Isaac whirled around the altar, his arms upraised, clutching the rifle, his face scarlet with fury. "Sit up now, Spawn of Molech. Watch and be enlightened. Behold, the Children of the True Church arrive to witness your return to hell."
Frances, May and Alain huddled close together on the altar, Alain's long arms wrapped around both women. Flushed with anger, confusion and frustration, his heart pounded as he considered what action he might take. The enormous, threatening weapon in Rondeau's hands was daunting and terrifying, but Alain could not believe that he had met his sister, found his soul mate, only to lose them both to a fanatical maniac.
Shock had silenced May. She leaned weakly against her husband, making no sound, breathing shallowly.
The door at the far end surged open like an airtight lid on a canister. Following in a straight, silent line, the people appeared. Old and young, well dressed or in tattered jeans, faces grim and determined, they paraded up the aisle toward the altar, their eyes fixed on the three captors.
Incredulous, Frances, Alain and May recognized a few of the faces. A man who passed by on the street in Burchill. A couple who dropped off their car for repair. One who deposited her children at school every day. Another who had called the police to assist her in a domestic dispute.
None of them were the faces of criminals or convicts, or even local troublemakers. They looked ordinary. Merely downcast, as though they were a procession of disappointed parents facing juvenile delinquent children in a court of law.
A string of three men, at Isaac's direction, went to the first pew and dragged the mangled body off to the side of the building, hiding the dead man's face under a pile of altar cloths. A path of reddish brown marred the light wooden floor. A stench arose, a mixture of vomit, feces, urine and the acrid smell of death. As though they were immune to the sight and smell of murder, not one of the people turned his or her eyes from the altar.
Alain was horrified and acknowledged for the first time that he was terrified as well. These people, about thirty of them, obviously believed that he and his sister were guilty of a sin that warranted the greatest atonement of all. Death.
Unable to stop himself, he began to shout at them. "We were children when these events took place! My sister was little more than a baby. How can you blame us for whatever happened before we were even able to make decisions for ourselves? How can you be angry with two people who were innocent victims themselves? How can you blame my wife, who was not even there?"
In the stunned silence at his audacity, even as the rifle continued to be focused on the trio, Frances joined in.
"At least let May go. She has done absolutely nothing. She married Alain Reneaux. She did not know he was Ithamar Janot. She…"
By now, Isaac recovered from his surprise at the outbursts. He interrupted Frances by shoving her roughly with the barrel of the gun. She landed with a thud on the wooden platform, but immediately sat back up, defiance flushing her face.
May began to cry, while Alain strengthened his hold on the two women.
Just then, the door behind them opened widely and another shock hit them with the force of a giant burst of wind.
Aaron Sanderson literally pranced from the back of the church, dressed all in white robes. Swept up by an unseen manic force, he danced as he hit the altar platform, the wood shaking in response to his exaggerated physical performance. His face shone, his smile widened, his eyes darted back and forth. He was possessed.
His feet moved in a frenzied, wild routine, tapping, jumping, fox-trotting on the platform in complete rapture. Incredibly, the people stood and began to sway with him, clapping their hands in rhythm to his movements. He danced around May, Alain and Frances, laughing, snapping his fingers, flicking at their hair as he passed them.
For the first time, May spoke, her voice just loud enough to hear above the hands slapping in time.
"Aaron, Aaron, how can you do this?" she shouted at him, the tears flowing steadily, her voice muddy with grief.
Aaron froze. The crowd, as though pulled by strings, stopped clapping and sat down. The boy turned to May and gave her a pitying glance.
"The wife of Molech's spawn wants to know how we can do this," he said in a tone May had never heard from this child.
His voice was deep, confident, singsong. It resonated throughout the building, bouncing off the high ceilings and back onto the crowd before him.
"Let us forgive her, my people. She is truly an innocent. She really did not know the evil into which she entered. What do you say, my people?"
A chorus arose from the pews. "Amen!"
They called out as one, with certainty and force, as though this response was an answer to the question of guilt.
"You are forgiven, Mrs. Reneaux."
For a moment, he was the little schoolboy again, speaking to the secretary behind the desk.
"But what does forgiveness mean, my people? Does forgiveness mean absolution from atonement?"
The crowd shook their heads vigorously.
"Of course not. If you wallow in evil, if you receive the seed of Molech and do not denounce it, you will be slain by the sword. Did Mrs. Reneaux denounce her husband and his sister once she was aware of their beginnings?"
Once again, a shake of thirty-odd heads in response encouraged him to continue.
"Of course not! She must atone, along with the others. Is this judgment correct?"
The same chorus of "Amen" reverberated throughout the building. When the currents of sound subsided, they were replaced with insane laughter from Aaron Sanderson. He resumed his dancing, the tune unheard by anyone except himself, while the crowd accompanied him with clapping, knee slapping, humming and shouts of "Amen," "Praise the Lord," or "Tell us, Brother."
Aaron made his dizzying way around the building. The crowd, pulled by his string of power, followed him by turning physically in their seats to wherever he appeared.
