The Preacher: A Supernatural Thriller (Solom Book 3)

by Scott Nicholson

  “Oh, Christ,” Katy said, hurrying past him to the kitchen. “Oops. Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. I mean…come on.”

  Mark stood only a couple of feet away as she battled the pots and pans on the stove, definitely into her personal space. “It’s spaghetti,’ she said, grabbing two hand towels and hoisting a pot of pasta. “My specialty.”

  “I didn’t know you could cook,” Mark said.

  “I guess we’ve both changed,” Katy said, wondering if he’d catch the irony. But he only stood there smiling blandly, blocking her way to the metal strainer in the sink. She swerved around him, spilling a little water and nearly burning her hand, steam stinging her eyes and wilting her hair.

  God, I even put on make-up. This is so embarrassing.

  “Can I help?” he asked.

  “Sure, thanks. Can you stir that sauce with that wooden spatula there?”

  “Heh,” Mark said. “This reminds me of our first apartment in Charlotte. That time we tried to make alfredo sauce. We ended up chucking it out the window and polishing off a couple of bottles of wine on empty stomachs.”

  Yes, I remember. That might have been the night Jett was conceived.

  She kept her back to him as the pasta drained, then went to the counter and pulled out a wooden cutting board. “Pardon me. I’ve got to chop some onions. Just keep stirring.”

  She cut twice as many onions as the recipe called for, and she was wiping her eyes as Jett entered the kitchen.

  “Weird to see you, Dad,” Jett said, giving him a hug from behind.

  He kissed her on the top of the head. “You’re looking good, Sunshine Supergirl.”

  “Country living, Dad. You should give it a try. Oh, yeah, you did.”

  They were so easy with each other that Katy felt an unexpected flare of jealousy. How had they built such a rapport over a few dozen Sundays?

  Katy grappled to come up with something to reaffirm her position in Jett’s life. “Did you tell him about your biology test?”

  “A ninety-eight,” Mark said. “Isn’t she awesome?”

  “Well, Kelvin helped. He’s a real brain.”

  “Why don’t you invite him to church if you like him so much?” Mark said. “That is, if faith doesn’t scare him as much as it scares some people.”

  Katy shook the drainer. The pasta looked a little soggy. God, couldn’t she get anything right?

  “Nobody wants their first date to be at Rush Branch,’ Jett said. “Besides, it’s going to be a little weird tomorrow anyway.”

  “Because your mom’s going to be there?” Mark said, giving the spatula to Jett. He looked at Katy, who hoped her eyes weren’t too red. From the onions.

  “No, because of that goat sacrifice stuff.”

  “Oh?” For the first time, Mark seemed a little off his game. “What does that mean?”

  Jett gave him a quick summary of the incident, with Katy cutting in to supply details or suppress details as needed. After they concluded with Odus’s arrest, Katy said, “Didn’t your preacher mention it?”

  Mark shook his head. “I swear, sometimes it seems like Solom’s got more secrets than a black cat at midnight. Good thing there’s one answer to every mystery, and that answer is God.” He patted Jett on the shoulder. “Right, pumpkin?”

  Jett shot Katy a look that she translated to mean Jett wasn’t totally sold on this religious experience. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. Katy didn’t want to make this a competition.

  Jett first.

  By the time David Tester arrived, the table was set, the spaghetti cold, the sauce congealed, and Katy was nearly as limp as the salad.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “I owe you one,” Odus Hampton said to the Rev. Edmisten.

  “You owe me twenty-five hundred plus ten percent interest,” the reverend said. “Although I should be thankful you kept my sacrifice private. If you mentioned my name in connection with these crimes, even though I am innocent, it would be an inconvenience during this very important time.”

  Odus figured calling up the reverend instead of a lawyer was good business all the way around. The reverend had a vested interest in buying his silence, plus he was the only one Odus knew who would have that much cash on hand. Although Odus had been charged with two separate felonies, plus a misdemeanor trespassing charge thrown in to pad the list, the jail had a standard bail schedule that allowed inmates to get out easily instead of waiting for a hearing in Superior Court. In the eyes of the law, Odus was still innocent until proven guilty.

