“Brother Jeffrey, ring the bell.”
Reed walked toward the pair of gnarled black wood posts holding up the ancient iron bell the very first settlers had made for the Creeks not knowing its holy purpose. He was halfway to the bell before he stopped abruptly.
“Sir, we don’t have a sacrifice.”
“He is waiting, Brother Jeffrey. Do you wish to disappoint Him?”
Reed quickly shook his head. Phillip turned toward the assembled worshipers. This was the first time he could remember where they’d failed to capture a sacrifice for Him. It would be better if they could run out and kidnap some random vagrant. But that would take time they didn’t have, even if they could find one. There hadn’t been a lot of homeless downtown lately. The irony almost made him smile. Offering Tolliver to Him wasn’t just to get rid of one vagrant, but to put the fear of Him into the rest. They’d succeeded, all too well.
It looked like they’d have to offer up one of their own. Phillip caught Reed in the corner of his eye. The man had fucked up the night’s raid and then had the gall to question his authority. That couldn’t be tolerated. But even if he was a dumb hothead, he was an excellent enforcer, never showing any reluctance to do what was necessary for the congregation and for Edington. Nope. He was too useful.
Then Phillip’s gaze fell on Sam. The Army puke was weak. He’d also questioned his authority, in his own restaurant no less. And now, even deep within the tree farm outside of the jurisdiction of a police department infested by carpetbaggers, he looked frightened. If he went around scared of his own shadow, folk would start asking questions. The congregation didn’t need that. Not now. Sam knew too much, and he might talk.
No. He was a veteran, a man who put his life on the line for his kin and nation. Phillip had given the order to put Tolliver out of his misery, but Tolliver was a pathetic wreck. Sam was salvageable. And he was married to his cousin’s stepdaughter, who’d suffered enough lately. And he’d also gotten all four raiders back rather than leave them for the Edington cops, who’d make them talk sooner or later. Phillip shook his head. Not tonight.
Phillip’s gaze fell on Thomas. The big man would do nicely. He’d dared challenge the will of the god of the woods before the congregation and then gone on a failed mission. His judgment would be clear to all. Discipline would be restored, for the moment at least.
“Brother John.” His mild tone disguised lethal intent. “Come forward.” The congregation fell instantly silent. Phillip almost smiled. They knew what was going to happen, and it didn’t seem like anyone objected. The big man didn’t move. “Brother John, I’m waiting.”
Thomas hesitantly stepped to the front of the crowd, but he didn’t leave it. “Brother Phillip, wh…what are you trying to pull?” Fear writhed in his voice. The hands that had once looked likely to smash Phillip’s face trembled.
Phillip ignored the sacrifice-to-be for the moment. “Brother Jeffrey, ring the bell.”
Reed looked from Thomas to Phillip, then back to Thomas. Apprehension tickled at Phillip’s gut. There’d never been a mutiny in the congregation before, but there was a first time for everything. If Reed joined Thomas in insurrection, it might be him going alive into His mouth.
“Brother Jeffrey!” Thomas called out. “You were there! You know we only fled because there were Edington cops there, and more coming!”
Reed reddened. Phillip almost smiled. Bad move, bringing up their defeat like that. Reed turned away from Thomas and seized the rope in his hands. The bell rolled like a crack of thunder, once, twice, three times.
Thomas screamed and tried to flee the circle of light. His bulk made him slow. He barely made it three steps before the others swarmed him and forced him to the wet ground.
“Judgment begins at the house of God!” Phillip called out, again pillaging the Bible. “Let it not be said that we have tried to spare our own!”
“Stop it!” Thomas screamed as they bore him to the bloodstained picnic table, the last stop on the human-sacrifice express for decades. “I’m one of you! I’ve never sinned against Him!”
Phillip wondered if he should have Thomas gagged. His words might sow seeds of future trouble, seeds that could sprout this very night. Many congregants had firearms and knew how to use them. Hell, Thomas was armed even if he seemed to have forgotten that. Phillip’s own gun hung heavily on his hip, but he couldn’t just shoot likely troublemakers. He’d only know who he couldn’t trust if they’d tried to frag him and failed.