Out of breath, the boy finally returned to the dais and leaned against the altar, staring out at the people. A heavy silence fell onto the cavernous room.
Frances did not watch the performance. Instead, she continued to assess their situation, looking for some way to escape. The back door had been left completely open.
Rondeau, though he still held the rifle in their direction, was visibly distracted by Aaron's performance.
Her police training told her that trying to rush a person holding such a weapon was foolish, but she knew that, in this case, inaction was also unwise. Perhaps, if she could get Alain to work in concert with her, they could overturn the power position. No one else visibly had a firearm. Someone may have a hidden weapon, but that was a chance they would have to take.
Just as she mulled over their odds in overpowering Rondeau, the massive entrance doors opened once more. In came the Sanderson children, all but Cate, along with their mother, Dorothy, who was dressed in similar fashion to her son.
Even Aaron showed her deference. As she approached, it was apparent that here was the real power broker. Here was the person who orchestrated this entire scene. And like the conductor that she was, Dorothy Sanderson filed her silent, tear-stained offspring into the front pew, forcing them to step over blood and entrails, while she continued her march to the altar.
She stepped toward Aaron, without a single glance at the three captives, until she stood at her son's right side, her hand possessively placed on his shoulder.
"Aaron, the Anointed One," she announced in a voice both booming and proud.
"Children of the True Church, the moment has come. We shall free the world from evil tonight and begin the evangelization of all peoples. You will not only be witnesses tonight, you will be apostles. From here, you will spread to all corners of the earth to convey the message."
"Remember what the Lord has told us. 'If ye walk in My Statutes, and keep My Commandments, and do them, I will give peace in the land, and ye shall lie down, and none shall make you afraid. I will rid evil beasts out of the land. And ye shall chase your en
emies, and they shall fall before you by the sword. And five of you shall chase a hundred, and a hundred of you shall put ten thousand to flight: and your enemies shall fall before you by the sword.'"
"Thus this small group of the True Church shall become hundreds, thousands, millions."
The crowd once again got to its feet, swaying and moaning, some shouting about the glories of God, some with eyes closed in ecstasy.
The Sanderson children reluctantly stood too, looking bewildered and afraid. It was clear that they had never before attended one of their mother and brother's performances. This had been their father's stage.
Carl Sanderson once again tried to sit up. The children's eyes scurried between his struggles and the obvious terror from three people they had come to respect and know at their school, their haven of safety. When their mother spoke, their mouths opened in astonishment and abject fear.
"But I say to thee," Dorothy Sanderson intoned in the style of a fire-and-brimstone preacher, "those who oppose us and do not listen to the word, they will suffer as the Lord tells us. 'Ye shall be slain before your enemies. They that hate you shall reign over you. And ye shall flee when none pursue you. And if ye will not yet for all this hearken unto me, then I will punish you seven times more for your sins. And ye shall eat the flesh of your sons and the flesh of your daughters shall ye eat.'"
She moved from the altar to stand directly in front of the people.
"Behold, we have finally been blessed with the Anointed One."
She turned and gestured toward Aaron, who resumed his twists and jumps around the dais.
"Others have tried and failed, where he will succeed. Others did not have the power. They did not have the will."
The crowd supported her with their chants, shouting "Hallelujah" to their God.
"This special boy, though he is but a child, has the power to overcome. He has the will. He has the sanction from the Lord."
During this tirade, delivered in a loud, confident voice, Carl Sanderson slowly eased himself to a sitting position. As though goaded by the droning of his wife's discourse into finding hidden depths of strength, he straightened his shoulders and held his head high. As she took a breath, he spoke into the momentary silence.
"Wife!" His voice was surprisingly strong now, determined and angry. "You have mistaken the lessons. Remember that the Lord says, when atonement has been made, he shall bring the offerings unto the priest, who shall offer that which is for the sin, and the priest shall make an atonement for him for his sin which he hath sinned, and IT SHALL BE FORGIVEN HIM."
The last was a shout that rolled over the congregation like waves of icy ocean water, causing the people in the pews to lapse into complete silence, even as they glanced at one another, clearly confused as to whom they should listen.
"The children of Aaron are asked to make confession and to provide offerings of animals or bread and wine. They are to be given the opportunity to do so. And should they agree to follow the rituals of atonement, they ARE TO BE FORGIVEN."
As Carl continued to speak, the attention swung from Dorothy and her son to the husband/father. Bolstered by the palpable awareness and feelings of uncertainty emanating from the crowd, the older man gathered strength.
"You must look to the past to see the future. I learned the lessons from the greatest preacher that ever lived. The Lord is a forgiving God…"
Dorothy broke into sarcastic laughter. "The greatest preacher that ever lived."
She spit in derision.
"He was weak minded. Even when he was urged, when he was convinced of the Lord's command, he could not kill the spawn of Molech. Even the witch herself could not stand the sight of her devil child. She was left to strangle it to death and all he could do was deliver it to the water."
Carl pulled himself onto a small bench, where he suddenly regained his poise and authority.
