The church was small, and the only source of light was the glowing symbol of Eden's Gate on the wall, centrally above the head of Joseph Seed standing in the middle. The air was strangely heavy, and there was a mysterious, slightly sweet smell in it. Irina carefully followed Whitehorns, watching the members of the cult with watchful eyes, who slowly got up from their seats, sending the law enforcement officers unfavorable glances. Carter could see the rifles in their hands, and immediately all the alarms in her head began to howl. In the eyes of all these people she saw reluctance, dangerously balancing on the border with pure hatred. Their clothes were soiled, men's beards ruffled, women's hair sticking to their faces. If it were not for having guns and mostly tattooed symbols on their foreheads, Irina could mistake them for homeless people. But they were far, far from that.
She looked ahead. Joseph Seed looked like he was surrounded by some sort of a mystic aura. He was slightly stooped, turned sideways, and then slowly turned to face the coming ones. When they were close enough, she noticed his blue eyes, gleaming with shade of green because of his yellow glasses. And with horror she found out that the man was looking at her, exactly at her. As if he knew her. As if he had seen her before. However, the woman's gaze went in a different direction. She looked to the right. Jacob Seed, the tallest and oldest brother, emanated strength and confidence. His hands were at his chest, his head slightly raised. His military jacket reminded Irina of her father and for a moment the woman felt a strange, warm thrill running over her body. But it lasted only for a moment. Soon, again, she felt the mysterious, disturbing cold, which intensified when the red-haired man stuck his hard stare at her, piercing her through, almost inflicting pain with it.
Her eyes rested on Faith, standing on the right. Small, young girl, younger than Irina. She wore a white, delicate dress that gave her a particularly ethereal look. But in her face, although seemingly gentle, something strange was lurking. The woman glanced briefly at Irina, only to look away from her, as if she showed no interest in blond haired woman. But it was not her that was the most terrifying. When the woman found out about the arrest warrant on Joseph Seed, she also knew what it actually meant. However, she had no choice. And although she quietly had the last vestiges of hope that she would never come to this meeting, she felt it was in vain. And, of course, that's how it turned out. John Seed, the youngest of the brothers stood behind Faith on the small podium, making himself the highest point of the gathering. It was not surprising that he was looking exactly at Carter, his shiny, blue eyes were running over her face and body, as if searching for something. His lips were almost imperceptibly parted, as if a man was panting quietly. He held his hands behind his back, his head was initially bent, staring at the woman like at a potential victim. Soon, however, he followed in the footsteps of Jacob and also raised his chin a bit, but didn't let his eyes down from Irina. He swayed his hips slightly, becoming more stable, confident. In his posture she saw a strange mixture of self-confidence and some sort of hesitation. As if he didn't know what he wanted to present with himself.
She was looking at him and he was looking at her. He waited. In the end, she couldn't stand this attack and she looked away, blinking several times, as if she wanted to erase him from memory. She stared at Joseph, but she still saw the outline of a former lawyer behind him. And she felt his eyes on her, just like Joseph's and Jacob's. Only Faith seemed interested in something else, for which Irina was actually grateful for.
The Junior Deputy was looking at Joseph, but she didn't seem to listen to Whitehorse's and Burke's argument at all. Only single words came to her ears, but the girl's mind didn't even analyze them. She caught only disturbing changes in the tone of men's voices. Something went wrong, but she didn't know what. She fell into a trap which was the eyes of the Father, not intending to release her. It was a fight, but the one she couldn't win. Joseph also said something, members of the cult left the church. Nevertheless, the only thing that woman registered was the movement of his lips. She didn't hear the sounds. Didn't distinguish them, didn't understand them.
- And I saw. And behold... It was a white horse. And hell followed with him.
She was almost instantly torn out of her trance when Father stepped closer, exactly in her direction, and extended his hands to her. Irina was behind the sheriff, trying to analyze what she heard. Hell followed the white horse. White horse. Sheriff Whitehorse. And behind him... Hell. The woman looked subtly to the left. Pratt was behind Burke, it couldn't be him. Was this an analogy? Was she the Hell?
- Rookie, put the cuffs on him.
The woman parted her lips slightly and sighed. She slowly touched the handcuffs strapped to her waist and grabbed them in her fingers, felt the irritating chill, the cold of metal. As if it told her that it was a bad idea. Something was wrong. Something... Something was going to happen, something that had been in the air since they had entered this damn church.
- God will not let you take me.
Deputy gritted her teeth slightly. She didn't believe in the existence of God. God was the invention of humanity to justify their failures. "I failed to do something. That was the divine punishment, the penalty for my sins, my mistakes." She swallowed hard, walking over to Joseph, holding the handcuffs in her hands. Metal seemed to gain weight rapidly. She felt as like it would slip out of her hands. Carter clenched her fingers on them, as if they were the edge of the cliff from which Irina was about to fall. She stood just before the Father, never taking his eyes off him. They were gentle, but she still saw a threat in them. A prophecy of what was to come. Deputy wanted to shout that they should not be here, that they must leave this church and never come back. Never go back to Hope County. She wanted to lie in her bed again, in her apartment in Missoula, and enjoy the peace and silence.