  And even though he was innocent in the eyes of God, too, the fact remained that he would likely be found guilty when his case came to trial. With crimes that offensive to the community, and with Odus being caught more-or-less red-handed, he might even be better off taking a plea bargain. Either way, he’d have a hard time finding work in these parts again. He didn’t give a damn about being outcast, since he’d pretty much shunned society ever since childhood, but a fellow still had to eat.

  They walked out of the Pickett County Jail into the early Saturday evening of Titusville. Not much traffic cruised the streets, and many of the parking spaces were empty. Ever since the Walmart and the shopping center with the Cineplex had opened over by the four-lane, the old part of town had withered. Even the government offices and their employees couldn’t keep the surrounding businesses afloat. And that was just fine with Odus, as that meant fewer prying eyes loosening up gossipy tongues.

  “What are people going to say about you bailing me out?” Odus asked. “Ain’t you worried about that?”

  “No indeedy. The Bible says those who walk with the Lord will have compassion. It also says judge not lest ye be judged.”

  An elderly couple passed them on the sidewalk, and the man’s iron-gray eyebrows crept up his wrinkled forehead as he glared at Odus. Word of the crimes had obviously gotten around. Odus had seen a newspaper reporter in the jail requesting the mug shot, so his face was going to be plastered around the county. Luckily the Titusville Times was a bi-weekly and the next edition wouldn’t come out until Tuesday. But the local AM radio station would be all over it.

  The police and jail staff had treated Odus coldly and with a little more roughness than the situation called for. Even a fellow inmate had given him a hard time. The only thing tempering the outrage was the fact that the two churches were small, remote, and of niche denominations. And Solom had a reputation for peculiarities.

  When they reached the reverend’s Lexus, Odus realized he was twenty miles from his truck and had less than two dollars in his pocket. No way would the fussy minister let him ride in the fancy car. Unless Odus made a bargain.

  “You headed back home?” he asked.

  The reverend, who was fishing his keys out of his jacket pocket, said, “I have a mission, as you know.”

  “Well, maybe you could use some help.”

  “It’s in His hands,” the Rev. Edmisten said, and Odus wasn’t sure whether the man meant God or Harmon Smith.

  “You’re likely running low on goats, as many as you’ve been chopping up,” Odus said. “I can get you all you need if you give me a ride back to my truck.”

  The reverend was so short he could barely see over the roof to the car, but he peered across the well-waxed surface. “Are you bribing me, Odus Hampton? After the favor I just did?”

  “The Lord helps those that help themselves.”

  “That’s not in the Bible,” the reverend said. “It’s actually the opposite of what the Word teaches. God helps the helpless.”

  Odus looked up at the low cumulus clouds rimmed red with the sun. “Doesn’t look like God’s got any wheels at the moment, so I guess it’s on you.”

  The reverend slid behind the wheel and slammed the door. As he started the car, Odus leaned down and tapped on the passenger-side window.

  The reverend pursed his plump lips in annoyance, and then worked the button that lowered the automatic window. “Yes?”

  Odus stuck his head insi
de the vehicle, admiring the strong aroma of the leather upholstery. “The cops asked me about a third graveyard desecration. But they didn’t charge me with that one. Turns out I was sitting in a jail cell when it happened.”

  “Why didn’t you tell them Harmon Smith did it?”

  “Well, this one didn’t have any goat parts laying around. Let’s say you or I, just for the sake of discussion, slaughtered an animal as a sacrifice to the Horseback Preacher. Why might there not be any scraps left over?”

  The reverend frowned in thought. “Because Harmon Smith took them?”

  “I’d bet if the cops went through the trunk of this car, they’d turn up some goat hairs and blood. Of course, we both know they wouldn’t do that for a minor crime like that. But as you said, you sure would hate to miss Harmon Smith’s return.”

  The exasperated reverend sighed in defeat and clicked a button to unlock the door. Odus got in.

  “Comfy,” Odus said. “The Lord has blessed you with material things.”

