Blood Sins (29 page)

The only positive aspect of his seemingly chronic foot-in-mouth disease where this woman was concerned was that he was now reasonably sure that the sarcastic voice in his head was entirely his own.

He finished his coffee so quickly that he burned his tongue, then set the cup on the kitchen counter, saying, "Hollis was right--it's been a long day. And no matter how tomorrow goes, I think we should all rest while we can get it."

"Yes. You're probably right."

She set her own cup aside and walked him to the front door, her slight frown worrying him until she said, "On second thought, maybe we should spend some of our time tonight practicing. Whose idea was it to do this tomorrow, instead of waiting a few days? Oh, right--mine."

Sawyer wanted to put his arms around her but fought off the impulse, determined not to make a second mistake on the heels of the first one. Instead, he said, "Well, you and the weather forecasters seem to be in agreement on this one. Get some rest, Tessa. I have to go see a friendly judge about some paperwork." "See you tomorrow."

"Yeah."

Tessa closed the door behind him and leaned back against it.

"That," Hollis said from the stairs, "was mean."

"I thought you were going to take a nap."

"I changed my mind. Besides, it's so late now I might as well just wait for bedtime. And don't change the subject. Why didn't you throw the poor chief a crumb or two? In my book, he gets points for
not
being a practiced smooth talker."

"In my book too. But . . . wrong time and place. Maybe when all this is over and the dust settles . . ."

"Seize the day," Hollis advised. "When all this is over and the dust settles, there may be only a few of us left standing."

"Yeah," Tessa said. "That's what I'm afraid of."

"S
ure you want to do this?" Galen asked.

Bishop looked up from the map he'd been studying to find both Galen and Quentin watching him. "I'm sure."

"We're banking on an awfully big maybe," Quentin pointed out. "A whole series of them, in fact. Maybe the weather will cooperate. Maybe our abilities will be affected in ways we can use--hell, just
control
--inside the Compound. Maybe Samuel won't figure out what we're up to until too late."

"My favorite maybe," Galen offered.

"It's a doozy," Quentin agreed.

Dryly, Bishop said, "If either of you has a better idea, now's the time."

The other two exchanged looks, then Galen shrugged. "I've got nothing."

"No," Quentin said. "Me either. Sadly."

"Then we go with what we've got."

Quentin sighed. "Reese hasn't been able to find evidence in that place in more than two years of trying, and he's good."

Galen muttered something under his breath.

Quentin ignored him, keeping his attention fixed on his boss. "If there was anything there to hang a warrant on, he would have found it. So even if your friendly federal judge agrees we have cause and signs a warrant, all that does is get us inside legally. And since we're trying to avoid Samuel's apocalyptic version of Waco, we go in low-key and casual."

"Wouldn't do any good to go in heavily armed anyway," Galen pointed out. "Not against Samuel."

"Which will probably reassure the judge, since he has no idea we're dealing with something a lot more dangerous than guns."

"Actually," Bishop said, "Judge Ryan knows all about psychics and how dangerous psychic abilities can be."

"Judge Ryan." Quentin stared at him. "Ben Ryan?"

"Ben Ryan. He was appointed a federal judge a year or so ago, and we're in his district."

"So how's Cassie?"

"Cassie's flourishing. And so are the girls."

"Ah," Galen said, making the connection. "Your cousin Cassie. Did she ever get her abilities back?"

"She's telepathic with Ben, but with no one else. Which suits both of them completely."

Quentin was thinking along different lines. "So Ben's out on this limb with you. I mean, if we leave that Compound without Samuel in custody and/or without enough evidence or enough willing witnesses to make a case against him, there's going to be egg on a lot of faces."

"Worth the risk," Bishop said briefly. "And Ben agreed with me."

"The Director could use any failure against you, Bishop. Especially something as potentially explosive as going after a religious leader, cult or no cult. It's exactly the kind of thing he's been waiting for."

