a devoted daughter, so I remain at his side instead of drawing away.

  When the Brethren transfer my aunt to the altar, they are careful not to reveal her destroyed body. They move in unison, unfastening one limb at a time before securing it to the altar. Their robed bodies hide most of the proceedings, for which I am grateful.

  Rennon sniffles but remains more composed than Carrie. She’s barely holding herself upright by holding onto his chair and I rest my hand over one of hers.

  “She did it for me,” Carrie whispers. “I should be on the altar.”

  “She loved you. That’s what you need to remember,” I answer.

  My father gives us a sharp look, shushing us without a word.

  We lapse into silence.

  The Sanctification Ritual begins with prayers, chanting, the lighting of incense, and a speech from Elder Johan. It’s all a blur of words and images. The struggling form under the cover groans with agitation, but we’ve all been trained to ignore the cries of the undead.

  When I can no longer watch, I turn my attention to the crowd. I’m not surprised to see Quade among the onlookers. His expression is somber beneath his wide-brimmed hat. Schoolmistress Simmons stands a few feet from him. Dabbing at her cheeks with her handkerchief, she gives me a feeble smile of encouragement when she sees me gazing at her. Deeper into the crowd are faces of people I’ve never met. Perhaps they are visitors curious to our ways.

  The hooded necromancer stands to one side of Schoolmistress Simmons, head cocked so I can’t see her face.

  Quade, the necromancer is here! To your right!

  Trapped by the crowd, he cranes his head in the direction of the hooded form. I can see the moment the necromancer knows she’s been detected, for she gives me a slight bow at the waist, before sinking back into the crowd. Quade tries not to draw attention while working his way through the throng, but he can barely move through the crush of bodies.

  The throng of onlookers reminds me vividly of the Unblessed swarming my aunt. I press my knuckles to my lips to keep from screaming.

  My aunt is dead and I couldn’t save her.

  A cry from the crowd swells as my aunt’s body erupts into violent contortions. Thrashing wildly, the cover starts to slip from the body. A badly gnawed, skeletal arm comes into view. I hastily cover Rennon’s eyes with my hands. I curse the necromancer, for I know this is her doing to cause a distraction. The sound of bones breaking spur the Brethren into action as my aunt struggles to sit up. They activate the internal mechanism that will move the altar into the sanctuary. My aunt’s body tears itself apart and the cover slips off just in time to reveal her skull sliding under the collar about her neck, tearing the remains of her face from the bone beneath.

  Screams fill the air.

  The drawer containing my aunt vanishes into the Perdition Sanctuary.

  “She’s not innocent!” a voice roars. “You saw it! The Blessed don’t rest in the presence of their killers! Ilyse Nott killed her aunt by not confessing to murdering my son!”

  I see Ben Wescott, Bale and Prudence’s father, pushing his way through the crowd. His face is red with fury.

  “Ilyse Nott is innocent of necromancy,” Elder Johan retorts. He motions for the wardens to move to quell the crowd but I can see their endeavors will fail.

  “But not innocent of killing my son!”

  My father steps forward to defend me but a warden near us stops him.

  I’ve lost track of Quade and the necromancer in the crowd. I want to follow them to uncover the truth but I have more pressing concerns. Ben Wescott’s angry accusations rain down on me while Elder Johan attempts to counter. The people gathered grow louder and more cantankerous.

  “We need to leave. Now,” my father says to the warden.

  My family is ushered through the same gate my sister and I crept through just nights before to return my mentor to his resting place. The narrow passage is even more ominous with the cries of the angry mob at our backs. Wardens keep us swiftly moving, guarding us at the front and the rear. I glance toward Rennon and it hurts to see his face blanched from fear. Carrie pushes his chair at a rapid pace, her lips set into a grim line.

  “This needs to end,” my father mutters under his breath. “This cannot go on.”

  The wardens escort us through the gate into our garden and secure it behind us.