On the other hand, having them shove Thomas’s socks in his wide mouth would show the congregation he feared what the man had to say. And showing that would be like showing his pulsing throat to a hungry feral dog. Phillip shook his head. Like hell.
“All have sinned,” Phillip intoned. “Have you ever watched carpetbagger filth on television or the Internet? Or perhaps dropped hints of just what you’ve been doing here at night to someone who hasn’t been initiated?” Or maybe gone to Shane’s when you could have come to me or at least some other local restaurant?
“No!” Thomas screamed. “No, I swear!” The worshipers tore his clothes away, revealing civvie fat even the Crucible would have problems burning off. Phillip was glad gods didn’t have to worry about heart disease.
“Let Him be the judge of that. Your failure tonight was His indictment. Whether He takes you tonight will be the verdict and the sentence.”
“The verdict and the sentence!” someone shouted.
With strength no doubt driven by fear, Thomas surged up naked from the table like a pallid missile. One man tried to grab hold of his shoulder, but a blow from a big fist toppled him. Thomas raced across the grassy clearing toward Phillip, eyes wild with fear and rage. Phillip’s hand slid inside his robes to his holstered pistol. He’d shoot the big man if he had to, but it would take a sacrifice to truly restore discipline.
He spared a glance behind him. The dark water lapped at the shores of the pond, each little wave wetting the ground farther than the last. Azure lights glowed in the deep. He was coming. Perhaps he should step aside and let Him handle Thomas?
Thomas didn’t run fast enough for that to be an option. He’d only gotten a few feet before the congregation forced him to the ground. They bore him back to the table. Thomas thrashed and kicked and swore. A sharp blow to the head stilled his struggling.
“Tie him tightly!” Phillip ordered. “He must not be denied!”
The tolling of the great bell had summoned it to feed, as it had in the long years since the Americans had first brought the working of iron to this land. It breached the surface of the dark pond, water draining away from its enormous head. Its long tail forced its vast body through the shallow waters at the edge of the pond into the circle of lights that had once been fiery torches and were now yellow hissing lanterns.
“He comes!” the men shouted at its approach. They spilled out of its way, leaving it a clear path across grass made lush by centuries of blood to its feast. This one was big and pasty, larger than the last one. The dark-skinned offering had been chewy, even when its claws had done their work, and far too small. That wouldn’t be a problem this time.
“Please!” the man screamed directly at it. The beast cocked its head, the shadows before it shifting as its glowing eyes moved. Over the long years the offerings had cursed it or the men who’d brought it food or just simply screamed and screamed, but rarely had it been implored. It stopped its approach abruptly, watching the bound man.
“Don’t kill me! I know we failed to bring You the best prey, those Indians who worship animals and debauch white women, but I’ll bring them to you! I swear! Don’t eat me and you’ll have five of them! Nice, brown morsels fit for you! Fit for a god!”
“Indians.” That’s what the Americans called the ones who’d brought it food before. But those were gone. No “Istichata” and “Muskogee” had been food or brought it food in a long time. And those had bronze skin, not brown. It wasn’t quite sure what the offering was trying to say. Bronze, white, black, br
own all tasted the same.
Its enormous maw hinged open, rows of teeth folding forward and locking in place. The man screamed, each cry a distinct breath. It wasn’t talking anymore.
The creature’s clawed tendrils shot forward. It was time to feed.
Thomas was torn away from the sacrificial table just like Tolliver had been, leaving a hand and foot behind. With a final “PLEASE!” the big man vanished into His cavernous mouth. The rows of sharp teeth meshed together. Bright red blood stained the white enamel. Phillip grinned. Discipline had been restored.
He turned to face his congregation. “He has judged Brother John and found him wanting. But don’t think that this makes any of us any better. We have all failed Him!”
“We have all failed Him!” the crowd echoed mournfully.
