Blood Sins (26 page)

"Afraid so."

"But you said--Wait. The lightning?"

"Why not? He's used it to kill on a small scale. Who's to say he can't eventually gain or channel enough energy to be able to destroy on a truly massive scale?"

Quentin murmured, "Welcome to our world."

"Shit," Sawyer said. "No offense, but I'm finding it very difficult to think in apocalyptic terms. That was never a brand of religion I bought into."

"Perfectly understandable," Quentin told him. "I've been having trouble with it myself. And I saw it. I think."

"That was your vision?" Tessa stared at him. "That Samuel destroyed the world?"

"Well, a goodly piece of this part of the world. All his followers. And Ruby. You, the chief, Hollis. Maybe only the beginning of his apocalypse, because my sense was that he was just getting started. There was sure as hell nobody stopping him."

Bishop spoke suddenly. "And Ruby."

Quentin lifted a brow at his boss. "Yeah. So?"

"You aren't including Ruby as one of his followers. Why not?"

Considering the question, Quentin said, "I have no idea. From all appearances, she
was
one of his followers. At least . . . she was sitting at his feet, almost like an acolyte. But he killed her too."

Bishop was frowning. "Are you sure that's what you saw?" "No. I mean, the visions are new to me, we both know that. They only last a few seconds, and I'm trying to see as much as I can, remember what I see, because so far everything's been literal rather than symbolic."

"So what did you see?" Hollis asked.

Since Quentin hadn't yet given Bishop the actual details of his vision, he tried to remember and relate every one; if he'd learned anything in his years with the SCU, it was that details could be and often were very important in their understanding of abilities and events.

"It was that outside pulpit of his, energy crackling in the air, hellish storm clouds overhead--and smoldering bodies everywhere. Samuel standing on that ledge of granite, his hands smoking, Ruby kneeling at his feet. And behind him . . ."

"Behind him?"

Quentin looked at Hollis, Tessa, and Sawyer in turn and grimaced. "You three, crucified."

"Literally?" Sawyer wondered how many times he had asked that incredulous question.

"Yeah. Crosses, ropes, iron spikes. The works. Everything but Roman centurions. Four crosses, three occupied. You and Hollis weren't conscious. Tessa was. Tessa cried out Ruby's name. Samuel looked down at Ruby, smiled, put his hand on her head--and she burst into flames. Tessa screamed. Samuel turned his head and looked at her, then stretched out his free hand toward her, and what looked like a blast of pure energy shot out of his fingers. That was it. All I saw."

R
uth took Mara's sweater and Ruby's cloak as soon as the girls entered the church. She hung both garments in the cloakroom, then rejoined the girls in the vestibule. "Your shoes, girls."

Obediently, they removed their shoes, lining them up just outside the cloakroom. Mara had to remove socks as well.

The giggling had quieted by now. All the girls were solemn as Ruth made sure everything was as it should be. That robes were clean and pressed, hair tidy, nails trimmed and neat.

Then Ruth led the way from the vestibule and down into one of the side hallways that ran the length of the church, just below ground level. The hallway was rather institutional, with plain walls, plain carpet, and rather ugly wall sconces. At the end of the hallway was a locked door. Ruth produced a ring of keys and unlocked the door, revealing another set of stairs that led down to yet another level.

The girls went ahead of Ruth down the stairs, all of them hearing the sounds of the door being closed and once again locked behind them. She joined them at the foot of the stairs, and the girls stood silently as the older woman, with the deliberation of ceremony, unlocked a small room just past the stairs. The interior of the room was lined with cabinetry, everything metal and frosted glass so that only vague shapes could be seen inside.

Why? Because it has to seem mysterious to us? Or is there something here in the Ceremony Room that's really important?

Ruby didn't know. But she hated this level of the church, where there were only hushed rituals and secrecy. Where she had to fight so hard to protect herself.

Using another key, Ruth unlocked a big stainless-steel cooler. Inside, on a glass shelf, they could all see four white roses in individual crystal vases. One at a time, Ruth brought out a rose and fastened it into a girl's hair, just above the left ear. Each girl bowed her head as the rose was affixed.