  “We best stay and guard you, sir,” the warden in charge says.

  “I agree,” my father replies, glancing in my direction.

  A little breathless, I help my sister maneuver Rennon’s chair inside the house. The narrow hall and low-ceilinged roof are particularly claustrophobic. My entire world feels like a prison that shrinks by the day.

  “Did you see?” Carrie whispers to me while my father speaks with the wardens.

  “Our aunt?”

  “No,” Carrie replies. Her lips mouth the words, “The necromancer.”

  I nod, surprised that she saw the mysterious figure, too.

  “What did you see?” Rennon asks.

  “Quade, the man who was my witness at my trial. He was in the crowd,” I answer. “He’s worried about me.”

  “Is he strong? Will he marry you?” Rennon stares up at me, his small face pinched with worry. “You need to marry someone who will protect you. I’ll do it until your Bridal Auction, but you’ll need to marry a strong guy.”

  Carrie and I exchange startled looks with the realization Rennon has just offered a solution to how I can escape the settlement. But is it possible? And how will I be able to speak to Quade about it? With wardens protecting our home, I won’t be able to sneak out. Worse yet, with the necromancer making herself known to me, it’s clear I am running out of time.

  Chapter 15

  Trapped

  Our home is a hub of activity after our return. The Elders come to speak with my father as the wardens watch the crowd gathering at our front gates. The robed men follow Father into his study and the doors shut leaving us behind.

  I’m outraged at the shouting people outside the walls protecting our house and furious at our father for abandoning us in this frightening time. I stare at the study door, my rage burning in my chest.

  “No, Rennon. Stay away from the windows!”

  Carrie’s cry draws my attention away from the door. She’s fighting to hold Rennon at bay, her feet planted firmly on the ground as she pulls on the wheelchair. His jaw is set with determination and he grunts with exertion. I rush over to help. He’s so strong it’s hard to keep his wheelchair in place as he attempts to roll into the front parlor. His knuckles are white as he clutches the rail on the wheel attempting to roll forward. Carrie holds onto one handle and I the other, both of us fighting against him.

  “Rennon, don’t look out there!” I command.

  “I want to see!”

  “It’s a bunch of angry people,” Carrie answers. “You already saw them at the Perdition Sanctuary.”

  “What are they yelling? Why are they so angry?” he demands. “What is a slut?”

  “They think I killed someone,” I answer.

  Carrie stares at me in surprise.

  I know my aunt and father would never tell him the truth. They’d try to protect him at all costs. From experience, I understand this is definitely the wrong method to take. I resent how much has been kept from me, especially about my mother’s death.

  “That man? Bale? The one who’s in the Perdition Sanctuary?” Rennon asks.

  �
��How do you know that, Rennon?” I give Carrie a questioning look and she shrugs.

  “Annah’s friends were talking about it when they visited her in the kitchen. They said that some man disappeared and then showed up with all the other Beloved Dead in the Perdition Sanctuary. Someone put him there. Alive.” Rennon finally stops fighting us and looks up at me with his big dark eyes. “Is that why you had to take the test?”

  Carrie and I both nod at the same time. We’re still holding onto his chair, not daring to release him. Rennon is one determined little boy. We know better than to let go. He is very fast and can be evasive when he needs to be.

  “That’s dumb,” he says scowling. “Why would you kill him? You didn’t even know him, right?”

  “I knew who he was because he was Prudence’s brother,” I reply.

  “But she didn’t do anything with him or anything like that!” Carrie adds, immediately coming to my defense.

  “Ilyse is Pious Standing. It’s dumb to think she’d kill him. So dumb. She’s so skinny and weak.”

  Rennon wrenches his chair out of my grip in one swift move and shimmies his chair so Carrie loses her hold. He rolls away as we flail after him. I curse his strong little arms. We scamper after him as he speeds into the parlor toward the windows.

  “Rennon!” I hiss. “Don’t!”

