by Dave Dykema
But the pop psychologist in him couldn’t understand why he still wanted to stalk people. Maybe because it’s fun…?
Returning from the toilet, he stole a glance at the clock. He dropped Melissa off almost three hours ago. He thought back to his days of catechism and tried to remember how long those sessions lasted. Not more than two hours—he was sure of that.
He found himself looking at the phone again, willing it to ring.
My God, how much longer do I have to wait?
*5*
Two hours earlier the self-anointed Reverend Jim Stone stood before a mirror in his private room, primping and priming, fine-tuning his appearance. He straightened his tie with a sudden quick jerk, the knot taut against his throat, the cords of his neck straining against the collar, protesting. With an almost feminine softness he smoothed the wrinkles of his shirt with his immaculately groomed hands, the nails polished to a brilliant shine. He then narcissistically stroked his chin, admiring the masculine angularity. A sly smile formed on paper-thin lips as he vainly approved of his reflection. As the final touch, he donned his robe, bleached blinding white, and pulled the rope around his waist tight. The robe flattered his broad shoulders and narrow hips, flowing naturally over his sculptured physique.
He heard a knock on his door.
“It’s almost time.”
“I’ll be out in a minute,” he replied.
He took one last inspection of himself in the mirror before assigning his final stamp of approval. After he deemed himself fit for public consumption, he walked over to a small urn in a corner. It was atop a wooden stand, polished and smooth, and resembled a baptismal fount.
Stone reached under the robe and removed the crystal he wore on a chain around his neck. It was similar to Kim’s, but bigger, with a better cut, like a diamond or other fine gem.
He removed the lid covering the urn and placed the crystal inside, submerging it in the thick, dark fluid and holding it under with one hand. His perverse mind called up an image:
“Madge!” the woman exclaimed, horrified, withdrawing her hand. “You mean I’m soaking in it?”
Madge grabbed her hands, lowering them again into the bowl of dish liquid. “Relax, it’s—”
—blood. And it’s good for you too!
He laughed at his black humor, as he did every time he performed this macabre ritual. The routine hadn’t changed in the six months since he’d set up shop. Then, he had a small following, most making the move from California with him. However, his small family continued to grow, as more people saw the Light.
He removed the crystal from the urn and placed it in his mouth, slowly sucking off the dripping juices like a cheap whore. Tonight there was to be another induction into his fold—another mind to mold. The thought excited him so much he had an erection in his trousers.
He licked the crystal clean, better than a dog lapping up a plate after dinner, then replaced the lid on the urn and wiped his fingers off on a tissue. Stone draped the necklace around his neck again, this time wearing it on the outside. To complete the wardrobe, he pulled the hood on the back of his robe over his head.
Stone then opened the door and went outside to greet his flock.
*6*
When Kim pulled into the lot, Melissa was disappointed. She naively half-expected some kind of glass cathedral, celebrating the glories of crystal. Thinking about it, she realized that this was a small religious group probably barely scraping up rent to pay on the leased building each month. It was white, bland, its windows painted over. Nothing fancy here.
Melissa wasn’t prepared for the reception she received when she walked in the door. She feared they’d be distant and paranoid, skittish and weird. They turned out to be none of the above. Warm smiles and heartfelt hellos immediately greeted her.
“I told you there was nothing to worry about,” Kim said, introducing her around. “You were trembling outside.”
“Well, you know,” Melissa stammered, trying to explain, “this is all very new to me. My parents are WASPs.”
*7*
Stone wandered out unobserved by most of his troop. Those that did see him waved from across the room or flashed him a kind smile, while at the same time allowing him the privacy a man in his position deserved and kept their distance. They knew him as a moody, contemplative man who didn’t like to be disturbed.
When he ducked back into his parlor, no one said a word or had a second thought about it. The few that noticed his absence simply thought he needed more time to reflect. Most didn’t even realize he came out in the first place.
Stone leaned back against his closed door, virtually panting.
What is she doing here?
When he came out he felt proud because of the possibility of another member. He always was at his best when faced with a new recruit, selling them something he knew was right.
And it almost always worked. Lost souls found their way to him, people in search of answers to their questions, people in search of alternatives. They were lonely, in need of friendship. He supplied them with that, and more. He gave them a feeling of unity, of belonging.
The blood is the one thing we share in common, no matter the color of your skin, sex, age, or creed you adhere to. We all have blood running through our veins, crimson and strong. Through the blood we draw our strength. Amen.
People didn’t want to give up the joy they had found. Naturally they were repulsed at first. That’s why he trained them slowly, sharing his secrets selectively, as they gained his trust. Eventually they came to realize the sacrifice was necessary, even pleasurable.
All along he knew what he was doing was illegal, tantamount to murder. His religion didn’t blind him to the facts. Taking another life was something society deemed wrong, although he knew otherwise. It was his mission to convince the populace of their folly, but before he could do that, he had to keep their actions private. Like Moses before him, eventually he would be able to come down the mountain proclaiming the only true way of life, but that time hadn’t yet arrived. He needed more planning, more disciples.
