As they parted, Tristan’s voice rang out with a clarity Reece hadn’t heard before. “I know you’re going after the Wolf, which is a good thing. But remember, it’s highly likely the Wolf is coming after you in return.”
THIRTY-FIVE
ON FRIDAY AFTERNOON AT TWELVE FORTY-FIVE, BRANDON walked into the den of the Wolf. He pushed open the doors of Carson Tanner’s offices and studio hoping his spiritual eyes and ears were wide open. His row with Kevin certainly wasn’t the best warm-up, but he wasn’t going to let that distract him. He’d worked through the emotions of his meeting with Windfire and his talk with Kevin. At least he told himself he had. He needed to be ready for this interview.
Could he live without doing albums anymore and huge concerts? Yes. He didn’t need the money. And he could go back to indie recording and still do concerts. Not being able to sing would end him, but all he needed was his voice and his guitar. And those things would always be there.
“Excuse me.” A woman who looked to be in her mid- to late thirties walked toward him. “I believe you’re Brandon Scott.” She extended her hand. “I’m Sooz Latora, the executive producer of Carson’s show. Great to meet you. Thanks so much for coming.”
“Good to meet you, and it’s my pleasure.”
“Right this way.”
Sooz motioned him to follow her and they walked down a long hallway. Reece and Doug had said to play it cool, and that’s exactly what Brandon planned on doing. No controversy, no uncomfortable conversations. Just the chance to get a feel for the spirit of the place, get to know Carson Tanner, start getting an idea of the kind of game he played, and see if Brandon could find out who the players behind the players were. See where the spirit of religion lurked.
A door at the end of the hallway flew open and Carson popped out of it. He smiled and half walked, half jogged down the hallway till he reached Brandon.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.” The host’s booming voice filled the hallway and made Brandon think of a movie trailer he’d seen last week. Dana was right. The guy was fit and good looking.
“You didn’t keep me waiting at all.” Brandon offered his hand.
“Shoot, it would have made me look important.” Carson shook his head, then Brandon’s hand and laughed at his own joke. “Stupid, sorry. I’m just a little nervous. Big fan of yours and all that. I know I have almost fifteen million listeners these days and the books and the speaking tours, and I’m supposed to be some sort of big deal, but it doesn’t feel like that. It still feels like I’m in my basement trying to create a radio show a few people might listen to someday.”
“Congratulations on all the success you’ve had. I wish I could say I’ve listened to your show but—”
“No worries, there’s only so much time, right?”
Carson led him to the studio where another of the host’s producers set him up with headphones and positioned him to the left of one of two microphones directly across from Carson’s board. The host settled into his chair and bounced up and down a few times before grinning at Brandon. “We’re on the air in about forty-five seconds, so since we have all this time on our hands, do you mind signing this?”
Carson handed Brandon a black Sharpie and his latest CD. Brandon scrawled his signature across the case and handed it back. This guy was a fan. Which meant the interview should be cake, leaving him enough bandwidth to focus on the spiritual atmosphere of the place. Maybe the guy was the Wolf but so far he had poodle written all over him. If the wrong kind of spirits were camping out in the place, they were lying so low they were asleep.
After the show’s prerecorded intro, Carson pointed at him and grinned. “Very special show today, folks! You’ve been waiting for it, so have we. He’s here, five feet from me ready to talk about the truth—it’s the man, the legend, the machine—multiplatinum recording artist Brandon Scott.” Carson leaned back and clapped. “We’re going to be talking about his music, his ministry, and of course anything you want to talk about.
“No question is off limits, so get on the phone and we’ll get to you soon. But first I get to toss out some of my own questions to this ultrapopular, ultratalented musician. Great to have you here, Brandon.” Carson winked and pointed at Brandon’s mic.
“Great to be here.”
“All right, we never waste time on my show so let’s dive in. Talk to us about your most recent CD. The one that came out, what, six months back?”
“That’s right.”