  He slams into the wall and jerks the heavy curtains aside to stare out the window. It’s easy to see over the gate from our vantage point and the gathering of twenty people grows rowdier at the sight of us. Fists rise in the air and the words that are being shouted become clearer.

  “Whore!”

  “Murderer!”

  “Slut!”

  “Witch!”

  “Necromancer!”

  The wardens guarding the front of the house stand next to the closed gate barking orders that no one is obeying.

  I reach Rennon just as he undoes the latch on the window and thrusts it open. “Go away! My sister is innocent!”

  I pull him back from the window as Carrie yanks the curtains closed.

  “I need to go out there!” Rennon declares.

  “No! You need to stay with us. Father is in the study and we need you,” Carrie says. She gives me a conspiratorial wink over his head. “Who else will take care of us if they get past the wardens?”

  This mollifies Rennon significantly and I give Carrie a grateful nod. She’s clever when it comes to him. I tend to lecture, but she knows how to appeal to him in a way that eludes me.

  “Well, I guess you’re right. I want some cake anyway.” He wheels himself away from us, and we follow exchanging relieved looks.

  The food is still laid out from earlier and Rennon serves himself from the desert portion of the table. The stew is still warm, so I finally decide to eat since I’m feeling weak from lack of food. Carrie eats a biscuit, but her chewing appears automatic and her gaze is distant. Rennon’s eyes shimmer with tears, but he doesn’t cry as he tucks into his collection of sweets. I sit beside him in my aunt’s chair, forcing myself to chew the bits of turnip and beef.

  “Why did they make Mother take the test? Did they think she killed him, too?” Rennon asks.

  “No, it’s because our mother, mine and Carrie’s, was a necromancer. That is why she died. That’s why Father married your mother,” I answer, determined that he should know the truth.

  “Once Ilyse was accused, the Elders decided to test all of us because of her,” Carrie adds.

  “What about me? Will I be tested, too?”

  “Boys can’t be necromancers,” Carrie answers. “That’s what the Elders say. Women are weak, so we’re more corruptible by the devil-women.”

  Rennon scowls at this answer. I’m not sure which part of her statement he disagrees with, but he’s plainly not impressed.

  “It’s awful to be tested. I’m glad you’re not going to go through that,” Carrie continues. “It was…so…” Tears fall along the salty stains already tracing down her cheeks.

  “But my mother was brave, right?” The little boy regards us with a fierce gaze.

  “She was very, very brave,” I assure him before hugging his small frame.

  He doesn’t embrace me, but doesn’t push me away. The heat of his skin and the tiny hitches in his breathing reveal his anger. Rennon has always been a determined little boy with a loving heart. Drawing back, I can see the fierce rage in his eyes.

  “I would have saved her if I was there,” he says.

  “I know,” I reply even though we both know he couldn’t have.

  “I’m brave and strong, you know. I’ll take care of you and Carrie. No one is going to hurt you.”

  “We both know that, Rennon,” Carrie assures him.

  “When I grow up and I’m a Crat there won’t be any more tests,” he continues. “We’ll make friends with necromancers so no one else’s mother dies. I promise.”

  “You can’t let father hear you say that. It goes against the Lost Texts,” I say gently.

  “I don’t think necromancers are bad! They keep the Unblessed away. I don’t know why people think they’re evil.”

  “It’s because they believe the necromancers made the Unblessed,” Carrie reminds him.

  “Then that’s an even better reason for us to be friends with them.” Rennon pushes his plate away, losing interest in the sweets. Brow furrowed, eyes glossy with tears, and his hands forming small fists, he glowers toward the area of the house where our father is sequestered with the Elders. “I will change it. I promise. Watch and see.”

  Carrie dabs at her eyes with a napkin and sounds hoarse when she says, “Thank you, Rennon.”

