by Paul Seiple
“Anton?" I raised my brow. "Can't be Anton LaVey?”
“Know any other Satanists named Anton? LaVey used to claim that he spent time working as a photographer for San Francisco PD. Maybe he met your father when Norman was searching for another sheep to follow him.”
“I have to call Reid,” I said.
“Here.” Mack handed me his cell phone. It looked like a brick and weighed about the same.
“How much did you have to pay for this thing?” I asked.
“The university paid a pretty penny for it. Just dial the number and hit the orange send button.”
The phone rang three times before a female answered.
“Reid Hoffman’s phone.”
“Who is this?” I asked
“Jill Tanner. Reid is b…”
“Jill, It’s Michael. I need to speak with Reid now.”
“He’s driving, hold on.”
After a few seconds, I heard Reid’s voice. “Find anything?”
“Lick’s connection to Norman is through his father, Xavier Priest. Apparently, Norman and Xavier were friends at one point.”
“Priest has been dead for five years,” Reid said.
“There’s more. I think my father was friends with Anton LaVey. We found a photo of Norman and Xavier taken by someone named Anton.”
“Xavier was heavily influenced by Anton. In one of his books, he mentions a falling out with LaVey over the Satanist's philosophy. Relating it to Cain and Abel in the Bible, which is odd because Xavier claimed not to believe in the Bib…”
Reid’s words abruptly stopped. “Reid, you there?” I pulled the phone away from my face.
“Sometimes it drops calls,” Mack said.
“I’m here. I need you two to meet me in Richmond as soon as possible.”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Wallace left a message at his sister’s house for me. A highlighted passage from Romans about passing judgment on your brother.” Reid went silent again.
“Reid?”
“I thought maybe Wallace had a brother we didn’t know about. But he wasn’t talking about himself. He was referring to my brother. He’s going after my brother.”
Twenty-Six
Richmond, Virginia
Hella opened the doors to The Sacred Heart. A breeze raced by her and down the hall causing the paintings on each wall to vibrate with a low rumble. The doors slammed behind her, leaving winds from the coming thunderstorm to rattle the wood. She walked into a small room to the left with the words Sacrament of Penance written to the left of the door. Rain tapped against the stained glass windows — the prelude to the storm’s arrival. Thunder made its grand entrance, shaking the windows. Flashes from lightning danced down the hallway like lit matches striking the flames of destruction. Hella beamed with pride at the thought of Hell following her, the whore of Babylon, into the house of God.
The white walls, covered with a thin film of age, were bare. At some point, the white must have shined with brightness, but color fades over time, just like faith, as the world around you darkens. At the far end of the room was a wooden kneeler built into the wall. A cracked leather cushion ran along the bottom for knee support. Just above the kneeler was a small window covered by lattice. Above that — a wooden cross.
Hella walked to the kneeler, stood on the knee platform in her five-inch heels, piercing the brittle leather with the heels, sending more cracks along the bench, giving the impression of a shattered mirror. She reached up and yanked the cross from the wall. Thunder shook the church again.
“Oh Father, I’m such a bad girl,” she said, rubbing the cross over her chest. A noise on the other side of the wall caused her to go silent.
“Is there anyone there?”
Hella put her face against the lattice. A shadow kneeled in front of her.
“Is there anyone there who wishes to confess?”
Hella dropped the cross, grabbed a handful of her dress, and pulled it up, just above her knees. She kneeled in front of the window. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. Sinned and sinned again.”
“I’m listening, my child. Is the sin you wish to confess a mortal sin?”
“I’m not sure, Father. What constitutes a mortal sin?”
“A mortal sin is a willful violation of God’s law. Adultery, idolatry, and murder are examples.”
“I'm guilty, Father.”
“Confess your sins to the Lord. And ask for His forgiveness.”
