I try to push past him, but he trips me, and I slam into the ground. Flipping onto my back, I kick him in the stomach and scramble away. Other robed figures coming up the hallway stop my progress. I reach for my gun, and the figure in front of me holds up a hand.
“Emma, stop!”
He pushes his hood fully back and reveals himself.
Warden Light.
“You don't need to be afraid. You have the wrong idea about us. Come in, and we'll explain it.”
Rather than responding, I burst into a run, shoving my way past the group. They're so startled they don't make any move to catch me. I get into the next room and take my gun out. Unfortunately, the man already there waiting for me is faster. His gun is aimed directly into my face as he takes a step closer.
“Bring her into the sanctuary,” he orders.
My hand is still on my gun but now is not the moment to take it out and try to use it. If I'm not fast enough, he'll shoot me dead before I can even draw it. I have to bide my time. Wait until just the right moment.
The group of robes comes in from the hallway, grabs my arms from behind, and marches me forcefully out of the hallway back toward the back of the church. I try pulling away from them, but it’s no use. I’m surrounded.
We approach the altar straight down the aisle. I have two men grabbing my arms, two more behind me, and one in front with his gun trained straight on me. Before me, the rest of the group stands waiting at the front of the altar, their dark hoods pulled low. The men drag me up in front of them, and the man with the gun turns around to stand behind me, still keeping his weapon trained.
I stand there surrounded by over a dozen of them. All faceless men in robes. A rush of anger takes the place of any fear I might have felt.
“What are you going to do?” I snap. “Sacrifice me? I didn't think that was your style.”
“Make no mistake,” a man with bright blue cords draped over his shoulders intones. “We have no problem disposing of you. You have no meaning to us. We only need to find a new place to get rid of you. You might have heard recently that our field was uncovered.”
“Why did you put her in a cage? What was the point?” I demand.
“What cage?” the man asks, sounding genuinely confused.
“Lakyn Monroe. Her body was found covered in a metal cage,” I say.
“That wasn't my doing,” he says. “I don't know why that would have been done.” He steps closer and pauses for a moment. “Make her comfortable.”
The man with the gun presses the muzzle between my shoulder blades while another man steps up and ties my wrists. Pushing me down onto a pew, he ties my ankles.
“It really is a shame,” the man says. “I've admired you. All of us have. I almost wish the circumstances were different. Do you know what we could have done for you?”
“There's nothing you could have done for me,” I fire back.
The man scoffs and pushes his hood back to reveal himself: Sterling Jennings.
“Of course there is, Agent Griffin. Don't you know what we are capable of doing? We control this town, and far more than this. We make beauty from the shadows. We can influence anything. The Order of Prometheus crafts men out of clay and gives them everything. Like the giver of fire himself, we grant beauty and fulfillment to all who join us. But no one knows what we do or how we do it. We remain shielded.”
“Hiding in plain sight,” I say. “Just like Xavier says. He knew.”
“He knows nothing,” Jennings says. “And even if he did, nobody would believe him. He's unpredictable. Rash. Too anxious and reactive. No one believes a word that comes out of his mouth.”
“You make sure of that, don’t you, Warden?” I ask, cutting my eyes over to Warden Light.
“What are you talking about?” Light asks.
“You know, it’s funny, I almost didn’t figure it out. It was right there in front of me. He told me. But I was so wrapped up in what everybody says about him, I just ignored it. Until I remembered the peanuts. He says peanuts love baseball because they are the center of attention, but that he doesn’t like being the center of attention. I think he likes them because they calm him down. Every time he ate the peanuts, he settled down. You know why?” I ask.
“This is ridiculous,” Jennings says. “You’re talking about a raving man who lost touch with reality a long time ago.”
“No, I’m talking about a man who is eccentric to be sure, brilliant beyond description, and more than a little bit off. He struggles with anxiety and has panic attacks, which make people uncomfortable, don’t they? They see him worked up and having even more trouble than usual communicating, and discount him completely. But the peanuts work wonders.”
“You might as well give him a pacifier,” the warden sneers. I want to lash out at him, but I don’t.
“Salt,” I say.
“What?” Warden Light asks.
“Salt,” I repeat. “Simple salt. That’s why the peanuts help. It’s one of the recommendations for anyone who lives with mitral valve prolapse or a floppy valve. When Xavier told me his heart was floppy, I ignored him. I thought he was just coming up with a way to describe how he was feeling. But he was actually telling me exactly what’s wrong with his heart. And why he reacted so strongly to his supplements. That often happens to people with