  “Yes indeedy. But they won’t matter a bit once I take over as the Horseback Preacher.”

  “Well, how many more goats do you think it will take?”

  “Maybe all of them. I’ve only been performing sacrifices for two days.”

  Odus folded his arms and stared straight ahead, waiting for the car to back out and ease into traffic.

  “Odus?”

  “Hmm.”

  “Seat belt.”

  “Oh, right.” Odus fastened the belt with a click. “There’s probably some Bible verse about automotive safety.”

  “No indeedy. Just a state law.”

  They talked little as they drove out to Solom, and Odus found his mind wandering. If the reverend’s animal sacrifices weren’t drawing out the Horseback Preacher, then what would? Mose Eldreth said Harmon Smith had shown up at the Free Will church. And, judging by those hoof prints, Miss Katy’s farm as well.

  So far the reverend hadn’t put two and two together. But what if they sacrificed a goat right there on Harmon Smith’s home turf?

  Such an act would put Katy and Jett at risk. But if it got this mess over with, then it would be worth it.

  As they hit the gravel road at the bottom of Lost Ridge where Odus had left his truck, Odus said, “So what’s your plan for the night? You’ve already hit up Harmon’s three graves and the place where he was killed. Seems to me like maybe he’s not all that interested in you.”

  That seemed to irk the reverend, who drove slowly over the uneven, twisting road. “You’re ignorant of the signs, Brother Odus. The third day will soon be upon us. But just as Harmon Smith took up larger and larger animals in sacrifice, so might I be called thusly.”

  “There’s a couple of pigs out at Ray Tester’s place. I’m sure I can lay my hands on them if you want. Consider it a down payment on my debt.”

  The reverend shook his head, causing the folds of his neck to waddle. “As mmm-mmm-almighty good as bacon tastes, the Good Book says the pig is unclean. So surely Harmon deserves better.”

  “It’ll be a little bit more trouble, but I can get you a cow.”

  “I’ve got some other ideas, but for tonight, can you bring me three goats?”

  Odus was a little relieved, because stealing large animals was a felony, and if he was nabbed for another one before his trial, the judge would likely revoke bond and he’d be sitting in the slammer. He wouldn’t be able to protect Katy and Jett from there. He didn’t give a damn one way or another whether the Rev. William Edmisten replaced Harmon Smith on the long circuit, but the upside would be the Smith farm might be clear of bad magic and haunts once and for all.

  Does God hold it against you if you’re aiding and abetting the Devil for a good cause?

  Well, that was one worry Odus would just have to put off until Judgment Day. He didn’t figure God would be granting him any bail when that time came.

  “Three goats it is,” Odus said. “Where do you want to meet?”

  “The tabernacle. I’m going to open up his grave. And if he shows up, he might see that he’s earned his rest and will be happy to hand over the job.”

  “You might need a backhoe, because you’re going to need a bigger hole than that,” Odus said as they rounded a curve and his truck came into view. He hoped no one had stolen his fishing pole. The deputy had confiscated his rifle as evidence, so he wouldn’t get that back until after the trial.

  “Why’s that?” the reverend said.

  “You think Harmon Smith’s going anywhere without Old Saint?”

  The reverend eased to a stop behind the pickup, brow furrowed as if he hadn’t contemplated that. For all his book-learning and all his genius at horse trading, it seemed like the preacher was a little short on horse sense.

  After a moment, he nodded. “I’ll need one more thing, then. Bring me a horse.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Dinner hadn’t been the total disaster Jett had expected.

  Sure, Mom and Dad were both a little awkward, but considering it was the first time they’d sat at the same table in probably six years, they managed not to say anything stupid or break into an argument. Elder Tester ended up doing most of the talking, and Mom didn’t give him the third degree with her questions. Even the food wasn’t too bad, although the sauce was a little oniony and the pasta gummy.

  After Dad and the preacher left and they were cleaning up the kitchen, Jett asked if she could go hang out with Kelvin and Hayley. The request drew such a fierce glare that Jett thought her mom was going to break down in tears.

  “Are you kidding?” Katy said. “After last night? You were an hour late.”

