He glanced down and saw that he still had his arm pressed tightly between his legs, and he pulled it away slowly. He shook his head and turned to stare at the wall. He had no idea how he'd spun around, or how long he might have been lost in that shadow world of memory. His head rang with the chanting voices, and those of the others. He still saw a strobed image of Reverend Kotz, silhouetted in the doorway of the old white church. Each time his pulse pounded in his head, the image shifted and he saw the girl again.
His head throbbed painfully, and he grimaced. The mark had faded over the years, and he'd almost forgotten that it had once been there. His father had never forgiven him his association with Reverend Kotz, but time heals the darkest wounds, and the two had come to almost civil terms over time. Now they had something new in common. All of them had been in the woods the night Silas left his mark, and all of them bore it in their own way. Angel had no idea what part his father now played in Silas Greene's plans, but he knew the man could no more walk away from it than he could, or Tommy.
Angel rose and walked over to where the girl sat. She cringed and pressed back into the wall, but there was still a spark of defiance in her eyes. She didn't speak, and he was pleased. He'd told her to be quiet, and not to speak unless spoken to. It was good to see that, even if she wasn't as frightened as she might be, she was at least frightened enough to listen.
Angel stared off across the field toward the trees and squinted. He didn't see anyone on the path. The afternoon was almost gone to evening. The tops of the trees glistened with yellow light from the setting sun and the shadows ran longer every minute where they stretched out of the trees. The longer he stood and stared at the trees, the more aware he became of the woman, and the more aware he became of the woman, the more he wished that Tommy, or someone, would walk down that path and tell him the time had come to bring her to the church. "What are you going to do with me?" She had been so quiet that he'd forgotten she wasn't gagged.
Damn her.
Angel didn't reply. He stepped out the door of the barn and took a few steps toward the trees and the path leading off toward the church. If he walked another ten yards he'd have a clear view down the first quarter mile or so of trail to where it took its first winding turn. He debated with himself as her voice echoed in his mind.
She spoke again. He heard the fear in her voice, but there was more. She had courage. Angel tried not to think about her long legs. He hummed Bobby McGee softly to himself, but that did no good. He started imagining driving off with her, her shirt open to the waist and her hands tied behind her neck to the headrest. The windshield wipers would keep time as he stroked her and explored her flesh. He had dreamed of it. In his back pocket, the bandanna still hung limply out behind him.
"What are you going to do with me?" she asked. "Where's Abe?"
Angel sighed. His forehead throbbed, but he ignored the pain. When it grew more intense, he gritted his teeth into the grim semblance of a smile. He walked to her without a word and dropped to his knees in the dirt. He stared at her, and as he did, his hand moved to his crotch of its own volition. He wanted to lick his lips, but he had to clench his teeth against the pain. It was too much to ask, he thought to himself. Too much for him to bear. He would take her, here and now, and then he would lead her to the church, whether they were ready or not. Silas Greene might have great shadow antlers and powers he could call on when he was weak, but Angel did not. All the powers called on him instead, and they called through his throbbing erection for release.
Angel yanked his gaze from her prone form and crossed the barn in four quick steps. There was a workbench at the back where he and Tommy sat most days, drinking, smoking, and talking about things they would never do and people they would never know. At the back of the bench sat a battered tape deck.
Angel slapped the rewind button, waited for the solid, satisfying click that signified the end of the tape, and pressed play.
Moments later the rough guitar intro rippled through the barn followed by the throaty, cigarettes and whiskey voice of Janis Joplin. As she sang of Baton Rouge and truck drivers, Angel returned to the girl's side.
She stared up at him in horror. Her lips parted, as if she intended to ask another question. Angel massaged himself and stared down at her. As he dropped to his knees in the dirt beside her, she screamed.
TWENTY-THREE
The curtains fell closed behind Silas with a whisper. He and Tommy stood alone in the rear chamber, just for a moment. Their eyes locked. Elspeth, still under the influence of the drink that Tommy had poured down her throat, struggled weakly. Tommy held her easily by his grip in her hair. He hardly seemed to notice. His gaze was expectant and hungry.