Stone’s mind raced, trying to rationalize his fears. Why is Melissa Van Dyke here? He knew her immediately from TV, even though he didn’t watch much. But when he did it was usually local news. Stone understood that she was new in town, and new people are often lonely… He supposed that could be why she was there. Kim said she met their newest pupil while swimming at her health club. It seemed innocent, and she did fit the profile of his usual convert, but he was dubious of her.
He decided he would have to keep a careful watch over Melissa.
*8*
Kim gave Melissa a cup of punch. The punch was fruity, but had a discreet hint of another flavor under it. Melissa couldn’t place what it was, but it was familiar in an odd way, not something Melissa associated with food. She thought it might be spiked, so she drank sparingly, even though it was quite tasty.
Everybody wore a crystal as a jewelry item, or had it tucked away in a purse or pocket where they could have easy access to it. No one questioned why she was without, although Melissa felt under the glare of a spotlight. Another jewelry item she noticed was a lack of wedding bands on the people she met, a significant omission in a group of successful adults this age.
They all seemed to be very professional: doctors, lawyers, business people, unlike the troubled youths that peopled most cults. They stood clustered in small groups, chatting, drinking cups of the red punch like guests at a cocktail party. The room was small, but not too crowded. There were two doors besides the foyer leading out of the room. A rope with thick velvet braiding, like the kind in movie theatres, blocked one of them.
“What’s behind that?” she asked Kim.
“Don’t know. Offices, I guess. It’s always been that way.”
The reception her protégée was getting pleased Kim. Technically, she knew that Melissa wasn’t hers to instruct, but she intended on keeping a sisterly watch over her. It made her feel warm inside to watch Me
lissa fit in so well. Long dormant memories of her own initial meeting flooded to the fore and caused her to become dewy-eyed. She so wanted Melissa to meet the man who made it all possible.
As if on cue, Stone opened his door and reentered the room. Kim, pumped up by her recollections, had to stifle a gasp when she saw him. She tapped Melissa on the shoulder.
“There he is,” she said. “Reverend Stone.”
Melissa turned to see whom she was talking about.
*9*
Dan drove like a bat out of hell, pushing Melissa’s car to its limits. When her call finally came, four hours after he dropped her off, he scrambled out of the apartment to get her, almost tipping over his fifth beer, half-finished.
He wouldn’t be convinced that she was all right until he saw her face to face. He regretted leaving her alone from the start, and vowed that he would go with her next time, whether she wanted him to or not.
Melissa had to call him from a pay phone across the street from the spa, for the club had closed an hour earlier. Kim didn’t want to leave her alone in the dark parking lot on a cold October night, so she sat in the front seat of Kim’s car waiting for him, the heater running as they talked.
“Why didn’t you drive yourself?” Kim asked. “It’s your car.”
“I know, but Dan wanted to drive me himself.” She wasn’t sure if she should say the next thing, but said it anyway, trusting Kim. “He was a little concerned about me.”
“Why don’t you invite him along next time?” Kim asked excitedly. She was thrilled with the results her first find brought. If she produced another member, she thought Reverend Stone would be so pleased with her that he might accelerate her through the novitiate stage. “That’ll put his fears to rest.”
“You know how men are,” Melissa laughed. “You can never drag them to church. Sundays are for football, not for worship.”
Kim nodded, not replying. She thought of the man she was involved with when her adventure with Reverend Stone began. He tried to be understanding at first, but soon walked out of her life, leaving her alone again. Kim knew it was for the best. There were certain priorities in life. When she warned Melissa about the necessary sacrifices she would have to make, she wasn’t kidding.
“Speaking of the doofus,” Melissa said, spying her car rounding the corner, “here he comes.”
Dan pulled in and screeched to a halt. Now that he saw her, and that she was safe and sound, he felt very intoxicated. It was as if the alcohol held off until he knew she was all right before kicking in.
Melissa watched this with a frown, but turned back to Kim, smiling. “Thanks for the ride and for waiting with me.” She stepped out of the car. “I’ll see you next time.”
“No problem.”
Dan stood outside her car holding the door open. Behind her, Mel heard Kim pulling out. She noticed his white pallor immediately.
“Dan, are you all right?”
“I was worried, that’s all. Still, maybe you should drive.”
She took the keys from him. “It’s cold. Get in. We’ll feel better once we get inside a nice, warm apartment.”
They drove back to Melissa’s place, not talking much. He was drunk and tired; she was concerned. They both just wanted to be home at this point.
She invited him up, not wanting him to drive until he looked better. She started her fireplace and went off to throw some sweats on, glad to get out of her outfit and into something loose. Dan climbed onto the couch and sat with his head lowered, eyes closed, hoping he wouldn’t be hit with the spins.
When she came back Melissa saw him and smiled. He looked like a tired little boy, exhausted from a day at the amusement park. She came over and played with his hair.
“You’re welcome to spend the night if you don’t think you can drive. This couch is a little lumpy, but it’s not bad.”
“I might take you up on that offer,” he said, seriously considering it.
“I think you should.”
Dan was amazed that she couldn’t smell beer on his breath, and then it occurred to him that perhaps she was just being polite. He felt like a heel.
