Aftertime

“It’s going to be all right.” Adele leaned in close and whispered. “I’m going to tell them Monica didn’t mean it, she wasn’t feeling well. I’ll tell them I told her not to drink. I’ll tell them it was my fault. I don’t have any warnings yet, I can afford one.”

One of the other neophytes paused in front of Cass and gave her an unconvincing smile. “It’s really hard at first. I mean…for all of us. But you’ll get used to it. I promise.”

“And even if that doesn’t work, the worst they’ll give her is solitary time,” Adele continued, as though she hadn’t heard. “Last time they put her in for a couple hours. If they’re mad enough they might make her stay there overnight.”

Before Cass could respond, she felt a hand on her arm and turned to see Sister Hannah. “Ready, Cassandra? We need to get you your new clothes before you go back to the dorm.”

Cass touched Adele’s shoulder as she followed Hannah away, but Adele seemed not to notice, her lips moving soundlessly as she calculated what she could trade for Monica’s punishment.

Hannah led Cass to an office near Lily’s and set her lantern on a desk, where it cast long shadows around the room. She opened a metal cabinet that contained a stack of folded white clothes, selected a skirt and shirt, and shook out the wrinkles before handing them to Cass.

When she reached for them, Hannah held on.

“As you know, neophytes dress only in white. You will receive a fresh change of clothes twice a week. I will take your old things.” She let her gaze travel slowly down Cass’s body. “What size are you…a four? Six?”

Cass tugged at the clothes, stiff from being line dried, and finally Hannah let go. “I’m not sure, anymore. Where can I change?” she asked as neutrally as she could, trying to keep the panic from her voice.

“Right here is fine.”

“Isn’t there… I thought-I mean, in the dorm, we use the changing rooms.”

“It’s all right. I’m ordained. Besides-” Hannah’s smile turned predatory “-it’s just us girls here, right?”

Cass swallowed hard. She stood and backed away from the chair, and skimmed off her pants, keeping her back to the wall. She folded them and set them on the chair, keeping her eyes lowered. She could feel Hannah’s gaze on her, and the blood rushed to her face in both embarrassment and fear. She pulled on the white skirt; it was baggy on her despite the elasticized waist and came down past her knees.

Cass drew her shirt over her head, and then she was standing in front of Hannah in only her bra, the same plain white one the women had given her at the school.

“You act like you’ve never undressed in front of anyone before,” Hannah murmured hoarsely and Cass hesitated in the middle of unbuttoning the folded blouse. Hannah was regarding her with frank appraisal, her gaze traveling across Cass’s breasts, the expanse of smooth, taut skin of her torso, her hipbones visible above the sagging waistband of the skirt. “But I bet you have. A girl like you…I bet you have, plenty.”

It wasn’t the first time Cass had been the subject of a suggestive appraisal. It wasn’t even the first time from a woman. But it was so unexpected, here in the Convent. Her heart thudded a panicked rhythm, terror of discovery making a metallic taste in her mouth. Her fingers remained frozen on the buttons of the white blouse.

“Turn around so I can see you,” Hannah continued in a silky tone. Her hand played at the V-neckline of her shirt. All of you.”

“I…I can’t,” Cass whispered, her lips numb with fear. She had to keep Hannah from seeing her back.

“Yes, you can,” Hannah encouraged, but with an edge. Because I say you can. And what I say goes in here.”

And there it was, the relationship that Cass had been foolish enough not to consider. The powerful and the powerless. The hungry and the helpless. Why should it be any different here, where schemes masqueraded as faith, where trades made in the shadows fueled devotions pledged in the light?

How many bosses had tried something like this with Cass, grabbing her ass in the break room, asking her out for a drink to discuss a promotion or a raise? And how many times, Cass remembered, her face burning with shame as she twisted the fabric of the blouse in her hands-how many times had she simply gone along, because going along was easier than resisting?

“No,” she said, frantically trying to figure out a plan. “I mean I…if you just let me get dressed I can…we can…”

A knock at the door silenced her. Hannah’s eyes went wide and startled. “Get dressed,” she hissed. “Now. You’re not supposed to-”

But it was too late. There was the sound of a key turning in the lock and then the door swung open.

Mother Cora stood in the doorway holding a sheet of paper and a ring of keys. Her gaze took in the scene, and her eyes narrowed.

“Oh, Hannah, again?” She sighed heavily. “I thought after the last time-”

“It’s not what it looks like. Not this time.” Hannah’s tone had turned from domineering to supplication. “I was onlyhaving her change in here because there was, there was someone using the common room-”

Mother Cora raised an eyebrow and frowned as Cass scrambled to jam her arms into the sleeves of the blouse, but it was buttoned shut. Frantically she worked at the buttons with shaking fingers.

“Here, dear,” Mother Cora said, taking several steps into the room and reaching for the blouse. “Let me.”

Cass backed away, and her foot struck something and she tripped. She tried to right herself but when her hand came down on the back of a chair it rolled, taking her with it, and she fell, hitting the trash can she’d stumbled over, and landed on her knees.

She scrambled to her feet, but it was too late.

“Oh good Lord,” Mother Cora exclaimed. “Let me see you, child.”

She put a hand on Cass’s shoulder, her fingertips cool and her touch light. Cass flinched, but there was nowhere to go. Hannah, do you see?”

Silence. Then, tentatively: “See what?”

“Don’t be afraid,” Mother Cora said. “You’re the new girl, aren’t you?”

Cass nodded.

Very gently, Cora took Cass’s arm and turned her so that Hannah had an unobstructed view of her back.

Hannah gasped.

“She was attacked,” Mother Cora said. “By the fallen. You were attacked, weren’t you, dear? And yet here you are. You found your way here. The Lord brought you to us.”

Cass said nothing. There was something chilling in the contrast between Mother Cora’s soft, gentle voice and the sparking intensity in her eyes. Despite the kindness of her words, Cass now felt more afraid of her than she did of Hannah.

“You were healed. Weren’t you.”

Cass didn’t dare speak.

“Healed through prayer?”

“I, um, don’t know…” What answer would serve her best?

“Were others praying over you? When you were bitten? Did they save you?”

“I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything after I was attacked, until I…woke up.”

Mother Cora put out a finger, and touched it to the edge of one of Cass’s wounds. The touch felt strange and uncomfortable, but not painful. She traced the shape of the wound, the skimmed-over layers of healing skin sensitive to her touch.

“You woke up,” Mother Cora repeated. “And were people praying, then?”

“I…” An idea occurred to her. “Yes.” It was a reckless idea, but if it worked, maybe it would let her see Ruthie one more time. “I was in and out of consciousness for a while, and when I was awake, there were children praying over me. Young ones. They were saying… They were chanting something and then I slept and when I woke up again they were gone. And-and I was healed.”

Cora sucked in her breath. “Where?” she demanded, excitement making her voice shrill. “Where did this happen? Where were the children?”

“Outside of town. In a field,” Cass said, desperately hoping she wasn’t making a terrible mistake. If this worked, she would get to see Ruthie. And then-Dear God, I promise-then she would leave the Convent, leave Ruthie in the hands of women who could at least keep her safe.

“She’s lying,” Hannah snapped. “Let me get Brenda, she’ll get the truth out of her-”

“You’ll do no such thing!” Mother Cora scolded. “Come here, Hannah. I want you to see this. Here. And here…