Silas smiled, and as he did, the curtains parted again. The others filed in slowly. They surrounded the pool with short, mincing steps, trapped in the rhythm of the chant. The spiral formed as they filled the room, much as it had formed the night of the bonfire. The difference was that they were aware of its formation. Silas stood on one side of the pool, Tommy on the other. When the room would hold no more, Silas held up a hand, and they halted. They rocked back and forth like human metronomes as he turned to the pool and placed his hands on the cool surface of the stone rim. Silas gestured to the first four in the line. They stepped forward and took places around the pool. The others crowded in and filled the vacant spots with a soft murmur. Their voices rustled like a thousand bats taking off all at once. Silas nodded at Tommy, who drew the girl in front of him. Her struggles were more frantic, but Tommy lifted her easily. As he lifted her over the edge of the pool, the two others closest to him grabbed her legs and ankles and they turned her horizontal to the floor, suspended above the pool. The surface of the water was smooth and dark. As Elspeth struggled, her arms and legs held out to both sides and Tommy with his hands beneath her shoulders, supporting her weight, something bubbled up from the base of the pool and swirled around the edge. It was just a single ripple, but it swirled around the inner rim of the pool and spiraled in toward the center.
Elspeth heard it and cried out softly. She struggled again, and Silas stepped to his left. He dipped his fingers into the pool, brought them up dripping cool water, and traced his fingers down the length of her foot. The liquid slid off her smooth, bare skin and dripped back into the pool. The water swirled slowly, following the direction of Silas's motion. He stepped around the first of those bearing Elspeth's weight. He dipped his fingers into the pool again and let his hand fall palm flat on Elspeth's thigh. The water soaked her jeans, though there was only a drop or two on Silas' hand. It started as a dark spot and rolled outward, a paper-towel absorbency commercial gone mad. He trailed his hand up until it rested between her legs.
Elspeth shook. Her body vibrated like it was caught in a grinder, and Silas pulled his hand away again, and continued around the outer rim of the pool. He stopped every step to dip his hand into the water, scoop the clear liquid up and spread it over Elspeth's writhing form. Each time he brought droplets of the pool water to her clothing the material soaked instantly. The water sought its own, slipped through denim and cotton toward the last stain, and down toward the pool.
The chant in the background shifted rhythm. The water sloshing in the pool gained a tempo and beat of its own, and the voices joined it. Silas stood beside Tommy and dipped his hand once again. Something swirled in the pool, up and over his fingers. Silas didn't flinch, but Tommy's gaze was locked on the pool. His body was torn between what held him in place and the terror that rose like bile in the back of his throat. The bile took on an earthy taste of loam and sap, and he remembered. He flashed on the trail behind Silas' store and the deep grass, the leaves and the soaring trees. The pool swirled faster and he lifted his gaze to meet those of the two men standing across from him. Silas moved on. He slipped around behind Tommy and started back the far side of Elspeth's body, dipping his hand into the frothing pool and splashing the water over her form.
Silas stepped up to the foot of the pool, between Elspe
th Carlson's spread-eagled legs. Her jeans were soaked. Her shirt clung to her like a second skin, but the water did not seem as clear as it had when Silas dipped it out. It was green, and it clung like syrup. Like sap. It wound its way down Elspeth's body and dropped into the pool with loud, counterpoint splashes that somehow matched the chanting and the churning of the water to form a single chaotic, but deeply organized sound.
Silas reached out to the man on his left. A single serpent wound free of the man's throat and slid around Silas' arm. It slithered inward, coiled once around his throat, as if it might squeeze, and then arced up and across the gap between Silas and Elspeth.
The girl was beyond thought. Her body responded to each touch as if she were being assaulted by blowtorches. Her head was thrown back so that the ends of her hair nearly touched the water of the pool. In fact, it would have done so, but Tommy Murphy had his hands under her shoulders, and her long hair dangled across his arms. He felt the fire too, but not in the same way as Elspeth, and not to the same degree. His fire was concentrated, below, and at the tips of his fingers—through the palms of his hands. Hers consumed.