Ruby was last and bowed her head obediently while the rose was placed in her hair.
Perfect roses. Except that they have no scent.
Not that it mattered today, since Ruby could still smell the sickly-sweet fake rose perfume from the soap she had used.

Ruth didn't appear to notice. She went back into the Ceremony Room, opened another cabinet, and emerged with four white candles, which she gave to them. Each girl held a candle in both hands while Ruth ceremoniously lit them--with a plastic disposable lighter.

Ruby almost giggled.
Ridiculous. It's all so ridiculous.

And yet she was so afraid. Her hands were cold, her bare feet were cold, and her head was pounding because she was trying so hard to keep her protective shell in place. She was afraid she'd made a mistake in sending Lexie away to be safe, afraid Father would know about that, that he'd know she'd been hiding Lexie.

Afraid that he would know all the secrets she had done her best to keep from him.

There was nothing at all funny about that.

"Ready, girls?"

Ruby looked up fleetingly, and for an instant she saw the empty shell behind Ruth Hardin's solemn, serene face. That hard, ugly, scorched shell holding so much emptiness there couldn't have been much of Ruth left in there.

If any of her was left.

Ruby fixed her gaze on the flame of her candle and, along with the other girls, murmured, "Yes, Ruth."

Ruth led them single file down the hallway. Unlike the level above, this one was thickly carpeted, the plush wool soft against their bare feet. The walls were covered with fabric rather than paint or wallpaper, and the wall sconces were alight with dripping beads of crystal.

For the first time, it occurred to Ruby that the room they were nearing, the Ritual Room, was directly beneath the pulpit area of the church. She wondered why she had never realized that before, and even as she did, she understood.

Because her shell was stronger. She'd been making it stronger, concentrating harder--and without Lexie to protect, without Lexie needing to be unseen, all Ruby's energy had been able to focus on protecting herself.

And inside her shell, she was able to think clearly now, more clearly than she had ever been able to before. To wonder about things. She didn't have to see the faces of the girls ahead of her to know that they were becoming slack and expressionless, that their eyes were going dark and dazed.

Because it was always like that.

They didn't have shells. They couldn't protect themselves.

She felt a jab of guilt that she could protect herself and they couldn't, but she pushed that aside because she had to. She could only do so much; even protecting just Lexie had taken nearly everything she had, so she couldn't help her friends.

At least, she couldn't help them right now. She couldn't fold them inside her shell with her. But maybe she could do something else. Maybe she could bring help
to
them.

Maybe.

She wasn't sure how she could do that, not exactly. She wasn't even sure
if
she could. But she knew she was still connected to Tessa Gray. Not as strongly as she had been before she drew Tessa back here to the Compound so she could rescue Lexie, not as strong as she had been when she had warned Tessa not to feel so much out at the pet cemetery, but the tie was still there.

She could feel it.

And maybe . . . maybe she could use it.

Ruth paused outside the door of the Ritual Room and looked at the four girls in turn, making sure each still held their candle correctly, that each was still properly solemn.

Ruby wondered if she even noticed that Amy swayed slightly, her eyes wide and almost unseeing.

No. Because Ruth nodded in satisfaction, then used yet another key to unlock the door and lead the way inside.

Ruby drew a deep breath and followed the others.

"A
ll," Sawyer muttered. "That's
all
he saw."

Tessa said to Quentin, "What about that vision told you that you were seeing what would happen if we tried to help Ruby?"

"It wasn't anything I saw. But it was a certainty. I
knew
you guys would try to get Ruby out of the Compound today. And I knew that if you tried, what I saw would happen."

"No question? No doubt?"

Quentin shook his head. "Not a single one. I knew. And I've learned that I can trust that kind of certainty, because it's as rare as hen's teeth."

Hollis looked at Bishop. "You've dealt with visions longer, you and Miranda. Did Quentin see a possible future we've avoided because you guys chose to act? Or was it a prophecy we've only temporarily averted?"