"My people, look at me, listen carefully. This woman speaks of murder. She speaks of leading others to commit barbaric acts. The Lord our God wants us to evangelize, not kill. We are to be relentless in convincing others to join us. We are not here to make the final judgment. Only the Lord can do that. We are…"
While Sanderson continued to lecture, Frances noticed that Isaac had not only turned his attention to the right side of the altar, he had unconsciously lowered the rifle. He too appeared mesmerized by the contest of wills, unable to focus or decide.
Frances gently nudged Alain. She signalled with a sideways turn of her eyes toward the man with the weapon.
Alain, telepathically, understood immediately what she wanted to do. He nodded his head briefly.
She put cold fingers on his arm and counted, one, two, and three.
In concert, they leapt to their feet and flung themselves toward Isaac Rondeau.
Chapter 57: Skhole
Renae finally returned to the school office, looking almost as worried and harassed as Edgar.
"I can't get any of my usual foster parents to take Cate in for tonight," she said. "Mary Jo Samuels has gone away for a few days and I've tried three others, but…"
"I'll take her with me," Emily blurted out.
Renae looked at her, startled. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm very sure. She's comfortable with me and Langford. We can make her feel very secure for the night or longer if we need to. I want to feel useful and I think this is the way to do it. Plus I really care about that little girl."
Renae nodded. "Okay. That's wonderful, Emily. It really is. It's the best solution I could have asked for."
Just then, the bell rang shrilly in their ears and the trampling feet of students fleeing resounded from all sides.
Renae faced the others, particularly Edgar, who was still standing, agitated and ready to move.
"When Lynda called the Sanderson home, Dorothy told her that Aaron had been taken to the church for his father to deal with. Now I think we better break it to Mrs. S. that not only can her son not come back into that house, but we're also putting her daughter into foster care. I'd like to do it in person, because I want to make sure Aaron really isn't there."
"After that, we'll either have to go to the church or wait until the boy is brought back home. I have a place for him at the juvenile center in Merrickville for tonight until we can bring charges. Now that the dismissal bell has gone, we should get moving."
She seemed to realize that her approach was rather bossy.
"If you are able to accompany me, of course."
Little did Emily know, as she idly watched the children streaming out the doors, buses and cars jamming the driveway, that a large station wagon had pulled into the pick-up lane. Doors opened and seven children filled up the seats.
"Absolutely," Edgar said. "Let's go. I wish I could reach Frances, though. I can't understand why she's not answering her phone. And Marty can't raise her on the car radio."
"She's probably too engrossed with May and Alain," Emily suggested. "I'll keep calling her while you deal with this, if you like. I can even drop in at their place."
Edgar's face lit up. "That would be wonderful, Em. I'll go with Renae then. I'll have my phone on, so please don't hesitate to call or leave a message if I don't answer. Tell Frances the same when you see her, okay?"
They say their good-byes. Lynda and Emily stand quietly for a moment, breathing in the relative silence of a school abandoned by its children.
The principal could still feel a shiver of tension and disbelief tickling the hairs of her arms.
"Lynda, I was considering taking Cate home right away," Emily said finally. "Please tell me if you're not okay being left after such a day."
Lynda looked at her and uncharacteristically touched the other woman gently on the shoulder.
"Emily, you are the one who has borne the brunt of everything today. I'm fine. Really. You take that little girl and give her at least one night of security and affection."
Emily's eyes filled with tears for a moment and then she nodded and began to pack up. She
was grateful that for once she had brought the car, because a few minutes later, Catherine Sanderson and Emily Taylor were on their way.
"I'm just going to stop by Mrs. Reneaux's house, Cate," she told the girl. "I won't be minute. I want to let Constable Petapiece know that she needs to call her husband."
Cate, drained and lethargic from her emotional afternoon, simply nodded her head sleepily as she rested against the seat and then closed her eyes.
As soon as Emily drove up in front of May and Alain's house, she knew there was something very wrong. The front door hung wide open. Alain's truck was in the driveway, but there was no sign of Frances's car. When she knocked on the screen, only silence echoed in response.
Emily stepped into the living room, calling her friends' names, but she could tell that there was absolutely no one there.
Pausing for a moment back on the porch, ensuring that Cate still dozed in the front seat, Emily was about to make a call on her cell.
At that moment, she heard a discordant ringing coming from somewhere in the grass. When she found the little phone, Edgar's familiar number flashed back at her. She pressed talk.
"Ed, it's Emily," she said.
She could hear his confusion, though he was stunned into a moment's silence before he barked out his questions.
"Why are you answering Frances's cell? Is she there with you?"
"No, I'm so sorry, she's not. I found the phone on May's lawn. No one's here and the front door was left wide open. Frances's car is gone. I think something's very wrong."
"OK. We're heading to the Sanderson place right now and then to the church in Norvale. I'll call for backup."
But he was no longer talking to Emily. He had switched into emergency mode and immediately disconnected.
Emily hurried back to the car and headed home.
When at last they pulled into the driveway, Emily realized suddenly that she had not told her husband about their surprise houseguest.
The Emily Taylor Mystery Bundle Page 63