The serpents coiled and slithered from all sides. They ran down the arms of those who held her in place, circling Elspeth's legs, coiling around her arms and her waist, under and through her clothes, and all the while the chant continued. The water dripped. The pool swirled. Something moved in the depths. The surface was green and frothy and the liquid in the pool was thick.
Silas felt the connection form. He felt the eyes of the watcher bore through him, even as her hair sprang like talons through the stone and into the water. The shadow rose, huge and powerful above and just behind him. In that moment he felt a dislocation. He wanted to scream. The pain of the separation threatened to tear him to pieces, but he reached out, laid one hand on each of Elspeth's ankles, and pressed down firmly.
The others felt the motion and didn't fight it. They lowered Elspeth toward the pool with exquisite precision. The water sped, swirling so quickly that some of it sluiced to the sides and over the edge of the pool. It dripped down to the floor, soaking the pants of those standing closest. Tommy felt the wet chill of it. When the liquid splashed against him it was hot and thick, but the second the droplets lost contact with the pool they were simply water. His jeans were soaked and he felt the cold water slip down his ankles and into his boots.
It should have felt good. The sun outside was hot, and there was little circulation in the church, but Tommy shivered. Icicles drove into his feet and numbed his skin. His arms burned. The closer they came to the surface of the pool, the hotter the points of contact with Elspeth's flesh became. Tommy's mind screamed at him to pull back, to let her drop, hit her head on the side of the pool, and be done with it. He held his ground.
Whatever was in the baptismal pool splashed again, and Tommy had the sudden image of an aquarium. He saw tiny flakes of golden brown food dropping to the surface. He saw Elspeth. Fish swarmed up from the depths of his memory, snatching the food from the surface and dragging it down. Eat or be eaten was the rule in the water. Whoever was bigger and faster than you was the one to eat you.
To his right, Irma Creed gripped Elspeth's arm and shoulder. Tommy saw Irma tremble, and knew she felt the fire. To his right a man he barely knew as Jason had the same, focused expression. What he might be focused on was anyone's guess. Tommy's forehead throbbed. He had to think between the thudding bursts of pain, and there wasn't much time between each.
Ed Murphy stood between Silas and Irma, a little closer to Irma than necessary, Tommy noted, but no one seemed to care. In fact, their legs touched in the center.
The chant softened and dropped into the background. Silas held Elspeth's ankles and spoke.
"We bring this offering to be cleansed. Water," he glanced down, "Fire," his hands sizzled where they touched Elspeth's flesh, "Earth," her legs and shoulders brushed the stone of the pool and the contact became solid, as if Elspeth and the pool were a single object, "and Air." Silas breathed this last, and his breath rose from deep inside, tearing up through him and drawn from his contact with the stone floor, stretching up and filling the huge horned shadows, blowing hot and tepid over their faces and arms. Those gathered swayed like the serpents they bore, and those snakes still wrapped around Elspeth's body fled, leaping up and out, away from the heat of her flesh and the depths of the pool, finding purchase on those who held the girl in place and coiling tightly.
Silas' breath shifted and became a long, beseeching cry. The shadow thing that outlined him against the dying late afternoon sunlight expanded. Silas blinked out like a burned bulb and that other, huge and silent, bent to place huge dark hands on Elspeth's flesh. She bent double as they released her, and slipped into the pool. Her arms and legs rose into the air and her eyes opened in sudden shock as she spun, turning in quick circles like something caught in a drain, and disappeared.