  Raised voices draw our attention toward the hallway. My first thought is that the Elders are departing, but realize it’s my father shouting inside his study. Curiosity draws me toward the hall. I gesture for Carrie and Rennon to stay back but neither one pays attention. We cluster together at the mouth of the hallway, heads craned, straining to hear what is being said. I grasp bits and pieces, and my heart speeds up with anxiety.

  “…stay here where she is needed…” my father says.

  There is a response, the timbre indicating it might be Elder Johan.

  “Absolutely not! Post wardens! She’s not leaving this house! She’s innocent!”

  Carrie grabs my arm, her eyes wide with terror.

  The replies to my father’s outburst are said in much calmer tones and I can’t make out any words. Maybe it’s my imagination but it feels as though the atmosphere in the house is more ominous. The conversation continues, my father louder than the rest, but not always easily understood. Gradually, I piece together a terrifying scenario. I’m being accused of murder and the Elders want to take me into custody. Only my father’s fervent defense is keeping me from being dragged away by the wardens.

  “It’s not safe out there! You’ve put her life at risk too many times! She lost both her mothers!”

  Rennon starts to wheel down the hall and I grab the handles on his chair.

  “Let go, Ilyse,” he orders.

  “Don’t go in there,” I hiss back.

  “Let go!”

  He twists around in his chair, his sweet little face flushed with rage. I see the need in his eyes to do something, anything, to save me. Reluctantly, I release his chair. The little boy wheels himself down the hallway to the door to the study. Carrie grabs my hand and we stand watching our little cousin together. Maybe I’ve been wrong to keep him stubbornly categorized as my cousin because his love for me is clearly that of a brother.

  Reaching the study door, Rennon lets out an awful wail and breaks into tears. He bangs on the door with his small fist. “Father! Father! I’m scared! There are mean people outside!”

  Carrie gives me a startled look. Rennon never sounds this childish. Ever since his accident, he’s gone out of his way to prove that he’s anything but a helpless little kid.

  “Father! Father!”

  I rush down the hall to reclaim him, worried that I w
as wrong to let him near the study, just as the door opens. The gathering of Elders stares out at me as I seize the wheelchair handles. To my surprise, Rennon lifts his arms to me.

  “Ilyse! Ilyse!” He grabs my hands, pulling himself into my embrace.

  I pick him up, something he never lets me do, and he clings to me crying. I’ve seen other children his age act like this, but never Rennon. It unsettles me. From the expression on my father’s face it’s evident he’s uneasy, too.

  “I’m sorry. He got away from me before I could stop him,” I say, patting Rennon’s back.

  “You can see she’s needed here,” my father says, snapping off every word.

  Rennon is heavy, his small frame muscled from wheeling his chair about, and my arms ache from holding him. I endure the strain, fearfully watching the robed men who hold my future in their hands. A few aren’t even looking in my direction but a few observe me comforting Rennon.

  “Take Rennon back to the other room,” my father instructs me and shuts the door.

  “Put me down,” Rennon whispers in my ear.

  I obey. He keeps sobbing loudly but he grins at me and Carrie before wheeling himself back to the dining room. My sister and I follow. We return to our seats at the table, and Rennon pretends to loudly cry a few more minutes before he starts eating the remains of his cake.

  “I’ve never seen you do that before,” Carrie says to him in a hushed voice.

  “That you know about,” Rennon answers, grinning.

  “Very clever, Rennon,” I say with admiration. He reminds me a bit of Angelina. She was able to manipulate people in the same way. Sometimes it bothered me how easily she could flip moods when she wanted something. That’s what made it so terrible when she was broken by the Necromancer Trial.

  “I’m a little boy. I have to use little boy ways to get my way,” he replies.

  “You’re cleverer than most little boys,” I reply.

  “I’m very, very smart. I read two grades higher, you know. I can do math three grades higher.”

  “I know.”

  “Maybe one day I can go to school.”

  “One day you will,” I reply.

  “I’ll make it happen,” he vows.