"I know."

Looking at Galen, Quentin said, "But no pressure."

"We should be used to it by now. How many times have we gone into a high-stakes situation functionally blind?"

"A few. And yet we prevail. So far, at least." Quentin frowned.

"But I sort of wish Hollis wasn't here. She's got more lives than a cat, granted, but she's used up most of them by now. And with Samuel's fear of mediums--"

"It's a weakness," Bishop said. "We use it against him if we have to."

"And how do we do that?" Quentin inquired politely.

"Hollis knows what to do."

"Yeah, and knowing that is fine and dandy
if
the energy in the Compound affects us the way we hope it will. But if it doesn't--if things go horribly wrong, as things so often do in the kind of confrontation we're setting up--then what? Hollis is standing in the open doorway between this world and the next--and one good shove the wrong way means we lose her."

"I know," Bishop said.

"My guess is that Samuel won't hesitate to shove. In fact, I'm guessing that'll be his knee-jerk response."

"I know," Bishop repeated.

"And then there's Tessa. Not only will she be going into that place alone, but the chances are damn good Samuel will know she's coming and have the time to conjure a nice little welcome for her."

Bishop didn't repeat his words, but merely waited.

Galen murmured, "Making your point the hard way."

"I don't know any other way to make it," Quentin told him. Galen opened his mouth to comment, but the summons of his cell phone distracted him.

"That's another thing," Quentin said in a lowered tone as Galen took the call. "Cell reception down in the valley seriously sucks, and Sawyer said the police radios weren't much better. Especially now, with all the fluctuating energies trapped in that valley. The very energies we're hoping will enhance our abilities are going to make it tricky as hell for us to time this thing, especially when we aren't sure how much time Tessa will need to do her part."

"I have an idea about that," Bishop said.

Galen snapped his cell phone closed and said, "Huh."

The other two looked at him.

"Reports of my death," he said, "have apparently reached the Director."

"He's still in Paris," Bishop said slowly.

"Yeah. But my question is, how would that information have gotten to Washington, let alone Paris? Nobody here reported it. Aside from Reese, only two people witnessed me being shot and killed. Neither of them could have known I was FBI. And both are supposedly loyal members of Reverend Samuel's church."

I
t was nearly midnight when the phone rang, but Senator LeMott was still awake, propped up in bed, not reading.

He tossed the unread newspaper aside, pulled off his reading glasses, and answered the phone. "LeMott."

"I have a message for you, Senator. From down South." The voice was muffled, not even clearly identifiable as male or female.

"What's the message?"

"He found himself a friendly judge. A federal judge. The warrant was signed about an hour ago. They're going into the Compound late tomorrow morning."

"In force?"

"Not exactly."

LeMott listened to the muffled voice for another minute or two, then merely said, "Thank you." And hung up.

He sat there in bed for several more minutes, staring at the wood fire crackling in his bedroom's fireplace without seeing it. Then he reached into the drawer of his nightstand and pulled out a cell phone. He pressed one number and waited while the call went through. When it was answered on the other end, he spoke a single word, very clearly.

"Viper."

Then he closed the phone. Without hesitation, and with unerring aim, he threw it across the room and into the fire.

He wasted no time in pushing newspapers and covers aside so he could sit on the edge of the bed and use the phone on his nightstand for the second time that night. Again, his call was answered promptly.

"Yes, Senator?"

"Get the jet ready. I'm on my way."

"Yes, sir."

Senator Abe LeMott hung up the phone, then went into his dressing room, turning on lights as he went. He drew an already-packed bag from a shelf in one of his closets and set it near to hand.

It had been packed for quite a while.

He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, flexing his shoulders as though shifting a burden.

Then he began getting dressed.

A
T FIRST,
Ruby wasn't even sure she was awake. It was pitch black, for one thing, the sort of darkness that was only possible in sleep. And the silence was curiously muffled, the way it was when thick snow lay on the ground and covered the trees.