The snap of release blocked the light of the room and the voice of the chant. Those who had held the girl fell backward into the spiral of men and women behind them. They were caught, held upright and absorbed. The horned shadow threw back its head and roared to the sky as energy rippled down the length of the line of worshipers. They leaned into one another, rolling along like dominos toward the far end, lost in the bowels of the church, until at last the final body came up against the wall. Fibrous, wooden hair shot out from the wall and clamped over the man's body. He cried out and tore away from the obscenity of that touch, and the spiral whipped back the other direction. There was no control in this motion. Bodies tumbled aside as they passed the shock to the next in line and fell away.
The water in the pool boiled. From the depths of the shadow creature at the foot of the pool, Silas Greene's arms emerged, gripping the sides of the pool and yanking free. The line of energy snaked into the rear chamber, drove through the final dozen faithful and slammed into Silas' back. He gasped, his eyes blazing, and he plunged his arms into the waters of the pool. He stopped just short of allowing his face to make contact with the surface, and then he drew back. He strained, arched his back, and drew Elspeth from the pool.
At first he didn't have the strength for it. He pulled, and the water that was no longer water held, dragging her back like green quicksand. Then the shadow lent its strength and Silas pulled again. Elspeth came free with a wet, sucking sound, and Silas fell back onto the stone floor, her body falling over his and drenching him.
He shook his head. His hands and arms tingled from the burning sensation. He was soaked from head to foot, but it was only water. Cool, clear water.
Elspeth coughed and spit. Silas stared into her eyes and gasped. In that moment is was not Elspeth Carlson who stared at him. Deep, ancient eyes glared straight through his soul. Hair like wooden rope shot out from the sides of that ancient, weathered face. Then Elspeth coughed again, and the moment passed. She trembled and tried to lift herself off of Silas's prone form. He lifted her to the side and extricated himself.
Silas stood and placed a hand gently on the girl's forehead. She glanced up again, her eyes wide, and he saw it. Directly in the center of her forehead was the mark, a dark swirl, like a serpent, or a question mark. He reached down, took her hand and helped her stand.
All around them the others climbed back to their feet. A murmur of voices rose, confused whispers and muttered curses. The floor in the back chamber was wet, but not as wet as it seemed it should be. There were snakes, but only a few, and these were quickly gathered up and placed in their glass tanks. Silas took it all in and shook his head. The darkness had receded somewhat, and he had full control of his limbs.
The church seemed decayed. What had been bright, newly painted walls were dingy. The long shadows of late afternoon cut across the failing beams of sunlight slipping in the windows. The dark water stains on the floor pooled like bloodstains. He did not turn to the alcove above the door. The sensation of eyes digging into the back of his head and drawing on his energy had diminished, and he didn't want to rea
waken it.
The doors remained closed. The others filed out of the back chamber and took seats in the pews. Some of them limped; others needed help to find their seats. The tumbling avalanche of flesh had left them battered and worn. All of the energy had drained from the room.
Tommy staggered out through the curtains and stood a few feet away from Silas. He didn't take a seat with the others. He was thinking about a dance they'd held a few years back. He remembered bright torches, and loud music, too much to drink and dancing. He also remembered the morning after. Everything had faded. The stage had been alive with music and sound, but by morning sunlight it was desolate. It was difficult to picture in his mind how it had been the night before, or why it had seemed so full of magic.
The church felt that way in the aftermath of the "cleansing." The shadows were long and deep, the light from the windows was dimmed. In the light of everyday normalcy, what had happened seemed somehow unreal. It was as if what had happened was a dream he'd awakened from to—this.
He glanced at Elspeth. She watched him in return, wary, but no longer appearing ready to bolt at the first opportunity. Silas still held her hand, but a moment later he dropped it. He stepped closer to Tommy and spoke, keeping his voice low.
"It's time for your brother to bring the other one," he said softly. "It won't be long before they come. We have taken one of their daughters, after all."
Silas turned back and smiled thinly at Elspeth. Her clothing was still damp, and it clung to her slight form like a second skin. There was no trace of the thick, green liquid. She shivered and clutched her arms tightly about herself, though it was stiflingly hot in the church.
Tommy nodded. "I'll bring them," he said. Then he pointed at Elspeth. "I'm taking her with me."
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