Suki was still staring at Scott. He caught her eye and barely suppressing an eye roll, he turned his head to Annabelle and pointed to her clerical collar.
“Never been much of a churchgoer meself. What are you doing here?”
“Oh, I’m just here to check you out,” Annabelle said, widening her eyes. She waggled her head, a smirk flitting across her lips. “Make sure you’re on the up and up. Just kidding,” she added quickly when she saw Scott’s coarse, meaty hands clench and his expression darken. She wondered if there were a bit more than family history behind Scott’s decision to take to the road. “I saw Julia and Sally at the market and thought I’d introduce myself. They invited me here to meet you all. Make sure you’re not up to no good.” She trilled nervously and thumped her fist on her thigh. Scott regarded her curiously, his frown lines deepening.
“I think you’ll find us all just yer ordinary folk, keeping themselves to themselves, if you know what I mean.”
“Ah, I know exactly what you mean, Scott,” Annabelle agreed. “More salad?”
“Yes, please!” Scott said, his eyes lighting up. “I love a good salad.”
“I thought you’d be more of a meat man.”
“I was until I got here.” Scott was tipping up the bowl to scoop the last of the salad onto his plate. “Totally changed what I eat. My diet used to be all meat, preferably wrapped in pastry and washed down with beer. And now here we are in Cornwall, home of the famous Cornish pastie, and I wouldn’t touch one of ‘em with a barge pole. I love my veg. If she could see me now, my old Ma would be proud as punch and totally confused, ‘cuz I couldn’t stand them when I was a nipper. I wouldn’t mind the odd bit of cheese now and again, though.”
Scott didn’t say any more, and Annabelle watched him as she ate Julia’s tasty coconut curry. She marveled at the odd sight of this beefy, hirsute man shoveling lettuce and tomatoes into his mouth, chomping away with his eyes closed in delirium, until the clanging of a spoon against a mug interrupted her. Theo stood and waited until he had everyone’s attention.
“Peace everyone,” he addressed the group, as Sally handed out glasses filled with light gold wine. He cast his eyes around. “As you all know, tonight is the celebration of the legend of our saviors, St. Petrie and Lord Darthamort. I hope you are ready for a fabulous evening. The celebration will commence at 9 PM sharp down by the bonfire.” Theo looked ahead to Annabelle, “I do hope you will join us, Reverend.”
Annabelle raised her eyebrows, surprised by this invitation. She looked around the table and saw that all eyes were on her awaiting her answer.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The others began to bang on the table in a rhythmic, steady beat. Thomas was slapping his knee, Scott was making the plates bounce on the table, Suki picked up her fork and tapped it against her mug. Even Julia drummed her fingertips on the tabletop.
Annabelle put her hands to her ears as the beat got faster and faster until there was a cacophony of thumps and bangs as her fellow diners abandoned their rhythm and pounded randomly with their implements.
Theo stood like a conductor in front of them, his hands aloft, his eyes closed. Drawing his hands together and then quickly apart with a flourish, he gave the command to end the display and immediately, everyone went quiet.
Annabelle let out a huge sigh of relief. The others at the table looked past her, and she turned to see Sally walk in with the biggest crumble she’d ever seen. It dwarfed her rhubarb flan. She leaned over to Thomas and whispered, “What’s going on?”
“Th-Theo’s just psyching us up for the celebration. He likes them loud. N-None of us are really loud people, if you know what I mean, so he revs us up a bit. Gives us some alcohol to help things along, which of course, because we’re usually teetotal, has an immediate effect.”
“But what’s going to happen?”
“After we’ve had crumble, we’re going to rumble, as we say. We’ll go back to our rooms to prepare and then meet outside by the bonfire. Theo will have his “come to Jesus” moment, and then we’ll make some noise and dance around a bit. We watch the fire burn out and go to bed around midnight. It’s just a bit of harmless fun.”
Annabelle looked at the other six people around the table. Sally was dishing out the crumble, and they were passing around the bowls. She noticed Julia reach out and spoon cream on to her pudding.
“What’s that?” she asked Thomas.