When she finally put handcuffs on Joseph's wrists, her gaze involuntarily went to John, who... Was smiling. Very, very gently. It was just a shadow of a smile. A smile that frightened her. Her thoughts went to memories from four years ago. To the damn brown wallet from which it all began. If she didn't reach into the man's pocket then, if she waited or just chose a different target, invisible to the eyes of the lawyer watching her back... Everything could look different. The theft of this object caused an avalanche of subsequent, unfortunate events. If it were not for that one mistake made that day, she wouldn't be here. She owed her presence in the ranks of the sheriff's department to John and his eagle eye. Damn it.
She put her hand on Joseph's shoulder, slowly leading him toward the exit from the church. She no longer had the courage to look at his siblings, still standing in the back, watching her for that whole time. She felt the warm skin and relaxed muscles of the Father under her fingers. At this same time she wanted to let him go, as if in fear of being burned. She followed him, dictating him pace. He let her do it. She could smell him, a mixture of some delicate cologne and dust, resembling a little bit an old library. But there was also something else, something sickly sweet. Like some kind of weird flowers.
Deputy felt a bit left behind. Members of the cult gathered around the law enforcement officers leaving the church. Hudson nervously reached for her gun, significantly accelerating. At that moment Irina wanted to run, but she knew she couldn't. Her breathing accelerated rapidly, warm air blowing away the strands of Father's dark hair that hung over the sides of his head. She knew that he was aware of her fear and probably relished it. She felt him vibrate slightly as his vocal cords began to quietly sniff the unknown, gentle and at the same time frightening melody.
A melody that would persecute her for the rest of her life.
She could feel the intense aroma of a burning fire, its warmth. She could hear the soft crackling of metal and the sounds of the night. The roaring of crickets, distant hooting of the owl. But what bothered her the most was the pain spreading all over her body. Her hands burned with pain, face was warm because of the fresh blood on it. The back and legs were numb. The world was smeared and slowly swirled around her, being a mixture of darkness and fire. Like an incomprehensible, disturbing spectacle. Beautiful and scary at the same time, attractive and repulsive. Wild, untamed mixture of deadly contrasts. She felt the delicate touch of someone's fingers on her bloody left cheek and shuddered instinctively. Deputy sighed softly, as if afraid of making any louder sounds. She felt someone's warm breath on her face, heard a muttering, gentle humming and with the remnants of her strength she struggled to listen to this perfectly balanced, harmonious mixture of sounds.
- That saved a wretch like me...
She moaned quietly, closing her eyes in horror. She knew whose face she had before her and was panickedly afraid of this view. Irina wanted to cut herself off from all this, she wanted to disappear like mist in the air. To be only an intangible being which, after any form of contact, disappears, becomes only a fleeting memory. Melody hummed by Joseph, however, seemed to mysteriously soothe her physical pain, bring relief, at the cost of attacking her psyche. The man's voice attacked her soul, slowly killing it.
- Stop... - She gasped quietly, turning her face away, wanting to hide it behind her arms tied to the roof of the slowly burning helicopter. - Stop killing me...
Father smiled gently, touching her face with his breath once more. The warmth and smell of his body were so intense now that the woman felt as if she was about to lose consciousness, as if her senses were unable to withstand him. She shivered, breathing hard and slowly, trying to move her legs slightly and check how bad they were. The feet reacted, but at the same time they spoke with piercing pain. Irina squeaked quietly, like a wolf pup being chastised by its parent, cringing in fear of reproachful teeth.
- Look at me, child. - He whispered, at the same time pressing his hand against her right thigh, as if to rebuke her for just thinking about trying to escape. The woman moaned again, this time louder, the leg stitching with pain as she tried unsuccessfully to strike the man in a defensive gesture. Irina let out a loud breath, refusing to look at the man. She didn'ot want to, she was afraid of him. But she also didn't want to give him satisfaction, to obey his orders.
- Swallow your pride. Do not let it command you. Do not let it crush you. Look at me.
The woman growled softly, just to fell pressure from his hand on her thigh getting stronger, evoking another wave of burning pain. She turned her head slowly and opened her eyes, clenching her teeth. Joseph's face was close, too close to her taste. Irina tried to move slightly, as much as the current situation allowed her, which was a perfect definition of a hopeless, with no way out.
- Do not be afraid. You will be saved, because that is the will of God. Me and my family will lead you to the gates of Eden. - Irina shook her head, trying to move again, in spite of everything, ignoring the pain that spoke with every mistake she made. Her breath hit Joseph's face, cold as death. Brown eyes glowed with hatred, the only feeling that grew stronger with increasing pain and suffering.
