by S. L. Wright
At the altar, Dread placed his hands palm down, one on top of the other, on the woman’s forehead. Quietly the group chanted in unison, their voices melding into a continuous drone. The woman’s face twinged with each indrawn breath. Dread drew off her agony as hard as he could without hurting her. They stayed frozen in that tableau for what felt like a long time until the woman sighed and indicated she was ready to get up. Her aura wasn’t as poisonously dark now. But it was depleted more than I would have dared.
With a final benediction from Dread, the circle finally split. I didn’t have to hold Dread’s hand again. And Theo let go of June’s hand. I tried to shake off the vaguely sadomasochistic fog of absorbing at the same time Cherie’s rapturous devotion and the pain from the other woman.
Now that the worst was over; it was much easier to talk to everyone. I tried to ask questions about the church so they wouldn’t keep probing me; this was my old bartender’s trick. Since Dread was feeding from them, clasping everyone’s hand reverently, I did the same, freely soaking up the euphoria created by the circle. Touching people in the right way created intimacy, very compelling for the demons who learned how to do it properly. Vex had founded this church on touch, relying on the circle of hands to inspire closeness among the fellows.
But that didn’t account for the almost-worshipful way they looked at me. They, including their celebrity, Cherie, gathered round as if they didn’t want to miss the chance to talk to me. My casual touches seemed to encourage them.
I had lost sight of Theo in the crowd, when Dread finally appeared to extract me from their admiring embrace. Lowering his voice so only I could hear, Dread said, “Vex won’t be back for another few hours. But he asked me to show you around.” He steered me to the inner door.
“You talked to him?”
“Early this morning. He’s flying back now.”
June appeared behind us with Theo in tow. Dread nodded in approval. “Come on, I’ll show both of you around the Fellowship complex.”
I wasn’t sure what kind of game he was playing. He was fooling Theo and June—and all of these other people—about who I was. But why?
I wanted to get rid of Theo before Vex came back. But I also wondered if Dread’s little act had something to do with the wild sex I’d almost had with Theo last night. I needed to know for sure. If there were no prying eyes in the VIP loft, then I would be able to call Michael before I saw Vex.
So I agreed, and Dread proceeded to give us the grand tour. The Prophet’s Center had dozens of finely decorated meeting rooms and reception halls, along with offices for the senior staff. The third floor had an airwalk linking the center to the building on the next block that housed administrative offices. The church also had a large publicity firm, dedicated to creating educational programs about their philosophy. Recruitment was well organized with banks of cubicles that mobilized truth-speakers to direct action in their communities. Local chapels could apply for monetary support for infrastructure and marketing materials to expand their circle.
Then we went outside and walked down to another white building that had a towering gold cross with flared arms painted on the side facing Manhattan. We stepped into an expansive lobby with an indoor playground for the community. It housed the Fellowship’s law library and legal assistance program that served grassroots and national campaigns against a variety of “big brother” laws—from the radical, such as eliminating penalties for recreational drug use and supporting the right to assisted suicide, to the socially conservative, such as backing the National Rifle Association’s stance on assault weapons, and the Southern Baptists’ attempts to abolish separation of church and state.
Some people protested the apparent contradictions in such causes, but there was a simplicity at the heart of the Fellowship; it was all about personal responsibility. Dread explained that their impact on America had been significant and was growing. They advocated drastically downsizing government and waste by setting up a system of “pay for what you use.” Their ideas included a citizens’ tax to pay for firemen and policemen; property tax to pay for water and sewage; businesses to pay for schools, local streets, and public areas; cars to be charged via wireless devices to drive on highways and across bridges to pay for maintenance. They also called for the abolishment of income tax and the draft. The popularity of the church had surged during the late 1960s and early 1970s, and again more recently during the Middle East wars and economic recession. Dread pointed to welfare and health-care reform as two of their most successful projects.
I would have gotten more caught up in our philosophical discussion, but Dread seemed to be going through his spiel on automatic, like a salesman extolling the virtues of a used car. I kept looking for the hidden hook in all of his pretty words.
He pointed out other buildings that housed the church’s newspaper publisher, real estate management company, one of the largest Internet service providers in the North-east, and assorted other businesses. There were little store-front restaurants and shops everywhere. I could imagine how busy the streets would be tomorrow when all of their employees returned to work on Monday.
The tour definitely impressed me. The church was a juggernaut on the roll, catching speed. What exactly was it intended to crush?
I couldn’t get over that I was a part of all this; a hidden, corrupt part of it, but part of it nonetheless. The tour concluded on the roof of the Prophet’s Center, in the garden that was at least a football field long. From this vantage point we could see another park on the roof of the Prophet’s Arena not far south of the bridge, on the edge of the Brooklyn Navy Yard.
The payments that had allowed that massive building to go up on the waterfront had passed through my bar.
Dread deftly separated Theo and me. June insisted on keeping Theo with her while a late lunch was served on a small iron table. June had been overtly flirtatious with him during the tour—at one point she had slipped her arm around his waist as she pointed down at a scaled three-dimensional map of the Fellowship complex. But Theo stayed by my side whenever Dread drifted away, and I was certain that he had no interest in her.