“Pureed tofu. It’s not that bad. Go on, have some. It tastes like sour cream.”
“Don’t you want your crumble, Vicar?” Scott asked her, eyeing her bowl greedily.
“No, no, thank you. I’m being…good,” she replied, not looking at him.
“Mind if I have it?” he asked.
“No, go ahead.”
Scott pushed his bowl out of the way and slid Annabelle’s over to him. He fell upon it greedily.
Annabelle barely noticed. She was more concerned with the febrile atmosphere that now pervaded the room and everyone around the table. Gone was the quiet murmur of gentle chitchat, and in its place was now laughter, shouts, and the odd backslap. Suki and Sally were arm wrestling, Julia was smiling and jiggling her knees up and down, and Thomas was attacking his dessert and letting out loud murmurs of appreciation. Scott was singing to himself while performing a strange dance that looked like a mashup of the Funky Chicken and the Macarena. They all appeared giddy with anticipation. Annabelle would have thought them roaring drunk except that they’d only had one glass of wine each. There was an air of mania present. Cutting through it all, Theo sat watching her serenely. What had she got herself into?
There was a bang from the hallway outside.
“Hey! Hey! Where is she? Sally!” yelled a man from the hallway.
The raucous scene quietened immediately. Sally went pale and stood up. As she did so, the door burst open and in came a man, red-faced, unshaven, and rough. He was panting and sweating, wearing an old t-shirt and worn jeans. There were dark shadows under his eyes.
“Sally!”
“Dad, what are you doing here?”
“I’ve come to get you.”
“What? No…”
“You’re coming home. With me.”
“Dad, I—”
The man strode quickly across the room toward his daughter, his jaw and fists clenched tightly. Theo stood gracefully and put himself between the man and Sally, his hands raised.
“Look, Richard—”
“Get out of my way, you.” Richard put his hands on Theo’s arm to push him. Theo stood firm.
“You need to listen to your daughter, Richard.”
Richard thrust his red, lined face into Theo’s smooth, handsome one. “I’ve been listening. I’ve listened and listened. And the time for that is now over. You,” he poked Theo in the chest with his forefinger, “are a menace. A snake. You charm young women, vulnerable women, separating them from their families, stealing their money.”
“I haven’t stolen anyone’s money, sir.”
“Not yet you haven’t, but you will, given time. That’s what you’re all about, you sorts. Breaking up families, gaining the trust of poor saps, leaving nothing but misery and broken relationships behind you.” He looked over Theo’s shoulder at his daughter as he spoke.
Theo said, “I can assure you that’s not what I want nor intend. Sally is free to leave us at any time. It is her right to do as she pleases.”
“You’ve addled her mind!”
“She is an adult, and she has chosen to remain here, sir.” There was silence in the room.
“Only because you’ve brainwashed her. It’s now time for her to come home. She needs to be where her mother and me can d–deprogram her or whatever it is, you’ve done to her.”
“Dad, it’s not like that.” Sally was pleading.
“We don’t brainwash anyone, Richard. Everyone operates from free will here. We come and go as we please. We encourage each other to do so. We are the very opposite of brainwashed.” Theo was preternaturally calm, his
expression and voice cool and relaxed in the face of the seething, older man. Richard’s lips were pulled back as he bared his teeth like a hostile dog.
Scott stood to intervene. He was much larger and threatening than Sally’s father, but what Richard lacked in presence, he made up with fury and a father’s protective instinct.
“Sit down!” he shouted at Scott. Scott glanced over to Theo. Theo gave a slight nod, and Scott slowly sank back into his chair.
“Richard, we don’t want any trouble, but you can’t just come in here and kidnap your own daughter.”
“Why not? You did!”
“Come on, man, now you’re being ridiculous. Calm down, and break some bread with us.”
“I’m here to take my daughter home.”
“Dad, please. You’re embarrassing me.”
“Come with me, Sally. Now!”
“It’s your choice,” Theo said to Sally. “You can stay or go. We will bless you whatever you choose.”
No one spoke. The shocked audience watched the drama unfolding in silence.
