He watched the group approach the open gate. He felt like a missile hurtling through space, nearing its target. It seemed that his entire life had been directed toward this moment.
5
Emma ran into the front hallway to answer the bell. She hadn't heard a car, so it could only be Carol.
Probably drenched, poor thing!
She reached for the knob but hesitated. A warning sounded somewhere in her brain. Something wasn't right. She peeked through one of the etched sidelights and was startled by the sight of the three men standing there. Where on earth had they come from?
"Who is it?"
"Mrs. Stevens?" said a voice. "We'd like to speak to you a moment."
"About what?"
"About your husband."
About Jonah? Something weird was going on here. Emma peeked again through the sidelight and studied the men more closely. She gasped when she recognized the thin, pale one—he had been outside the gate the day Jimmy died.
"I know who you are!" she shouted. "Get away from here before I call the police!"
But she had no intention of giving them a chance to leave. She was going to call the police right now. Sergeant Hall had said that if any one of those nuts showed his face around
Monroe again, she should call him and he'd pick them up right away. She lifted the receiver but there was no dial tone. Oh, no!
The storm must have— Just then one of the leaded stained-glass windows in the dining room shattered as an ax smashed through it.
6
Carol was almost hysterical. It took every ounce of restraint Jonah had within him to keep from reaching over the backrest and knocking her senseless. She more than deserved it for endangering the One this way, but he had to keep her confidence. If he was to protect her, she had to trust him, depend on him.
"I'm having Satan's child, aren't I? Isn't that what's happening? Isn't it? What else could explain what happened back there?"
"For the tenth time now, Carol," he said through clenched teeth, "you're havin' Jim's baby—my grandson. I don't know where you get this fool Satan idea. Satan's got nothin' to do with that baby."
He hoped the truth of that last statement came through in his voice. Of course, the real truth wouldn't have made her feel any better, maybe even worse, but he had to calm her. Her emotional state was threatening to cause the One to miscarry.
"Then how do you explain the statue of Christ coming alive?" she sobbed. "And Mary—and the snake! You'd almost think they were trying to make me miscarry!"
And you would be right! Jonah thought.
The other side had come close to succeeding today, playing through Carol's religious superstitions to fill her with guilt and terror. It had failed this time, but it would try again. Jonah would have to be ever vigilant against the next attempt. But right now, for the sake of the One, he had to calm this frantic young woman.
"I didn't see none of that, Carol," he said, lying easily. "The statues looked the same as ever to me."
"But the snake! You pulled it from my leg!"
"I'm sorry, Carol, but I didn't see no snake anywhere in the church. I just happened to stop in to get out of the hail and found you screaming like a banshee in the middle of the aisle."
She pulled herself up to a sitting position and stared at him with haunted eyes over the backrest.
"But it couldn't have been just my imagination! It was too real!"
"You been through some awful times lately, what with what happened to Jim and then the funeral and all, and then near losin' the baby, and all that bleedin' "—he glanced at her over his shoulder to emphasize the next—"and not followin' your doctor's orders to rest and stay off your feet, ain't no wonder you started seeing things! You're lucky that's the worst of it. You could've gone an' lost the baby for sure this time."
Jonah was pleased with the fluidity of his ad-libbed explanations. He could almost believe them himself.
"I know," she said, slumping back to a reclining position on the rear seat. "I was stupid. But I think the baby's okay. I mean, the pain's gone now and there's been no more bleeding."
Lucky for you, he thought. If she lost the One, he would kill her. Slowly.
"But what about that flaming cross almost killing us," she said. "You can't tell me I imagined that!"
" 'Course not. The church got hit by lightning, the cross got knocked through the roof and ceiling, and that was it. We were lucky."
"But the glow!"
"St. Elmo's fire. Used to see it out on the farm during storms when I was a boy. Scary but harmless."
"You and Bill—you've got an explanation for everything!"
"You mean that priest fellow?"
"Yes. He says I should forget all this Satan nonsense and concentrate on having a healthy baby."
Jonah smiled ruefully. He never thought he'd ever find himself on the same side as a priest.
"I couldn't agree more, young lady. We all want that boy to be safe an' strong."
"Boy? Do you think it's going to be a boy?"
"Sure do." I know it!
"I have that feeling too. I think I'll name him James, after his father."
"That'll be nice." He has no father, but name him anything you want. It won't matter.
"Thanks for coming when you did, Jonah. You saved my life."
"Think nothing of it."
Because your life means nothing to me without the One.
7
"Where is she?" said the thin, pale one.
Emma glared up from her chair at the men who surrounded her. The one with the ax had climbed through the smashed window and unlocked the front door for the rest. They wanted Carol, but Emma would die before telling them.
"She's gone. Gone for the week. Gone for a rest."
"Really?" said the thin one. "When did she leave?"
"Straight from the hospital."
"She's lying," he said to the others. "We spoke to her here on the phone earlier this afternoon."
Two of the men hurried down from the upper levels.
"No one upstairs."