(heel to toe…)
Oh, shut up! his mind screamed. I may be screwed up, but I’m here for Mel. Can’t I do anything without drinking a few beers first? I’m a worthless piece of shit! I could have wrecked her car. All she asked me to do was drive her. In fact, she didn’t even ask me—I was the one that pushed myself on her to do it. Jesus, I’m fucked!
Melissa saw him beating himself up inside. Of course she knew he was drunk. Any moron could. And she was angry with him for driving back to the club. Kim probably would have driven her home had she asked. That girl seemed devoted to her cause. But instead of lashing out, she reached out, putting an arm around him, pulling him close. He rested his head on her shoulder, fighting back sobs.
“It’s all right, it’s all right…” she soothed.
To get his mind off his guilt, she began to tell him some of what occurred during the evening.
“The man was magnetic when he walked in. All eyes were drawn to him. Even I felt his tug. I don’t know if it was his size or his posture or his booming voice or what, but he carried himself with great authority. It was creepy the way they dropped everything they were doing to give him their undying attention. And get this,” Melissa continued, “his name is Reverend Jim Stone. Does that sound manufactured, or what? Jim Stone…gemstone… Either those people are blinded by their devotion, or they don’t care.”
Dan listened to all of this, nuzzling closer. He felt very tired now, about to go to sleep.
“I kept waiting for them to ask me for some money, but they never did.” She looked off at the fire, watching the dancing flames, her eyes glazing over. “It’s funny. When I’m here with you I can be cynical about the whole idea, but when I’m with them, it somehow seems right. I may think those people are weird, but they’re certainly satisfied. I believe they’ve found what they’re looking for.”
“Did you ever think that’s the way they want you to feel before they sink their hooks in?” Dan mumbled against her sweatshirt.
She shrugged. “I suppose. There’s a lot of secrets going on there…things they’re not telling me…”
She took her arm from around Dan and reached down the front of her sweatshirt. Dan almost fell over into her lap when she moved, losing his balance. He quickly sat up, jerked awake. His eyes were transfixed on the twirling object she dangled in front of him on a gold chain.
“Where’d you get that?”
Melissa reached out and cupped the crystal, ceasing its whirligig motion. “From them. I’m supposed to keep it with me at all times. Do you like it?”
Dan examined the crystal. It was about the size of a walnut, not as clear as he would have thought, but flawed with a cloudy middle and a slight aqua hue. He had to admit that the flames reflected off it quite nicely, and it was pretty to look at, but nothing special.
Then he looked beyond the crystal at Melissa. She was fascinated by the smoothness of its cut, the clean jagged lines, the murky color…
Dan saw this, and without knowing why, became worried.
Stone Pays a Visit
*1*
Janet entered her apartment building wearing a smile on her face, the first in what seemed like years. In her hands she held the nice fat commission check from a house sale she just closed and a bottle of bubbly. She planned to peel off her clothes and slip under the suds of a hot bubble bath, sipping champagne and listening to Mozart. Her building was empty this time of day, and the only one left to hear would be Mrs. Hardy, but she always complimented Janet’s choice of music when it bled through her walls.
She bounded up her stairs in a flash, and then stopped dead in her tracks.
A shape separated itself from the dark shadows of her corridor, revealing it to be Reverend Stone wearing a dark coat. Janet held a hand to her chest, gulping in air.
“Good God, you scared the hell out of me!”
“God doesn’t have anything to do with it,” he said flatly, approaching. “Hell perhaps, though I don’t think so.” He laughed low and deep.
Religious humor, Janet thought. I don’t get it. But she smiled patronizingly anyway.
“What brings you here?” she asked as they went inside her place.
Stone acted as though he didn’t hear. He walked around the apartment like an art critique, hands folded behind his back, scrutinizing every piece of décor. Janet stood by the doorway, twirling a brunette lock of hair with one finger, trying to decide what to make of this.
He stopped circling only once to turn and say to her: “Beautiful nudes.” He meant the watercolor paintings that hung on her wall, but he looked at her in a lustful way. “Do you mind if I take off my coat?”
Janet shook her head no, put down her champagne on the counter, and approached him.
“Let me take it. I’ll put it on the bed.”
Recoiling his arm, he brought the coat in against him. “I’d rather you not. You must have a closet.”
“Well…yes, I do.” She took the coat. “I’m sorry.”
“I just wouldn’t want it to get wrinkled.”
Janet took out a hanger from her closet and carefully draped Stone’s coat over it. She was a little annoyed at his insinuation. She would have laid it flat, smoothing it out. He had nothing to worry about. However, now was not the time to be griping. She had a guest to attend to, and a very important one at that.
“Would you like some coffee? Tea?”
He pointed at the champagne. “How about that?”
Janet flushed red, embarrassed, though she didn’t know why. She supposed it was because her teacher arrived, showing up just as she was about to pop a cork in the middle of the afternoon.
“Okay. I just closed a big deal on a house, and was going to celebrate.” She bit her tongue, wincing as she said, “was going to,” as in: until you came along and ruined my plans…