And then there was the fact that she couldn't seem to move a muscle other than her eyelids.

"You've been naughty, my child. I'm afraid you must be punished."

With that memory came the pain that had followed his words, and Ruby felt hot tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. Pain, not pleasure, not any kind of pleasure, not even the pretend kind. It had felt as though a white-hot knife had jabbed at her head, again and again.

She had tried to keep her shell as hard as she could, had fought with everything inside her, and something told her now that it was only because of that struggle that she was still
her
.

But as hard as she'd fought, Father had managed to steal something from her, she understood that dimly. He had managed to steal some of her strength. Maybe most of her strength.

She thought that was why she couldn't move. Because it didn't feel like she was tied up or anything like that. It was just that her arms and legs felt incredibly heavy and a bit numb, as though they'd been asleep.

Ruby tried to call out for help, but only a bare whisper of air escaped her lips, and she had the sudden terrified notion that he had stolen her voice when he took her strength. He had stolen her voice and left her here--

Where?

Was she still in the Ritual Room?

She had no sense of space above her or around her. In fact, she could have been in a coffin for all she knew.

Another terrifying possibility.

She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping it would be better that way, but the blackness and the panic and terror were the same. She had no idea how much time had passed, how much time was passing. She had no idea whether this--surely part of Father's punishment--was temporary or whether she would just disappear, as so many others had disappeared.

Her mother was gone. Her father. Brooke. She had even sent Lexie away.

Ruby had never felt so alone in her life.

T
he only taxi Grace could boast pulled up to the gates of the Compound, and Tessa rolled down her window to speak to Carl Fisk.

"Good morning, Mrs. Gray." He was, as always, polite.

"Mr. Fisk. I called ahead and talked to Mr. DeMarco; I came to get my car. And to see Ruth, if possible."

"He said you were expected, Mrs. Gray. Joe, you might want to check with DeMarco after you let Mrs. Gray out; he said something about a couple of the women wanting to go into town this morning."

"Okay, I'll check with him. See you, Carl." The middle-aged driver was also polite, but disinterested enough that Tessa had concluded he probably wasn't a church member. Probably.

As the taxi passed through the gates, Tessa concentrated on shoring up her shields. Even just barely into the Compound, she could feel the skin-tingling effects of the odd energy fields. She thought it was stronger than it had been the day before and wondered if it was caused by the approaching storm system that had surprised the local weather people--or by something else.

DeMarco met the taxi at his accustomed spot in the Square; beside him, two of the young wives of the church waited, scrubbed and smiling and curiously indistinguishable from each other.

Tessa paid her driver and got out of the taxi, and the two young women got in. She stood beside DeMarco and watched the car pull away.

"Friday shopping?" she asked him quietly.

"They were discussing whether to go tomorrow. Since the taxi was bringing you, I suggested they go today." His voice was just as quiet as hers.

"So there's two away safe."

"I hope so."

"What about the others?"

"Usual routine. Most of the children will be at their lessons, in their homes. Well out of the way, at least initially. There are probably less than a dozen people inside the church, most of them in the recreation area or upstairs in the office space."

"Where's Samuel?"

"Meditating, as he does every day at this time. Tessa, you need to be very careful. There was something different about him this morning."

"Does he know I'm here?"

"I don't know. What I do know is that he held a Youth Ritual yesterday while I was gone."

"Is that--"

"Call it an initiation, in stages. As the girls reach puberty, he begins to lead them through a series of Ceremonies supposedly intended to purify their path to womanhood."

Tessa felt queasy. "He begins stimulating them?"

"So I gather. The Ceremonies for his Chosen ones are attended only by Samuel, Ruth, and the girls--four each time. But I've seen the afterglow."

"Christ."

Calmly, DeMarco said, "For that alone he deserves to burn in hell. But something unusual happened yesterday, or at least I think it did. This group is the one including Ruby."

"You never said she--"