“My friends say it’s your strongest album to date. That the songs are fresh again, full of life. It feels like the Brandon Scott from the old days. I agree. Do you? And if your answer is yes, what’s changed?”
“Yeah, I agree. I never thought I’d like an album more than my first one, but this has become my favorite.”
“What happened with this one?”
“I’ve been singing about freedom for years, but for a while there that idea was more in my head than in my heart. Now it’s more in my heart than my head. I’ve been changed. I feel like I’ve had a rebirth and I want others to have happen to them what’s happened to me.”
Carson adjusted his headphones and narrowed his eyes. “And this change came from . . . ?”
Brandon hesitated. How much should he say? How little? What Reece, Dana, Marcus, and he were doing wasn’t a hard-and-fast secret, but it wasn’t something to shout from the rooftops either. And if this guy was the Wolf . . .
The Spirit had told them to stay under the radar as much as possible. And talking about going into other people’s souls was completely off limits. Trying to explain that part of Warriors Riding would be like playing Russian roulette with a chamber full of bullets.
“I’ve been getting together with a group of friends for the past year. Deep healing has come out of it, and that’s spilled over into my music.”
“What about hearing from God?” Carson’s eyes narrowed further.
“What do you mean?”
“Hearing his voice. Him telling you what to do, where to go, who to talk to, whether there are demons here or there or everywhere?” Carson’s gaze had turned cold.
“Yes, I believe the Spirit speaks to us. That talking to God should be like any other conversation. A back-and-forth dialogue. In the gospel of John, Jesus says his sheep will hear—”
“That’s a controversial idea among some Christians.”
“Among some, sure.”
“Have you had any kind of backlash?”
“Backlash? About trying to listen to God?” Brandon frowned. Where was Carson going with this?
“No, over the extrabiblical ideas you’ve gotten into lately. Your going way beyond the idea that God speaks.”
“What are you talking about?” Brandon’s body chilled.
“Ah, folks, this is going to be fun. Here’s the scoop with a bright red cherry on top: Brandon Scott has been getting into some pretty wild and wacky ideas lately, but I didn’t want to get into it without Brandon here to defend himself.” Carson laughed as the sound effect of a drumroll blasted through Brandon’s headphones. “Okay, heeeerrre we go.”
Carson leaned in close to the mic and lowered his voice. “What I’ve heard, from reliable sources, is you and these new pals you mentioned a minute or two ago have immersed yourselves deeply in occult practices such as astral projection, soul travel, turning invisible, hearing from the dead, and . . . wow!” Carson threw his hands up. “God knows what else.”
Brandon’s body went from ice to volcano. He stabbed a finger at Carson and spoke into his microphone to protest, but nothing came through his headphones. Carson had muted his mic. Brandon yanked the headphones off his head, tossed them onto the counter in front of him, and stepped toward Carson.
“Folks, I think we’ve hit a maaaaajor nerve here. You can’t see this, but it looks like Brandon Scott is getting ready to rumm-mmble.” The radio host grinned and raised both his fists in a mock boxing posture. “It’s true! Brandon Scott is out of his chair and looks like he’s
ready to plant his fist into my jaw. Or are you just joshing around, Brandon?”
Brandon sat down hard in his chair and glared at Carson. He had to stay calm. Play the game. Get a chance to speak the truth. “Nah, just stretching my back.” He squeezed out a laugh.
“That’s what I thought.” Carson stared at him with a look that was the exact opposite of his words. “Now, I gotta ask, haven’t you been at all worried your fans will get wind of you wrapping yourself up in a bunch of New Age garbage?
“Aren’t you worried people will discover you now believe you can turn invisible with some sort of real-life Harry Potter invisibility cloak? That you can instantly beam yourself across vast distances in some kind of spiritual Star Trek machine?”
Brandon’s body went numb and he pulled shallow breaths in through his mouth. Stay calm. Ride it out.