Sally looked wildly about her. She was blushing furiously, clenching and unclenching her fists. Her gaze flickered between the two men as she considered her choice.
“No, Dad. As I’ve said before, I’m staying here. You can’t make me. I’m not a little girl anymore.”
Richard growled and took a step closer. Theo put his hand on the man’s chest. Richard slapped it away. Scott stood then and walked over. He grabbed Richard’s arm, his bulk and menace acting as a brake to prevent a fight breaking out.
“You heard what she said. I think it better that you leave.” Scott’s voice rumbled low and quietly in his East Anglian burr.
Richard glared at Scott. He looked back at Sally, who had turned her back on her father and was being comforted by Julia.
Richard turned to Theo, “You, you are a coward and a psychopath! I will get you for this, taking my daughter away from me, upsetting her mother!” He spun on his heels to leave, but quickly swirled back, and taking Theo and Scott by surprise, managed to land a left hook that knocked Theo to the ground.
Scott grabbed Richard by the arms and bundled him backwards, pinning him against the wall, the two men’s faces just inches apart. Theo struggled to his feet, gingerly feeling his jaw. “Leave him. Just be on your way, Richard. You’ve no business here.”
Richard shrugged himself out of Scott’s grasp. “I’m going, I’m going. But I will get you.” Richard furiously pointed his finger at Theo before stumbling out of the room, closely followed by Scott. A moment later, they heard the entrance door clang shut, and the atmosphere in the room relaxed, but only slightly.
Sally ran from the room, sobbing. Suki followed her. Theo let out a sigh. “Perhaps we should move again,” he said, sitting down slowly.
“We can’t do that!” It was Thomas. Theo looked at him in surprise. “I—I like it here,” Thomas added quietly, looking down at the table.
Theo shrugged, “We may have to if he keeps on pestering us.” Thomas, his eyes downcast, quietly picked up his spoon and resumed eating his dessert.
Julia reached into her pocket and pulled out Barnaby. She put him on the table. Even the little rabbit seemed wary, not straying far from his owner, despite the remnants of salad that were left at the other end of the table.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Annabelle sat on Sally’s bed in her messy room. Fallen plaster had left holes in the walls and the air smelled of damp. The tremendously high ceilings were draped with cobwebs. Despite this, Sally had made it as “girly” and presentable as she could. Nets covered the heavy faded curtains, and old Christmas tree lights had been hung across the pelmet and around the room. On her bed, Sally had laid a quilt made of bright, randomly colored, eight-inch squares. There were also a myriad of pillows and cushions at its head. It was a dark room, but the evening summer sunlight streamed through the window, dust motes bouncing along on invisible currents of air, birds chirruping outside as they prepared for dusk to fall. It was hot, and the atmosphere in the shabby room was stifling.
Sally leaned forward on a rickety wooden chair in front of a mirror, distorted, and spotted with age. She was putting on theatrical makeup, painting black swooping eyebrows that extended way beyond her natural ones. A mask stretched across her eyes and nose. It was white, and she had painted on it silver, purple, and black tiny furls that curled and uncurled in intricate patterns across it. The design extended to her eyebrows and temples. She had painted directly onto her skin with tiny brushes so that the line between mask and skin was barely discernable. Annabelle marveled at her patience. The odd slick of lipstick was about all she could manage and even then it was rather a hit and miss affair.
“Does everyone go to this trouble?”
“Oh no, Julia will wear her mask plain. Suki might show up and ask me to paint her, it depends.”
“What about the others? The men? What do they do?” After the scene in the dining room, Annabelle had felt obliged to stay. She had comforted Sally and watched her as her emotions stilled, her art calming her. Now her hands were steady, her eyes clear, and her brush strokes firm and confident.
“The men will wear different masks. The women represent St. Petrie, goodness, peace, happiness. They are the light. The men dress up as Lord Darthamort. They represent justice, the punishment of all that is dark and evil.”
“Two sides of the same coin.”
“Exactly. Because Lord Darthamort is half-goat, half-man, the masks are more like headdresses. They are furry, bear-like. They cover their heads entirely, and they have real fur, feathers, horns, and teeth! The boys make them themselves from roadkill and the dead animals we find.”