“But we can do penance!” Phillip called, cribbing from Catholicism this time. The god’s feeding tentacles whipped through the air behind him, tearing away what parts of Thomas were left on the table. Phillip couldn’t see its glorious feeding, but it no doubt made his speech all the better. “We failed to bring him the meat He requires, but we will!”
Phillip turned to face Him, hands raised high. It had slid back into the shallows, its glowing eyes attracting the buzzing denizens of the wet wood like a constellation of bug zappers. It reminded Phillip of the crocodiles he’d seen in Vietnam, sated on the riverside after they’d fed. But crocodiles didn’t live forever, didn’t survive rifles or even cannon, and wouldn’t survive the guns of the police department and the lazy fucks at the National Guard armory if the Edington folk should ever give Him reason to be angry.
“We will not fail you!”
Several of the creature’s featureless eyes lazily pivoted his way, their light dying his skin blue-green. Phillip suddenly felt the urgent need to piss. It might amuse onlookers if the sacrifice he’d offered in order to maintain his authority wasn’t enough and it ate him next, but he wouldn’t find it funny. Its gaze held him transfixed like a pinned butterfly. Maybe that was what it was like to be a rabbit caught beneath the eyes of the thousand things that hunted them.
Rather than attack, the creature began receding into the darkness, sinking back into the depths that had vomited it up into the world. Relief flooded through him. The god had not punished him for his sins that day. In fact, by not doing so, He had blessed his leadership of the congregation. Blessed his planned course of action. He watched as the black waters devoured it, only wet black flesh lit by the glowing eyes remaining visible. Those were the last to vanish, disappearing into the depths like the dive lights of a descending frogman.
The waters had not yet returned to normal before Reed approached.
“Sir.” There was new respect in his voice. That almost brought a smile to Phillip’s face. “Sir, what now?”
“Our brothers in the Sheriff’s Office will keep us informed of any interest from law enforcement.” Thanks to Reed’s stupidity, the congregation was now on the radar of the Edington Police Department. Phillip mentally kicked himself for his carelessness. If he’d fucked up like this in Vietnam, his commanding officer would’ve ripped him a new one, and he’d have deserved it.
The best-case scenario would be if the police thought his men were robbers bent on stealing the gold he’d heard Indians kept in their homes. That happened often enough where there were more of them. However, he couldn’t rely on the police thinking that. The carpetbaggers had to be gotten rid of sooner rather than later, before word of the incident spread. All four, starting with that carpetbagger kid who’d seen Him and escaped. Brother Charles said that one wouldn’t do the smart thing and agree that Bill Aiken had tried to kill him. If he talked, folk might come poking around the tree farm. Then more Edington blood would be shed.
The Mexicans could wait. Brother Zebulon should be able to do more than just complain about those incipient child molesters in his position, and they weren’t a standing threat to the congregation’s OpSec.
No, the carpetbaggers would be the next to go alive into His maw. Although the attempt to capture the Indians had failed, the one who’d defied Him already bore His mark upon his face. They’d get him next.
Chapter Eight
That Monday was James’ next scheduled day at Best Buy. Mom didn’t like the idea of him working with his face still bandaged, but Dad pointed out the mortgage didn’t care. So after his calculus final, back to work he went. Given how the alternative was spending all the time he wasn’t at school in his room without his phone, he didn’t mind one single solitary bit.
The day had been a real treat so far. The small-town gossip network had been going full blast. Though Aaron had put him on the shop floor rather than sticking him in the back like he’d hoped, most everybody avoided him. When he sought out customers who looked like they needed help, they somehow never needed it by the time he got there. Aaron ultimately had him scan in returns. That’d keep his bandaged face from frightening the customers.
James could get used to this kind of work. He was still getting paid and wouldn’t have to deal with anybody asking about his face or accusing him of homicide with their eyes or gestures, or whispers when they thought he couldn’t hear. Or, in the case of one person who must be less prejudiced than the rest of the yokels, flat-out accusing Bill of attempted murder. Goddamn it! Bill had actually tried to save him!