Dread took me into the long greenhouse, where we disappeared from their sight among the extravagantly lush plants and flowers. I was finally feeling more comfortable around him, despite his having stayed firmly in his prophet role for the past couple of hours. Maybe that was because I was getting used to the odd sliding sensation of his signature, so it wasn’t as disorienting.
I took advantage of having him alone to ask the most important question, “Have you found out who attacked Shock?”
“Not yet. I’ve checked everyone in our own line, and it’s not any of them. That leaves the rogues, of course, and all of the Glory demons.”
“Do you know of any demon able to hide its signature?” I asked.
“No, that’s impossible.” He was irritated. “I think you’ll find that Shock’s signature merely masked a lighter one. Vex will talk to you about it when he gets here.”
Maybe our tour of the church, bringing Theo in tow, had been designed to keep me from pestering him for answers that he wasn’t ready to give me. But he wanted to talk to me about something; otherwise he wouldn’t have brought me here where we could speak candidly. I raised my brows, looking at him expectantly.
He turned away, uncomfortable, as he fumbled with his phone, checking a text message. Then he finally looked up. “What are you going to do about your problem?” For a moment I didn’t understand; then his hand moved to his belly as if covering his core. “How are you going to replenish yourself?”
“Frankly, I haven’t thought about it. I’m too busy trying to figure out which demon got into my bar without my sensing it.”
“You must have felt the need growing for some time. You’re even more depleted than I am.” He hesitated again, but couldn’t help himself. “How can you withstand the urges?”
At his hungry, searching look, I wanted to take a couple steps backward. It was dangerous to tr
ead this ground. He could lose control and turn on me; he could try to steal my essence for himself. I shouldn’t have held his hand for so long during the church service. Even fully shielded, it may have been too tempting.
But he was opening up to me. I needed his help, and the only way to get it was if he trusted me. So I had to be honest. “I ignore it, I push it away, bury it in ordinary hunger. I stay too busy with people so that I can’t think about it. It’s not that hard—I’ve walled off that part of my life for a long time, along with Plea’s memories.”
“You don’t use the memories?” He seemed very surprised. “My wife and I compared everything—she knew Glory and I knew Vex, and it gave us an advantage—” He broke off, his mouth working slightly as if the pain of speaking of Lash were too much.
“You must have made a good team. You were together for eons.”
Dread nodded, and the benevolent mask of his persona slipped to reveal a broken man unused to expressing his true emotions. His hands were gripping each other so tightly that his fingers were white, as if he were barely holding on, fighting to get the words out. “Why him? Why Crave? He’s a filthy incubus! She used to laugh at him, the way he sweeps women off their feet, then runs away and toys with them until they’re obsessed with him. A stupid little game, the same one every time. And my wife… is with him now. Feeding him now. Giving him her offspring, when by right it belongs to me.”
He was red in the face, his voice raised, as spittle flew from his lips. Suddenly he looked like a demon, demented beyond reason.
“Maybe she made a mistake,” I suggested gently. “Maybe he convinced her she was different. But once she realizes she got caught up in spite of herself, it will be over. Then you can fix what’s gone wrong between the two of you.”
His fingers clenched as if wanting to throttle Crave, or perhaps his wife. “I would make her crawl every step of the way from Harlem; then I’d turn her away at the door.”
Yikes. Vindictive much?
Carefully, I said, “It couldn’t have been perfect between you for sixteen hundred years. People make mistakes. They change and grow. Haven’t you ever hurt her in some way?”
“Always, but I did it because she wanted it. This is different. She hurt me. She didn’t even tell me the night she left. She disappeared without a word. I made a fool of myself trying to locate her, only to be told that she was in his home, under his protection. She won’t even see me.”
So that was where his deep humiliation came from. Lash had turned the tables on him, and he couldn’t handle it.
Dread paced away a few steps, unable to contain himself. “She refuses to sit in the same room with me, even with others present. I asked Glory to intercede, but Lash won’t speak to me, despite her urging. Why is she rejecting me like this? I’ve done nothing but take care of her and give her what she needs.”
It seemed to me the loss of control had stunned Dread more than anything. He was fumbling, unsure of where to turn. “I’m sorry,” I said.
“She’s been spreading rumors, lies about me.… Vex was furious. I’m not sure if he believes me.”
Awkwardly Dread reached out and took my hand. His aura flared as he gave me his hurt and frustration, as well as his gratitude that I was there for him, listening to him, as he finally spoke his pain. His energy was dark and saturated—midnight blue and bloody purple, with a vein of burned ochre, as relief from my presence began to thread its way through him.
It was powerful, hitting me like a punch in the face. It was the kind of demon power I could get drunk on. Taking Petrify’s energy had made me too cocky yesterday. I needed to keep my head. But I was gulping him down as fast as he let me, feeling the supercharged energy coursing through my body.
Yet I was relieved when his phone rang, interrupting the intensity of the moment. He released my hand. I had to steady myself against a planter.