“Have you given any thought to the fact that if it gets out that you’re not just dabbling, but embracing the occult head-on that you’ll lose some fans? Or even worse, shatter the faith of those who have looked up to you for so long?” Carson paused and raised his eyebrows. “And worst of all, you’re teaching other believers this is truth, aren’t you? You and your buddies have been doing training seminars out in Colorado for hundreds of people, and those people have been doing retreats with your material all over the United States and even other parts of the world. The heresy is spreading like a rampant virus.”
“Are you going to let me speak this time, Carson, or are you going to hit the mute button again?”
Carson waved his hand. “Oh, by all means, speak on, dear friend.”
“I’d be curious who you’ve been talking to. Because what you’re describing is not what my friends and I are exploring or what we are teaching others.”
“So you are exploring something, hmm?”
Brandon gripped the sides of his chair. “Everything we do is based on Scripture—”
“Based on?” Carson leaned in. “Did you say ‘based on’? Kinda like some movies are ‘based on’ a true story when only 10 percent of the story is true?”
“No.” Brandon glared at Carson. “What we are doing is setting people free, healing them of wounds, helping them—”
“From the research I’ve done, I think you’re full-out immersed in the kind of things people in the Old Testament were stoned for.” Carson widened his eyes and cocked his head. “Right? C’mon now, Brandon. You’re exploring dark parts of the forest that should be left for the animals and the Wiccans, not for Bible-believing Christians. What has happened to you?”
“You’re badly mistaken.” Sweat seeped down Brandon’s back and his heart rate had to be over one hundred. From adrenaline. Anger. The poodle had indeed turned into the Wolf.
“Whatever you’ve heard has been distorted by someone with a vendetta against us. It’s pure slander from those on the outside looking in who don’t know what they’re talking about.”
“I don’t think so. This ain’t hearsay. We’ve talked to a friend of yours who told us not only are you delving into areas of darkness yourselves, but you’re brainwashing others to think the same way. Would you like to hear what they have to say?” Carson didn’t wait for a response and pushed a button on his computer screen. A familiar voice Brandon couldn’t quite place filled his headphones.
“I really truly think they’re trying to do good things with their training out at Well Spring, but they’ve become a little misguided. Okay, they’re a lot misguided. They’ve pulled a seriously large muscle in their spiritual physique. I mean, wow, they’re telling people they can do stuff so far out there it makes the Wiccans and the New Agers look like they’re Quakers.”
“Like?” Carson’s voice asked.
“Astral projection. Teleporting around the world like Star Trek gone mad. Going inside other people’s minds and doing psychotherapy on them while they’re inside, turning invisible in a crowd. Going inside other people’s souls. This is where Reece Roth, Brandon Scott, and the others are telling people they need to take their walk with God. They’re telling people this is real and right and true. And that scares me because their influence is growing like mad.”
Carson tapped his computer again and stared at Brandon. “As you might have figured out, that was Tamera Miller who most of you out there probably know has a nationally known show on fitness. She’s all about keeping the spirit healthy and keeping the body healthy. She has a book coming out this fall. She’s well respected.
“In other words, this isn’t some derelict off the street with a skewed view of Christianity. And you know her, don’t you, Brandon? Of course you do. She went through your training. So how do you explain her comments? Did you teach her and other people the things she’s talking about or didn’t you?”
Brandon clenched his teeth and ignored the voice inside telling him to stay silent. “Yes, we have gathered select groups of people over the past eleven months and have taught them how to go deeper with God. And yes, Tamera went through our training. But she isn’t happy with us because—” Brandon stopped. What could he say that would have any relevance to Carson’s audience? That wouldn’t come out sounding divisive? Plus it wasn’t anyone’s business why Tamera wasn’t part of their inner circle, and it would be pure gossip to talk about her this way.
“Wooo, love it! So you’re saying this is a revenge move on Tamera’s part? Wow, the soup gets thicker fast!” Carson grinned. “Doesn’t sound like Tamera got set free.”