“Adultery, murder, and idolatry, huh?” There was a brief silence followed by Hella letting out a deep breath through the lattice as if she were trying to blow in the priest’s ear. “Well, there was this time I gave head to my next door neighbor. I was eighteen. He was married with three kids,” Hella paused. “But that was so long ago. And then there was the time I killed that guy. But wait...he deserved it because he was trying to kill me. An eye for eye, right? But that’s not what I need to confess either. Lately, Father, I’ve been having these impure feelings. I have this desire. This want. This need to fuck the good right out of a priest. Can you help me, Father?”
“What are you doing?” Father Thornton asked.
“I’m trying to…” Hella stopped when she heard the other male’s voice.
“Get up. We are going to your office.”
“Sasquatch, is that you?” Hella asked, putting her face up to the lattice. “You better not be cock-blocking the good Father.”
“That’s enough,” Norman said, standing behind Hella.
“Why did you send the goon in there? I was having fun.”
“This isn’t about fun.”
“Look, if I’m going to go to Hell, I at least want to have a good time getting there.”
Norman turned and left the room. Hella picked up the cross and placed it back on the wall upside down, before following him.
Sanford stood behind Father Thornton, with his massive hands on the priest’s shoulders forcing him to sit at his desk. When Norman walked into the room Father Thornton tried to stand, but Sanford leaned forward, putting weight on his hands, keeping the priest from moving.
“Who are you? What do you want?” Father Thornton asked.
“I’m hurt that you don’t recognize me, Eric.” Norman sat on a couch across from the desk. “I used to have this same sofa in my office.” Norman patted a cushion. “So comfortable. Not much to look at though. Sacrifice beauty for comfort, right?”
“Am I supposed to know you?”
Hella sat on the corner of Thornton’s desk and twirled her hair. “This one’s actually pretty cute.”
“How’s your brother?” Norman asked.
“My brother?”
“Yes. Your brother. The one you haven’t spoken to in years. How long has it been? Fifteen? Twenty? You should be ashamed of yourself, Eric. A man of the Lord abandoning his own flesh and blood because of an alcohol problem. It’s not like he had sex with your wife.” Norman took a deep breath. “It was the demons. And if anyone knows how powerful demons are it should be you, Father Eric.”
“My brother abandoned me. Just like my mother. After she ran away, my father drank himself to death, leaving only me and my brother. And what does he do? He runs away to the Army, leaving me to foster care.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Norman said. “That explains why you don’t use your last name. I knew there was some bad blood there. My version is much better.”
“I’m not a Hoffman,” Father Thornton said.
“I sense a bit of sibling rivalry. Believe me, I know all about that. You’re upset that your brother is a famous FBI agent and you’re a measly little servant to a fictional god.”
“Might as well worship Santa Claus,” Hella said. She swung her legs around and placed a heel on Father Thornton’s chest. “At least that way it’s OK to have people sit on your lap and tell you what they want.” She dug her heel into his flesh.
Father Thornton pushed Hella’s foot away. “I’m not jealous of
Reid. He abandoned faith for the bottle and wasted his life believing that our mother was murdered. She wasn’t. She ran away from her family. I’ve forgiven her now. I’ve forgiven Reid, but he hasn’t accepted reality.”
Norman laughed. “That’s the main problem with you priests. You’ll believe anything.” Norman picked up a Bible. “Greatest work of fiction ever told. Yet, to you, it’s gospel.”
Father Thornton bowed his head and started praying.
Hella mimicked him with her hands. “Blah, Blah, Blah.”
“Reid understands reality. Reid understands that there isn’t time to worry about an afterlife in Hell. Hell is here on Earth. I am Hell.” Norman stood up, walked to the front of the desk and placed his hands, palms down, on the wood. “Your mother didn’t run away from you. She was murdered.” He stood back up. “How do I know, you ask.” Norman placed his hands back on the desk, and leaned toward Father Thornton. “I know because I killed her, Eric.”
Father Thornton lunged at Norman. Sanford placed his arm around Thornton’s neck, pulling him back. “Not so fast, tough guy.”