Sawyer all but groaned. "A prophecy like Samuel's Prophecy? End-of-the-world stuff?"

Bishop said, "Only in the sense of being . . . ultimate. Un changeable in its inevitability. We've come to realize over the years that some things we see, some visions of the future, can be changed--if we act at the right time and in the right way. But sometimes our . . . interference is exactly the catalyst necessary to bring about the very events we try to stop. Some things have to happen just the way they happen. And they will happen. No matter what we do or try to do. So we tend to be very, very cautious in acting on a vision."

"And as far as we've been able to tell," Quentin added, "there's no good, consistently reliable way to determine whether one of us is looking at a
possible
future--or an
inevitable
one. There's always a choice of whether we try to change what we see or just work to try and minimize the train wreck heading our way. Quite often, the precog who has the vision isn't certain whether to act. Sometimes, on the other hand, we feel quite strongly about it. Though I've never been sure whether it's gut instinct or, hell, just a guess."

"Cosmic Russian roulette?" Sawyer looked around the table, hoping somebody would offer a less deadly analogy.

Nobody did.

Tessa said to Quentin, "But you're sure this time that by stopping us, you prevented the events in your vision?"

Quentin frowned slightly and his eyes went a bit distant, as though he was listening to some sound only he could hear. Then he blinked, shook his head, and replied, "I'm sure what I saw won't happen. Not the way I saw it happen, at least. But every instinct I can claim is telling me that Reese is right. Samuel intends to bring about whatever prophecy he saw, his version of an apocalypse. I don't know when it will happen, and I don't know why he needs it to happen, but I know that's his plan. And I know it's going to be soon. Very soon."

"How?" Sawyer asked finally. "How could he hope to have enough power to do anything on a scale like that? And don't anybody say lightning. I mean besides lightning."

"His army," DeMarco said. "Somehow, he means to use his followers to bring about his vision."

"In what way?" Sawyer demanded. "I mean, how could those ordinary people become a . . . a power source for a megalomaniac?"

It was Bishop who replied. "Psychics. We're virtually certain that in recent years Samuel's focused his recruitment efforts on active and latent psychics. Even aside from the abilities themselves, we always have a higher-than-normal amount of electrical energy in our brains."

"Maybe a fun bonus for Samuel," Quentin suggested. "Abilities he wants to steal and more energy to help fuel his efforts."

DeMarco said, "He's already stolen abilities from some of the latents, I think. People who likely never had a clue that a vital part of themselves was taken away. But the fact that he hasn't gone after the abilities of a few psychics in the church I
know
are active tells me that he has something else in mind for them. Maybe it has to do with his growing need for energy, or maybe he does intend to use them to bring about his Prophecy. I don't know."

"What about the people whose abilities he went after?" Sawyer was bewildered. "Were they destroyed in the process?"

"Some simply disappear. One of the reasons law enforcement--including you, Chief--hasn't had to deal with missing persons is because those who disappear tend to be new recruits, from outside this area. When they vanish, nobody outside the Compound knows or cares. And those inside are told and believe that whoever it was just didn't fit in and chose to leave. There's never any proof otherwise."

"But some are known," Sawyer insisted. "Some who go missing are either from this area or else have family and friends who notice they're missing. Like Ellen Hodges."

"Yes."

"If he's killed so many, why have we found so few bodies?"

"I don't know. The bodies you have found, most of them, were people that appeared to me to be killed in haste, without much if any forethought. They posed some kind of threat to Samuel, and so he acted. Each murder was less about stealing abilities than it was about protecting himself. Unfortunately, I was never able to see just
how
he acted, how he was able to do what he did; I only saw the results, and only on some occasions, not all of them. A body, virtually always with no visible wound. Each time, I was merely informed that there was a 'problem' I needed to deal with. Samuel suggested the river rather than burial. I don't know why."

Galen spoke up for the first time to say, "You showed up within minutes of Sarah being killed." It wasn't an accusation, merely a comment.

"Sarah?" Sawyer looked around the table. "Are you talking about the most recent Jane Doe in my morgue?"