- I reject the offer. - She hissed like a viper, through clenched teeth. There was no fear or uncertainty on her face anymore. There was only fierceness and rage that seemed to pulse in her veins, being pumped into them through the heart beating at the pace of a galloping horse. Joseph only enigmatically smiled, leaned in her direction and laid a warm, gentle kiss on her forehead, then slowly and without much problem managed to get out of the destroyed helicopter. Only now did Irina notice that no one else was in the wreck. Pratt, Hudson, Whitehorse, Burke. Everyone disappeared. They managed to escape? Or have they been taken and murdered?
- Pull her out. The Lamb broke the first seal. The Collapse is upon us, and God requires that this soul must be saved. - Father's voice was subtle and came from behind. Carter didn't see him, but it felt like he was talking to someone. But not to her. - Lead her on this path, my brother.
No. No. NO.
In the depths of her soul, the woman pleaded the mysterious man to be Jacob. She didn't really know what to expect from him, though. But she preferred to bother with the oldest, completely unknown to her member of the Seed family, than to be at the mercy of the one who turned her life upside down. The one who was guilty of all this and deserved nothing more but to suffer.
- Yes Joseph.
She recognized the voice in the blink of an eye. Delicate, as if submissive but still carrying something dangerous. She listened to it in the past and hoped not to hear it ever again. But it was too beautiful to be true. It was just a short dream.
Irina didn't have the strength to cry anymore, so she let her body tremble slightly in the dry spasms of pain and despair.
The pain almost disappeared, replaced by a monstrous numbness. Her body lost its former elasticity, it became stiff like a piece of wood. The head, which for the last few hours was probably directed downwards became too heavy for the weakened neck. The woman let out a heavy, shuddering breath. The chair on which she sat was hard, uncomfortable. She felt a warm breath against her ear, the touch of someone's hand at her left wrist. Someone was standing behind her, leaning close to her, apparently finishing tying her hands to the chair. At that moment, the instinct to fight has awakened in the woman, so she kicked the air like a frightened doe. Or rather she tried. Her legs were tightly bound. She couldn't do anything. She only felt her head slam slightly against the shoulder of a man standing right behind her. A man who smelled with a abominably familiar, strong cologne.
She clenched her fingers into fists, as if trying to fight the attacker in this way. Senselessly and unsuccessfully. She heard only a small gasp and something that might have been a gentle, throaty chuckle. Deputy closed her eyes, hoping that all this would turn out to be just a bad dream. That she would wake up in her bed and see the remains of whiskey pouring out of the glass lying on the bedside table.
- Stop fighting. You have no chance to win. - The man's voice was a strange mixture of deadly seriousness and amusement. Weird contrast, again. Again, one excluded the other. How much easier would life be if the world was nothing but black and white. Irina turned her head to the side, parting her lips, breathing heavily. She saw the tattoos on the partially exposed hands of the man. Tattoos, which she was practically certain, he hadn't had four years earlier. She felt that he wasn't really interested in tying her hand on the chair. Intuitively she knew that his eyes were fixed somewhere in her blonde hair, looking for at least small part of her face. He wanted to see her reaction, see her wriggle with pain, panting heavily and struggling ineptly. It amused him.
- I am glad to see that you haven't lose your fiery temper. It will make everything much more interesing... - He paused, seeing how the woman is trying again to get out of her ties. - Stop struggling, for fuck's sake.
She stopped after a short moment. Not because his voice suddenly gained strength and sharpness. She simply had no more strength, so she let her head fall back down again. Deputy sighed heavily, feeling the burning pain in her neck. The man stood in front of her and leaned forward, lifting her chin with the fingers of his right hand, forcing her to look him in the eye.
- There you go. Believe me or not, but I really, really missed you. - John Seed murmured with a gentle smile. His blue eyes gleamed. The woman noticed that he had practically not changed at all since their last meeting. His hair was arranged in the same way, beard of the same length and trimmed in the same way. As if he had stopped in time. The only change were all those tattoos covering his hands. And scar of the word "SLOTH" carved horizontally along his chest. So it seemed that the lawyer with weakness for cocaine turned into a religious fanatic. It couldn't have a happy ending.
- No reciprocity. - She whispered hoarsely, clearing her throat quietly and staring reluctantly at his eyes. He still kept her chin up with his right hand, while left was resting on her own, that was tightly tied to the chair. She shuddered as his fingers touched her skin, which made him smile even more. He was enjoying it, looking like a child who got the perfect gift for the holidays.
- I though so. But this isn't a problem, because one way or another we will return to the topic of our time spent together. - John stood up and whistled, leaning nonchalantly against the wooden table, located a little on the right side of Irina. She looked at him intently. In his right hand he held the knife, turning it playfully between his fingers. A delicate, yet disturbing smile didn't leave his face for even a short moment.
- So. Ready for your confession?