"Come on, lady," said the thin one. "We have no intention of harming you. We just want to find Carol Stevens."
"What do you want with her?"
"We'll take that up with her."
She didn't like the sound of that. What could—
Suddenly one of the men shouted, "There's a car coming in!"
"Do you feel it?" the thin one said in a hushed voice, his eyes wide and bright with excitement. "Do you feel it? It's her!"
Emma tried to scream out a warning but a hand clamped over her mouth.
8
By the time Jonah realized something was wrong, it was too late.
Carol was still shaky when they got back to the mansion, so he got her out of the car and had an arm around her waist as he helped her through the light rain and up to the front door. As soon as he stepped into the foyer, he sensed the danger. He spun Carol around to get her back to the car but suddenly there were four men facing him on the front porch—and more coming from the house.
"Who are you?" Carol said to them.
"We just want to talk to you, Mrs. Stevens," said someone from behind them. Jonah turned and saw a pale, thin man standing inside the foyer. "Come in. Please."
Jonah's mind raced. He knew who they were and sensed why they were here. Inside the mansion, death awaited the One.
I can't let this happen!
"Recognize them?" he said to Carol. "They're the ones who were here last Sunday. They killed Jim."
"Oh, God," she said. He could feel her anger feeding strength into her body as she straightened and stood on her own. Her voice gained a sharper edge. "Who the hell are you and why are you here?"
"My name is Martin," the man said. He motioned the others away from the door. "Please come in. I'll explain everything."
Jonah had calculated their total number at half a dozen or so, but only a few stood between Carol and freedom. If he could keep them occupied�
�
"Let's go in," Jonah said, taking her arm as if to guide her through the door. "Let's hear what they have to say."
As Carol stared at him in disbelief he watched the strangers. He saw them relax. They thought they had won. That was when Jonah made his move.
Whirling, he shoved Carol toward the porch steps, shouting, "Run!"
Continuing the same motion, he grabbed two of the strangers and flung them into the other two. There was an instant of confusion on the porch. He saw Carol stumbling down the steps, looking back with a white, frightened face.
"Lock yourself in the car and go!" he shouted.
Then someone leapt onto his back. Then another. And then a third. As he went to his knees under the weight he saw Carol reach the car. Mentally he cheered her on.
Go, girl! Get away from here! Run them down on the way out!
9
With a scream welling her throat, Carol pulled the car door open and threw herself into the front seat.
Safe!
But as she went to slam the door, someone grabbed the outside handle and yanked it back. The waiting scream broke free!
"Stay away from me! Leave me alone!"
She looked up into the bland face and gentle eyes of someone who could have been an accountant or a hot-dog vendor or a department manager at Macy's. But there was no mistaking the determination as he stood there in the rain and stared down at her.
"We have no wish to harm you, Mrs. Stevens."
"Then let me go!"
"I'm afraid we can't do that. At least not at the moment." He held out his hand to assist her from the car. She noticed that it was bandaged; so was his other hand. He pulled it back as if he had suddenly changed his mind. "Please come with me."
Another man, about ten years older but equally bland-looking, came up beside him and looked down at her. Both his hands were bandaged too. Despite her fear, she was struck by the strangeness of all those bandages.
"Please don't fear us," the second one said. "We're only here to help you."
Both their expressions showed a strange mixture of serenity and implacable purpose. Here was a pair who had found the answer to all things in life. No further questions were necessary.
The effect was chilling.
She looked past them to the porch where four men were still struggling to subdue Jonah. The first followed her gaze.
"We mean him no harm, either. Come."
Carol fought the hysteria straining against the underside of her diaphragm. They seemed sincere about meaning her no harm, yet something within her screamed in fear at the look in their eyes.
But what choice did she have? She was outnumbered and outflanked. They were out of sight of the road, and none of the neighbors were close enough to hear her if she screamed. Her arms and legs felt leaden, too weak to put up a struggle, too heavy to run very far.
And up on the porch they had Jonah on his feet and were leading him inside.
"All right," she said. "I'll come. Just don't touch me."
That seemed to be the farthest thing from their minds. Both men stepped back out of her way, but she noticed that the first kept a firm grip on the door handle.
They followed her to the porch. The one who had called himself Martin was waiting there. He spoke to the men with her.
"Go signal Brother Robert."
The second one trotted off toward the road.
Carol wondered at the significance of that as Martin preceded her into the front hallway. Then she heard Emma's breathless voice coming from the parlor.
"—tried to warn you, Jonah, but they gagged me and pulled me into the back room!"
Carol followed Martin into the parlor where one of the men was tying Jonah into one of the chairs as two others steadied his arms. In the doorway to the dining room stood Emma, flanked by two more of the men.
And they all had bandages on their hands. What did that mean?
"Carol!" she said. "I'm so glad you're all right! I was so worried!"
Carol was suddenly furious at these interlopers. The Hanley mansion didn't really feel like her house, and so she had not reacted as instinctively as she might have had they been in the old family cottage. But with the sight of the smashed leaded window, the shattered glass on the carpet, the axes leaning against the wall, something changed within her. She suddenly felt protective toward this old place. This was her house, and it probably had been these people who'd burned her out of her old home. And now they were making themselves right at home here! And tying up her father-in-law!