He’d just scanned in a couple of shitty chick flicks he bet were unwanted birthday presents when three girls, locals by their accents, breezed in through the out door. The leader of the group was tall and slender with dirty blonde hair.
Amber.
Great. Hopefully she won’t be joining the rest of these morons in thinking I murdered Bill, or that Bill tried to murder me.
He stopped suddenly. Why should he care? He looked away from the girls and set the scanned movies on the reshelving cart. Just six more DVDs and one CD—James was shocked anybody was buying CDs these days—and he could get all the returns back on the racks. Then he’d see if Aaron needed help with something. He wouldn’t have to deal with Amber and her friends.
“James,” Aaron said from behind him. James nearly jumped. He’d been so engrossed in the girls and returns that he hadn’t seen his supervisor creeping up on him. Aaron pointed to the three girls. “Go see if they need help.”
Great. He needed to keep the job, so he smiled in a way that wasn’t too fake and headed over to the trio.
The deep blue eyes of Jessica Johns, a tall brunette with freckles, fell on him before he could even speak. “James,” she said with barely-contained disdain. James barely kept from scowling. He didn’t know her well, but she’d been much more pleasant before. Her third friend, another brunette who was more than a little bit plump, wasn’t as obvious but he could still feel the weight of her eyes.
“So Amber,” James said, pretending not to notice the other two girls. “What can I help you with today?”
“I’m looking for a TV for my dorm,” Amber said. It just had to be her. Of course, she was actually being pleasant. “Could you show me where the TVs are?”
James looked over his shoulder at the rectangular signs hanging like sharp teeth from the vaulted ceiling. They showed where everything in the store was. Amber had to know how to find the TVs.
“Sure,” he said in his best customer service voice. He pointed toward the lines of televisions near the narrow red-lit room reserved for the audio-visual equipment. He led the three over. Amber stuck close to him, while her friends trailed behind. Jessica still watched him warily. James checked the urge to snort. Even if he had killed Bill, he wasn’t the sort of dickwad who’d hurt a woman.
He showed Amber three different TVs. All were flat-screens, much lighter than the bulky monstrosity he helped his cousin move into her dorm in Tuscaloosa a while back. Amber made all the appropriate comments, but her gaze kept drifting toward the A/V room.
“Are you interested in some speakers to go with that TV?” If that was what she was after, she would get what she w
anted and get out of his hair.
“Sure.” Her long legs carried her over into the A/V room, leaving James and her friends behind. Not wanting to be left with two hicks who no doubt thought him some kind of city-slicker serial killer, James hurried to catch up.
He wasn’t even to the door when Amber looked sternly over his shoulder at her two friends. James’ gaze followed hers. The two fell even farther back, although Jessica still looked at him like he was a snake.
“C’mon,” she said, urgency breaking into her voice. She looked around the A/V room. James wasn’t sure what was going on, but he quickened his pace and soon found himself alone with her.
“All right.” Amber fixed her softer blue eyes on him. “Tell me you didn’t kill Bill.”
“What?” Amber hadn’t shared her friends’ attitude, so he’d thought she didn’t share their suspicions. He’d assumed she just wanted an excuse for some alone time. Never assume, he reminded himself. It makes an ass out of you and me. “Of course I didn’t! If I did, do you think I’d be here?”
“Good.” She looked out the doorway at her friends. “That’s not what some folk have been saying. Jessica said—”
James rolled his eyes. What did Jessica know? She wasn’t there. She hadn’t seen that God-knows-what boiling out of the pond, with too many limbs and eyes and teeth. She hadn’t seen Bill fucking crucified with claws through his chest.
Amber touched his arm, jolting him back to reality. “James?” she asked. “You just went away there for a second.”
James shook his head. “Just remembering.”
Amber looked at him, eyes wide in the oval of her face. “Remembering what? Jessica said Deputy Richards said—”
James froze. The deputy who’d interrogated him was named Bowie, but there were three others at the hospital. “The deputies’ve been talking?”
“Everybody talks around here, especially folk who shouldn’t. Figured you’d have realized that by now.”
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