His posture straightened when he looked at the number. “Yes, of course,” he said crisply into the phone. He listened again, and agreed. “I’ll do that now.”
He closed the phone. “Vex’s plane just landed. He’ll be here shortly. But he’s asked me to show you something very special before he gets here. Your friend can’t see it.”
“Does it have to do with the attacks on Shock?”
“Yes, we think so.”
“Good.” I was ready to get some answers. Together we rejoined Theo and June. Theo gave me a slight smile, his eyes lighting up in relief at the sight of me.
I still didn’t know whether Dread had seen me with Theo last night. He was coldhearted enough that he might discount humans entirely, so it didn’t matter what I did with Theo. True, he had been nice enough when he answered Theo’s questions during our tour of the complex, but he never gave any indication that he thought Theo was any more than a feed bucket to me. I had tormented the poor man for nothing last night. It was time to cut the cord before big daddy arrived.
“I’ll have to say good-bye now, Theo,” I told him. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”
June made a slight sound of disappointment to hear that Theo was leaving. Dread shot her a chiding look, and she very prettily apologized. “I’m sorry; I didn’t realize Theo was going so soon.”
“I can stay,” Theo said easily.
June’s expression brightened, but I shook my head. “I have to go see an associate of Mr. Anderson’s.”
June immediately jumped in, “I can take him down to your loft, Ms. Meyers. We’ll wait there until you’re done.”
“Let me wait for you,” Theo offered.
I didn’t want him with June, and I didn’t want him here when Vex came back. The fewer live bodies that got in the way, the better. But I also didn’t want to get into an argument about it in front of Dread. In spite of our intense moments of connection, I didn’t trust Dread. I didn’t want him to know that Theo was important to me.
Theo held my gaze a moment longer, as if checking to be sure I was okay. I smiled reassuringly. “Okay, I’ll be back later.”
“Much later,” Dread added. He smiled to take the edge off his words, but I didn’t like it.
But I had to try to work with him. It was no worse than plastering a pleasant smile on my face with irritating patrons.
June tried to take Theo’s arm as they headed to the stairwell. I wondered if he would be able to scrape her off if she was truly determined to take him down.
I’m jealous, I realized. I’d been doing my best to distance myself from Theo all day, but I felt connected to him even across the room, joined together by every understanding glance.
It was past time for him to go home.
But first I needed to see what Dread had to show me. It looked like the gates were finally opening and I was going to get some real information.
I followed Dread down one flight to the top floor of the Prophet’s Center. He escorted me into a windowless media room near the elevators. Inside we sat down in one of the rows of overstuffed red chairs that swiveled and reclined back. The lights dimmed and I stared up at the big screen mounted on one wall.
“Zeal made this,” Dread explained. “She’s a genius when it comes to marketing and PR. She really knows how to grab the target audience in the guts.”
The computer graphics had a slick professionalism one expected from Madison Avenue, making it resemble a news show. The honey-voiced announcer explained, “You are going to witness a true miracle in this program, proved to be real by cutting-edge scientific research.”
As far as infomercials went, it hooked me. The announcer was a sultry brunette, and she introduced the new Electromagnetic Resonating Imaging (ERI) machine by circling it and pointing out its features. It was a large white oval with rounded edges and an inlaid panel on both sides. Someone stepped into the arched opening while a white- blue light bathed them. Using graphs and clips from various scientific experiments, she showed how the advanced ERI recorded the minute energy emanations from people using a highfrequency, high-voltage, l
ow-amperage electrical field.
A key point was that the frequencies exactly matched the color spectrum. The ERI wasn’t the same as heat-sensing equipment, which assigned colors for the various temperatures. People actually emitted color depending on the frequency of the particular emotional energy, but it was too weak for the human eye to see. By reading the color and intensity of the aura, the feelings of a person were revealed, making the ERI a far more reliable lie detector than traditional methods. There was also a thirty-percent success rate in pinpointing locations where the energy was disrupted by physical flaws, such as malignant tumors starting to grow long before they were visible on X-rays.
“It’s being tested by the FAA now for use as airport metal detectors,” Dread explained to me, while the announcer continued speaking in the background. “Nobody can sneak anything past the ERI. The energy is distorted in very predictable ways by metal and plastic, making objects stand out. But this technology is fairly cheap to reproduce. Soon every government building and corporate headquarters will have banks of these. They’ll not only be able to spot weapons, but also people who are angry and aggressive.”
“That’s amazing. Did you develop this?”
“No, it was some guys out of MIT. But once we caught wind of their research, we were able to duplicate the technology fairly easily in our biomedical lab. Now watch this next part.”
Shots of various people in the ERI showed similarities in human energy patterns, concentrated around their torso. The machine produced images of auras that were much stronger than I could see with the naked eye, with fine, swirling gradations between the colors.
When a monkey was placed under the arch, its aura was slightly different. Instead of the rainbow-through-a-cloud blanket of human aura, his aura was thinner, hugging his skin. Dogs and cats also had a weaker aura.
Then the announcer’s voice grew serious as she said, “And now I give you the Prophet of the Fellowship of Truth, Thomas Anderson.”