“That’s quite something,” Annabelle said. Sally looked in her mirror at Annabelle’s reflection. “For vegans, I mean. Don’t they object to putting something like that on their heads?”
“They don’t. The masks are quite scary, and I think the boys enjoy the opportunity to let loose. They really get into character. Well, Thomas doesn’t, but Theo and Scott do. You’ll see.”
“I’m not sure I want to find out.”
“Oh, it’s fine. It’s just a bit of fun! Just a group of grown-up kids, yelpin’ and a-hollerin’ around a bonfire.”
There was a knock on the door, and Suki floated in. Her feet were bare. Pinned into her hair were small, white, star-shaped flowers.
“Your hair looks lovely,” Sally said.
“Thank you. Jasmine smells so divine, I thought I’d carry it around with me. My hair seemed the perfect place for it.” Suki brushed a tendril of her fine, pale hair from her face. “Would you do my makeup, darling?”
Sally got up from her chair. She turned it to the window, gesturing for Suki to sit down. With the tip of her finger, she tilted Suki’s chin upward. On the table next to her was an array of make-up, brushes, and applicators. Sally dropped a fine brush into a tumbler of water, and then she dipped it into a tiny glass jar before leaning in and getting to work.
With her jaw set in concentration, she painted in silence with the exception of gentle murmured instructions to Suki to look down or tilt her head to one side or the other. Suki, mindful that even the tiniest movement could spell disaster, did exactly as she was told and remained silent.
When Sally finally stepped back, Annabelle was amazed at the result. Unlike Sally, Suki wasn’t wearing a mask at all. Sally had painted directly onto her face.
She had enveloped Suki’s eyes in silver paint. It reached across her upper and lower lids, winging out to her temples, into the corners of her eye sockets, and down her nose ending in sharp points. In the middle of her forehead, she had painted a shining blue orb. Directly above Suki’s eyebrows and at the outer edges of her eyelids, were blue and purple flowers. They added color and a sense of glamor. All these elements were joined by sweeping black lines that swooped and swirled in complex lattice patterns around Suki’s eyes, showing off her clear, sky-blue irises. The black swirls continued acro
ss her nose, forehead, and down to the apples of her cheeks. Glitter and tiny sparkling jewel-colored rhinestones finished off the effect. It was masterful, mysterious, and Annabelle had to admit, rather alluring.
“Golly, that’s incredible!” she exclaimed.
“Would you like me to do you?” Sally asked.
“Oh, um, well, um…”
“It washes straight off.”
Annabelle looked at the two brightly colored, glamorous women and then at her plain, unadorned reflection in the black spotted mirror.
“Oh, go on then. It can’t hurt, just this once,” she said, shutting out the negative voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Philippa’s.
Thirty minutes later, Annabelle had her own mask. Hers was lighter, brighter, and more colorful than Suki’s. In addition to black swooping lines, Sally had blended yellow powder across Annabelle’s nose and cheeks. Red, purple, and blue shades curved in a “C” shape from the ends of her eyebrows to the middle of her cheekbones. Light blue had been stroked across her brow bones along with lilac and pink. Sally had traced the black lines with gold dots which gave the decoration a three dimensional effect. In the middle of Annabelle’s forehead was a silver rhinestone surrounded by six smaller ones. Sally had finished her eyes off with smoky gray and brown eye shadow, eyeliner, and lashings of mascara, tilting Annabelle’s chin to the light so she could apply it accurately.
Sally stood back, and Annabelle blinked rapidly several times in succession. She wasn’t used to wearing eye makeup. She looked in the mirror at her reflection.
“Ohhhhhh,” Annabelle could hardly believe who was looking back at her. “Ohhhhhh,” she repeated, stunned. “It looks absolutely beautiful. Thank you.” She turned her head to the right and left, examining Sally’s work. “Gosh, is that really me?” She leaned in closer to examine the fine detail of Sally’s work. The black, gold, pinks, yellow, and blues made her eyes sparkle and pop, while her long, black eyelashes framed them so they looked bigger and appealing.
Killer at the Cult Page 5