“What are you going to do, Eric? Murder me? What about the Commandments. Thou shalt not kill. Remember that?”
“Holy Moses. What about the burning bush?” Hella twirled her red hair around her fingers. “Wanna find out if I’m on fire…down there?”
“You’re sick people,” Father Franklin said.
“Thanks,” Hella said. “And would you believe you’re not the first person to say that this week.”
“I really have no problem with you, Eric.” Norman took a seat on the couch again. “But I do have a problem with your brother. You see he killed my son. Yeah, yeah, I killed your mother. Eye for an eye. But that’s not what this is about. Reid actually did me a favor finishing off George. It had to be done. I took a vow a long time ago that the next time I took someone’s life with my own two hands it would have meaning. Killing George had no meaning for me.” Norman crossed his legs as if this were casual dinner conversation. “I have another son, Eric. Now that one is a thorn in my side. He spilled my secrets and ruined my life. As long as Reid is around snooping in my business I cannot drink from the cup of retribution.”
Father Thornton shifted, trying to free himself from Sanford’s grip.
“Sit tight, cupcake,” Sanford said.
“And I have a granddaughter that I’ve never seen. You know how it is to not see your family, Eric. Do you think they will ever let me see her? We both know the answer to that. Killing you will be the diversion I need. Think of it this way, you’re giving your life so that I can meet my granddaughter. "
“Hot martyrdom,” Hella said, rubbing her breasts.
Norman looked at Sanford and nodded his head.
Sanford grabbed Father Thornton's chin with one hand and his forehead with the other. Before Thornton could fight, it was over. A single, violent motion broke the priest’s neck, almost spinning his head one-hundred and eighty degrees.
“I figured the good priest would get choked up over your little story,” Hella said. “But I had no idea he’d nearly lose his head over it.”
“What kind of sign do you want to leave this time, boss?” Sanford said.
“No need for a clue this time. Reid will get the picture loud and clear.” Norman stood up and straightened his slacks. “Arlington is less than two hours away. Let’s go meet my granddaughter.”
Twenty-Seven
Arlington, Virginia
“Can we get some mac and cheese?” Michelle asked while Barbara grabbed a shopping cart.
“Sure.”
“When’s Daddy and Uncle Reid coming back?” Michelle put Linus in the basket of the cart as if the teddy bear was a child.
“Soon, honey. They need to finish a little business first.”
Michelle picked up a copy of T.V. Detective magazine. Rebecca was on the cover. The caption ‘Headline: It’s One Hell of Story’ was written just below Rebecca’s red Gucci pumps. “Look, Mommy is on the cover.” Michelle pointed the magazine at an elderly couple as they walked by. “This is my mommy.”
Barbara chuckled. “Do you want to be like your mommy when you grow up?”
Michelle frowned. “No, she’s never home. I want to be like Uncle Reid when I grow up. He’s a badass.”
Barbara laughed again. “He is that, honey. But do me a favor and don’t say that again. Where did you learn that word anyway?”
“Daddy says it sometimes when he plays Nintendo. Don’t tell him I told you. He swore me to secrecy.”
“Your secret is safe with me.” Barbara took a box of cereal from a shelf. “Do you like Rice Krispies?”
“I’d rather have Sugar Smacks.”
“Sugar Smacks it is then,” Barbara said.
“Daddy told me he used to be like Uncle Reid. But he stopped. He won’t tell me why he stopped.”
“Your daddy got a more important job.” Barbara pinched Michelle’s cheek. “Being your daddy.”
“What an adorable little girl,” a red-headed woman, dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt said, stopping her empty cart next to Michelle. “Is she yours?”
Before Barbara could answer, Michelle said, “She’s my aunt. This is my mommy.” Michelle pointed to Rebecca on the cover of the magazine.
“No way! Your mother is Rebecca Aaron?”
“Yep,” Michelle said.
“Look at you, little miss famous. If I had a pen, I’d ask for your autograph,” the woman said.
Michelle giggled.
“Well, I must get back to my shopping. You lovely ladies have a blessed day.”
