In Fledgling Whispers (Book 3 of The Transition of Pinn)

Rachel:

“I think maybe Courtney…”

It’s two days later and even though Maya is giving the first testimony in city hall, the whole temple is going about the day as though nothing is happening. Yet, everyone is a little on edge, a little watchful. We all know it is happening and there are a few whispers here and there in the waiting room. But otherwise, we all pretend that this is a normal day.

I suppose most of the women feel disconnected from it. I didn’t pay much attention to it before finding out about the Master Priest. But good gossip is good gossip, and it was only this morning that the other found out that it is Maya that is testifying.

I’ve decided to try to use my time productively and by that, I mean talking to Marie. Being the social butterfly that she is, she knows everyone’s story which I can only admire.

“… and Sarah, I remember Sarah had a story”

I look over to Sarah, she arrived only a few months ago and I never bothered to get to know her. She stands to the side of the waiting room chatting to another priestess. She twirls her shoulder-length brown hair with her fingers while her face frowns and whatever her friend is saying.

“Do you think she was down there?” I ask.

The problem with finding people to testify about the Redeemer is that no one talks about it. Even among priestesses, it is spoken only in hushed whispers as though saying his name will get you sent there. Perhaps it even does. Or perhaps having been there you become paranoid.

Marie shrugs, “probably”

I take two steps in her direction.

“Rachel!” a priest calls out.

Damn it, it’s my turn to go to the antechamber. Sarah will have to wait.

So I go through the motions as required. The priest says his thing and I go through the door to the antechamber. All the while thinking about how to get more testimonies.

I spoke with a priestess called Taylor yesterday. She was sent to the Redeemer’s level several years ago for arguing with worshipers. They left in her a cell on her own without food for 3 days while she listened to the screams of the other women in the cells around her while she waited for her turn. Nothing ever came for her, but she couldn’t sleep for a year after.

She said she wasn’t sure she could give testimony, she is too nervous and I can’t really blame her. I tried to stress to her the importance of stopping this and that we would protect her, something I need to talk to the Master Priest about.

Even though her story was hard to hear and horrible, I’m not sure it’s violent enough to interest the investigating committee.

As I enter the half-empty room I nod to the Priest of the Antechamber. In return, his eyes roam over my figure. He can be such a creep.

I begin my slow walk through the kneeling men in their white robes still mulling over the best approach to finding women to testify and not really paying attention to the room around me.

On my second pass through the small group of worshiping men, I feel someone grab my ankle. Finally, now I can get this over with. I reach my hand back and feel the worshiper’s warm hand grab mine. I half lead-half pull him along.

Maybe I can find one of the priestesses Marie mentioned in the shower room after this-

It is just then that I notice who is sitting in front of me and I stop suddenly causing the worshiper behind me to knock into me. I have managed to walk to the entry room of the inner chambers and not remembered that the Master Priest is usually the one manning the donation box. His blue-gray eyes are wide and startled at my presence.

Things got awkward after our kiss. He apologized several times and I just go out of there as fast as I could, promising to find priestesses to testify.

“Hi” is all I can think of to say.

“Hi” he replies starting at me.

I can feel my face heat as he continues to stare.

For the past two days, I have been trying to keep him out of my head, trying to focus on the important task at hand. But it hard not to appreciate someone who is doing so much for others.

And who is also so good-looking who seems to spend so much time watching me.

It is the clanging of the coins dropping in the donation box that break us away from our staring contest. Right, we have an audience.

“Come” I turn my head away from the priest and focus on my task. I grab the worshipers hand again and jerk him after me.

In the Inner Chamber, I pick a bed that is on the far side of the room and strip quickly, not caring for anything but to get this over with. I take my place on all fours on the bed not even asking if he has any preferences. The worshiper follows my motions without any comment or complaint.

My head is elsewhere, the awkward meeting with the Master Priest in the entry room occupying my thoughts. I simply stare at the white sheet on the bed. I am dimly aware of the worshiper kneeling behind me, steadying himself with his hands on my hips, and sliding into me before beginning to pump.

A particularly rough pump causes me to jerk forward and I am forced to move my arms to stay upright. I raise my head as I reposition and I notice something.

It’s him, it’s the Master Priest. He is on the far side of the room watching us intensely.

An idea comes to me and I return his stare for a moment before I throw my head back and let out a loud moan.

*****

In Fledgling Whispers is COMPLETE on my Patreon. You can read it today for only 3 Euros a month (+VAT, multiple currencies available). Check out the link for more info: https://www.patreon.com/heatherjacobs

Happy reading!

Heather