Brandon’s body felt like Jell-O. His phone vibrated with a text message and he struggled to lift his phone. It was from Dana. GET OFF THE AIR. THERE’S NO SALVAGING THIS. CARSON HOLDS ALL THE CARDS AND HE’S NOT PLAYING FAIR AND WON’T START ANYTIME SOON. AND SOMETHING DEMONIC IS FEEDING HIM HIS LINES.
Dana was probably right. It was unlikely Brandon could say anything to stop the tsunami that had just crashed on him. But he would try.
“We’ll get to more of your thoughts in a few minutes, Brandon, but first let’s take a few calls.”
Carson snapped a finger toward the window in front of him behind which sat Sooz. He glanced at his computer and winked at Brandon. “Welcome to the show, Lisa. You have a question for Brandon Scott?”
“More of a statement than a question but—”
“Fire hard.”
“Brandon, I’ve listened to your music since the beginning and have all of your albums, and I don’t understand how you could have slipped away from Jesus into the occult. What happened to you? What went wrong? Do you realize how many people you might take to hell with you?”
The woman’s voice echoed in Brandon’s head as he grasped for words that would stop this nightmare.
“What we’re doing at Well Spring isn’t occultic. It’s being led by the Spirit of—”
“Wait, wait, wait, Brandon.” Carson waved his hands. “I’m sorry, you know I love you, but I can’t let that statement slide by. You’re talking about sending your spirit into other people’s souls? You’re talking about walking through walls? You’re talking about beaming around the universe like Scotty? Are you trying to tell me that’s from the Spirit of God?”
“I get it. I understand why you’re skeptical. I was too until—”
“Until your brain got washed on the full load cycle?”
“If you look in your Bible, you’ll find verses that support what we’re—”
“Sure. Of course. Just like I can show you verses that teach you to kill babies, but I’m not thinking that’s going to be happenin’ in the church anytime soon. Or hey! Wait! Do you guys teach that too?”
“I know why you’re coming after us, Carson, and you won’t win.”
“Just looking for the truth, baby, and keeping the sheep from being devoured by men like you.”
Brandon started to respond but Carson had cut off his mic again. Brandon’s phone vibrated for a second time and he glanced down. Another text message from Dana. DO YOU BELIEVE ME NOW? GET OUT!
He read the message a second time, then blinked
as if coming out of a trance. As he pulled his headphones off his head a second time, he stared at Carson and again struggled not to leap across the five feet between them and strangle the man. Brandon stood and turned toward the studio door as Carson’s deep bass voice seemed to vibrate through the room.
“Sorry, folks. Brandon Scott has tucked his tail firmly between his legs and appears to be heading for the hills. I’ll be back after our sponsors talk about a few offers you’ll probably like, and then I’ll take a few calls on why you think Brandon and his band of merry men have strayed so far from the truth. And whether this is the beginning of the end of Brandon Scott’s singing career. And finally, we’ll talk about what you can do to shut down these Warriors Riding retreats that are popping up all over the country. It’s about the truth, baby!”
Carson turned off his mic and slid off his headphones. “Thanks for coming on the show. That was a rough one, I know.”
“The enemy has his claws deeply embedded in your life.”
“Nah, just love a good show.”
“You set me up. You have to know Tamera is a loose cannon. Why?”
“I’m only trying to get to the truth.”
“What we’re doing at Well Spring is the truth.”
“The place you spread your lies. But not anymore. We just took a major step toward shutting off the lights.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know the situation.”
“I know a topic that needs to be discussed when I see it. You’re one of the most famous musicians singing Christian music in the world today. You could lead a lot of people astray.”
Brandon thought of five different responses and rejected them all. His wrestle was not against flesh and blood. He pulled open the door of Carson’s studio and strode for the station lobby, his head down, muttering ideas of what to do next, his mind still swimming in an ocean of disbelief at what had just happened.
The sound of voices brought him out of his daze. A crowd of at least ten men and women milled about the lobby chatting with subdued voices as if they worried a stray microphone might pick up their scattered conversations.
Memory's Door (A Well Spring Novel) Page 19