  “Jeez, why don’t you just put razor wire around the farm and turn it into a prison?” Jett was surprised by her mother’s anger, and it made her forcefully defensive. “Just because you want to be a slave doesn’t mean I want to sit here until I grow roots.”

  “I’m free to do whatever I want.”

  “Oh, yeah. Then let’s go out.”

  Katy scraped the sauce pan and set it in the sink, turning Jett’s dishwater a greasy red and making it stink of onions. “Nice try. But you’re grounded.”

  “Okay, then, I’ll stay here and you go out.”

  “Well, I’m not sure I can trust you, especially after that prank texting. You broke your promise to stay in touch.”

  “I told you, my phone was off—I mean, I couldn’t get a signal.” She kept her head down as she scrubbed at the pan, hoping Mom didn’t catch her slip. But Mom was staring out the kitchen window at the barn.

  “Your dad,” she said. “I know the church has been a positive influence on his life, but doesn’t he seem a little zombified?”

  “Oh. I get it. That’s what this is about. You’re punishing me for joining his church. Like maybe you’re threatened because we’ll share something you’re not a part of.”

  “Elder David thoroughly explained the Primitive beliefs, but you still haven’t told me what you get out of it. It seems old-fashioned, conservative, and sexist, from what I can tell. Which is why I can’t understand its appeal to you. That’s almost the exact opposite of the principles I’ve tried to instill.”

  Jett hurled her scrubbie into the dishwater. “Because it gives me peace and comfort. Something simple. It’s a world where there are no man-eating goats or creepy preachers or psychos with knives dressing up in costume. Believing in an imaginary old man up in the sky is a lot more reassuring than waking up in the middle of the night wondering if the Horseback Preacher is standing at the foot of my bed.”

  They didn’t speak as they finished their kitchen chores, and Jett was determined to give Mom the silent treatment for the rest of the night. But then it was time to put up the animals for the night. Even though the sun hadn’t quite dipped over the mountains in the west, long shadows stretched across the valley and the wind caused some of them to move. Even though Jett was mad at Mom, she couldn’t let her go out there alone.

  Only three goats remained.r />
  Mom was convinced they’d gotten out somehow, and she circled the barnyard seeing if there was a breach in the fence. As Jett was putting the animals in their pen, hurrying because the barn interior was much darker than the sky, something thumped and clattered down the loft stairs. Jett shrieked and swung her flashlight toward the commotion, catching a glimpse of flailing fabric and whirling dust. Metal tools rattled against wood, and the flashlight cast crazy flickering shadows along the walls.

  Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

  Jett actually catapulted over the pen railing without even being aware that she’d moved, and she knelt among the three goats as if to hide. The animals bleated in surprise and pushed against her. Her knee was in something soft, stinky, and squishy, but she didn’t care. She debated thumbing the light off so that whatever it was—oh, you KNOW what it is, Jett—wouldn’t know where she was.

  But she couldn’t bear the thought of the nearly dark barn with that thing moving around, probably shopping for a sharp cutting tool on the barn wall. She compromised by jamming it into the straw-covered dirt, so that just a little orange leaked out around the face, like a battery-operated campfire lost in a foreboding Stone Age world.

  Katy ran into the barn, stopping a few feet inside so that she was just a black silhouette against the dwindling pinkish gray of sunset. “Honey! What is it?”

  “Scuh…uh.” Jett swallowed and it tasted of floating manure flakes and fear. She gathered air to try again. “Scarecrow Man! On the stairs!”

  Katy didn’t have a flashlight, so Jett summoned her courage and swung the beam up to pin the nightmare in the spotlight. But there was no figure standing on the little landing where the tools hung. Just a wadded pile of old clothes with a battered straw hat resting on top of them.

  Katy rushed into the barn and opened the pen, giving Jett a hug. The goats pushed past them and escaped into the barnyard, where they milled and bawled.

  “It’s just old clothes,” Katy said.

  “But it’s the scarecrow’s clothes,” Jett said, trying not to blubber like a little baby. She looked past her mom’s shoulder to the stairs.