She stormed into the parlor.
"Get out! All of you, get out of my house!"
"We'll be leaving soon," Martin said, unperturbed.
"Not soon! Now! I want you all out of here now!" She strode to where they were binding Jonah's wrists to the arms of the chair. "Stop that! Untie him immediately!"
The men glanced up at her, then at Martin, then continued tying their knots.
"All in good time," Martin said. "But there's someone I think you ought to talk to first before you get too upset."
Carol was ready to scream at him when she heard the sound of tires splashing through the puddles on the driveway. She glanced through the front window and saw three cars pulling in. None of them looked familiar. As she watched, the doors opened and a number of women got out—five in all—and a bearded man in monk's robes with the cowl pulled up over his head. As they approached the front porch she recognized the short, portly figure in the lead.
"Aunt Grace!"
"Grace?" Emma shouted from the far side of the room. "Grace Nevins? She's with them? I should have known! She helped them kill my Jimmy!"
Carol barely heard her. Aunt Grace was here! That was good. Emma was just overwrought. There was nothing to fear from Aunt Grace. She had taken her parents' place after they were killed. If she knew these people, she'd straighten everything out.
10
Grace had sensed the evil within the house as she stepped up onto the porch. But when she entered and saw Carol dash across the front hallway, running toward her with outstretched arms, it slammed against her like a mailed fist.
"Aunt Grace! Help us! We're being held prisoner here!"
Grace willed herself not to recoil as Carol clung to her. But holding her trembling niece was like embracing a sack of maggots. There could be no doubt now—the Antichrist was within her. Grace Nevins was suddenly filled with righteous rage at Satan for doing this to her own niece. How dare he!
"You'll be fine, dear," she said, stroking her niece's long, damp hair.
I will free you from your affliction. I will rip the corruption from within you and return you to your old unsullied self.
She hated herself for being so deceitful. For despite her desire to free Carol from Satan, she dreaded the ugly scene to come and wanted to put off the unpleasantness as long as she could, to compress it and concentrate it into the shortest possible length of time, into a tiny, bitter pill that could be downed in a single swallow.
"Aunt Grace, do you know these people?"
"Yes. Yes, I do. I've known them since Ash Wednesday."
"Can you get them out of here?"
"Don't you worry. You know I wouldn't let anything happen to my niece. Just relax. Tomorrow this will all seem like a dream and you'll be fine. In fact, you'll be better than you are right now."
You'll be free of the loathsomeness growing inside you.
She felt Carol relax, but there was still fear in her niece's eyes when she leaned back and looked at her.
"Just get them out of here. Please? You should see what they've done to Jonah!"
"Show me."
She followed Carol into the room to the right. She had never seen a house like this, so ornate, so cluttered. She stopped at the threshold, startled by the sight of Jonah Stevens, trussed in a chair and straining at his bonds.
"You!" Jonah shouted when he saw her. His single eye glared at her from a rage-distorted face. "I might have known you'd be involved in this!"
Might have known? What did he mean by that?
But it was Emma who suddenly dominated the scene. She pulled away from the two Chosen guarding her and lunged across the room at Grace, her fingers curved like talons, screaming at the top of her voice.
"It's you! You killed my Jimmy! Yooouuu!"
Grace shrank back from the attack, and luckily the other Chosen were able to grab and restrain Emma before she reached her. Emma's words became raving gibberish and she screamed and spit and bit and kicked at her captors as they dragged her to the floor. She was like a madwoman, like a wounded wild animal! Finally, whether from exhaustion or the realization that she was helpless, Grace couldn't say, Emma calmed down and lay there on the flowered carpet, panting and grunting.
Wounded. Yes, she had been wounded, hadn't she? Poor Jim wasn't to blame for being born without a soul. He had been used by Satan to impregnate poor Carol and then discarded. Her heart went out to poor Emma for her loss, but that did not make Grace fear her rage any less.
Jim used, Carol used. And Carol, no doubt destined to be discarded like Jim after she'd served her purpose and delivered the Antichrist. It was all so dirty, so treacherous. Well, Grace would put an end to all of that here today.
She watched with relief as they lifted Emma from the floor and prepared to tie her into a chair like her husband. She wailed piteously.
"She killed my Jimmy! She killed my Jimmy and she's got to pay for it!"
"Emma, please!" Carol was saying. "Grace had nothing to do with that!" She turned pleading eyes on her. "Did you, Aunt Grace?"
Grace shook her head.
In a way, she told herself, her denial was true. She had been against that first trip to Monroe, hadn't wanted to come along, and had stayed in the car throughout the whole tragic confrontation.
"She lies!" Jonah cried. "She was there! I saw her in one of the cars!"
Carol stared at her. "That's not true, is it?"
Grace could not bring herself to lie to her niece. "You have to understand, Carol. I—"
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