The woman walked her empty shopping cart to the front of the store and left.
“That’s weird. She didn’t buy anything,” Michelle said.
“You didn’t tell me the brat’s mother was a movie star,” Hella said, tearing off the flannel shirt. “This fucking thing itches.” Two elderly ladies stopped to stare at her as she stood in the parking lot wearing only a bra and jeans.
Norman handed her a t-shirt. “Put this on before you screw things up for us.”
“She’s a television star, not movie,” Sanford said.
“Whatthefuckever. This is going to bring too much heat down on me,” Hella said, pacing back and forth on the passenger side of the Cadillac.
“My dear, you’ve played a part in the murders of five people, four being servants of the Lord. I would say you’re swimming in boiling water. Relax.”
“Yeah, relax,” Sanford said, handing Hella a newspaper. “At least they got your good side. I didn’t know you had one. Looks nothing like you.”
Hella snatched the paper from Sanford’s enormous hand. On the second page was an article with the headline, ‘Doing Satan’s Work?’ Underneath the bold print was a split photo of Hella and Sanford’s mug shots, only the names listed were Patty Cline and Richard Lick. “The USA Today? Really?” Hella read the article. “Just fucking great. Now, the entire country will be looking for us.”
“Calm down. Norman told me this would happen,” Sanford said.
“Oh, he did?” Hella turned to Norman. “You set us up to take the fall, didn’t you?”
“You were the one that left your fingerprints,” Norman said.
Hella grunted and slammed her fist onto the roof of the car.
“Chill out. I didn’t get insurance on this thing,” Sanford said.
“Really? Our faces are plastered everywhere, and you’re worried about fucking insurance? When they catch us, we’re getting the chair.”
“No one is catching you,” Norman said. “You’re right; I let you leave your prints. I needed to leave breadcrumbs for Reid Hoffman. If he is half as good as he used to be, he’s figured out that his brother was the latest victim.”
“You used me,” Hella said.
“Everyone gets used, my dear. You’re using me for the large sum of money you’ll get once this is over. If it bettered your position, you’d slit my throat without blinking an eye.�
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Hella folded her arms and stood with her back to the car. “Lot of good that cash will do me from behind bars.”
“We are not going to jail,” Sanford said. “Boss, has a plan. Right, boss?”
“His plan was for us to take the fall while he fades away to continue his demented game of butt hurt,” Hella said. “You preach about having loyal soldiers to go to war with, but what you really wanted was people to be your shield when the battle begins. I’m done.” She started to walk away.
“You won’t get out of this town before they pick you up,” Norman said, opening the car door and stepping out. “You must believe me. As soon as we get my granddaughter, I have arranged your deaths. Patty Cline and Richard Lick will cease to exist. And then, my dear, you’ll be rich and free to be whomever you want.”
Hella stopped and faced Norman. “Don’t bullshit me again.”
“I have a safe house that is completely secure. I have a connection with the FBI that is airtight. I am the master of disguise. You have my word.”
“Is that the kid, boss?” Sanford said, pointing to Barbara and Michelle leaving the store. Barbara was pushing a grocery cart. Michelle was by her side, tossing Linus into the air.
“That’s the brat,” Hella said. She turned to Norman, “I swear, if you fuck me on this I will shove the sword, you’re trying to get me to fall on, so far up your ass...”
“Here’s a life lesson you need to learn, dear. Do not threaten a man of my stature. If you show me the knife before you slit my throat, you’ll be the one gasping for air.”
Hella let out a deep breath and bit her tongue. Norman was still a mystery to her and she wasn’t sure if anything that came from his mouth was truth. But the look in his eyes told her this was not the time to test him.
“They’re leaving, boss. What’s the plan?” Sanford asked.
Barbara pushed the grocery cart into the cart rack. Michelle stood on a piece of metal on the rack singing ‘We Built This City’ by Starship.
“Let’s get home. The ice cream is going to melt,” Barbara said.