Cassie yawned and rolled over on her side. She realized that rehashing the construction of the Trans-Siberian Railroad proved to be better than counting sheep. The very thought of the immense length of the railway and the Herculean efforts needed to build it made her unbearably weary. She closed her eyes and fell asleep in a matter of minutes.
Chapter 26—Receiving Holy Orders
Mother Rachel slipped into the darkened chapel unobserved. It was the middle of the day, and everyone else was engaged in their usual activities. She wished she could have gone about her duties as innocently as they. Unfortunately, she was burdened with notions she might gladly have done without. Shortly before dawn, a terrible nightmare had shocked her into wakefulness. This, in itself, was unusual since Mother Rachel rarely dreamed. Far more unusual was the fact that the vivid details of this particular vision still haunted her hours later.
In her sleeping state, she had seen her husband Abraham cast into a deep pit by an angel with a flaming sword. Mother Rachel watched in horror as the diviner plummeted helplessly through empty space. From out of nowhere, a chain materialized around his waist. The chain grew in length and sprouted upward like a living thing. When it reached the top of the chasm where Mother Rachel stood, it snaked around her own waist. Wrenching her off balance, it toppled her downward after her husband. The chain then sprouted more tendrils and ascended toward her eldest son who remained above. He was likewise enmeshed and dragged from his perch. As the matron sank deeper, she saw more and more of her children ensnared until she eventually lost count of the string of souls being dragged to their doom. The endless nothingness through which she tumbled closed in to consume her. Mother Rachel opened her mouth to scream just as the dream ended, leaving her wide-eyed and shivering with cold sweat.
Under ordinary circumstances, a consecrated bride experiencing such a portentous nightmare would consult her husband in his capacity as her spiritual advisor. Mother Rachel could hardly tell Abraham about this troubling vision. He was too deeply embedded in the message it contained. She would have to sort this out alone with the Lord’s help. That was the reason she had come to the chapel in the first place. Here, away from the bustle of daily life, she might be able to hear the voice of the sacred more clearly.
The matron sighed at her own unorthodox behavior. consecrated brides weren’t supposed to communicate with God directly. They were to receive divine instruction from their husbands instead. This rule applied even more strongly in her own case given that her husband was the Lord’s prophet. Nevertheless, she remained convinced of the propriety of her conduct. God had spoken to her personally, and He surely expected her to answer His call the same way.
She glanced about her. The chapel could seat no more than fifty souls. It was only used for weddings, baptisms, or funerals and was restricted to the immediate family of the participants. She walked to the front pew and sat down. Gazing up at the pulpit, she thought back to the many stirring orations her husband had given here. During those times, her pride in Abraham had only been exceeded by her pride of place as his principal wife. Mother Rachel’s preeminence within the Blessed Nephilim had endured for decades. She never doubted that her rank in the celestial kingdoms would be likewise exalted.
But her husband’s days of glory were past. Abraham was no longer the decisive leader he had once been. Of late, his sermons had become disjointed and rambling. He tired so easily now. Instead of an hour-long discourse, he could barely manage fifteen minutes before growing short of breath. He needed help descending from the lectern. While these symptoms were perfectly common with the onset of age, his decline had been shockingly rapid.
It all began when his youngest wife Hannah fled the compound and took refuge among the Fallen. That single act of betrayal shook Abraham’s confidence to the core. The rest of the congregation was initially oblivious to the change, but Mother Rachel perceived her husband’s waning physical strength and his slackened moral leadership. Though she could clearly see his deterioration, the matron felt helpless to stop it.
Then an opportunity presented itself. Mother Rachel leaped at the chance to reach out to Sister Hannah per her husband’s command. Perhaps all was not lost. If the matron could carry the words of the Lord to the heart of this wayward girl she might repent her folly. Once restored to Abraham’s embrace, Hannah, in turn, might restore him to his former vigor.
But this happy ending was not to be. Mother Rachel had prayed daily for Sister Hannah’s repentance. She had read her the Bible during every visit and then the prophecies of Jedediah Proctor and the sermons of former diviners. The matron had reprimanded and rebuked and cajoled, but the girl remained unmoved. Mother Rachel began to wonder if Hannah might be deaf as well as mute. Always the same dull expression on her face no matter what tactic was tried. She gave no sign that she heard or understood the spiritual care being lavished upon her.
Perhaps it was something darker than ignorance that motivated Sister Hannah’s behavior. She seemed to possess an unnatural power over Abraham. Everyone saw it. The girl had taken a once-strong man and reduced him to a quivering lump of mortal frailty. He seemed unable to function without her. And if he failed to lead, the brotherhood would fail to follow. Without their shepherd, the flock of the Blessed Nephilim might easily be led astray into sinful pastures. Surely this was the devil’s work. As it was in the beginning, the serpent wrought the fall of the righteous through a scheming woman.
Ironically, Mother Rachel was the only person who could
