Redeemed (7 page)

“Kylee, count them and let me know when I have sixty volunteers.”

With increasing impatience, Neferet waited. Finally, Kylee called, “There are sixty volunteers, Goddess.”

“Very good. Be a dear, Kylee, and take them to my penthouse. Have them wait on the balcony for my command. Oh, and open several cases of champagne. Pour generously. My volunteers must be rewarded!”

Looking confused but relieved, the sixty shuffled to the elevators. Neferet turned her attention to the remaining worshippers. They were staring up at her as if they were waiting for her to drop an enormous guillotine blade on them all.

“It would be easier to possess them all. Instructing modern humans on how to properly worship a Goddess is going to be unendingly tedious,” Neferet muttered to herself as she drummed her fingers against the iron railing.

A woman who was standing close enough to hear her took several steps toward the staircase and then, catching Neferet's gaze, she sank into a deep, graceful curtsy. Neferet's brows went up. She studied the woman, who remained in a curtsy, head respectfully bowed. She was older than Nancy had been, but not by much. And though she was tastefully dressed in a well-cut, expensive suit, she looked her age.

“You may rise,” Neferet finally said.

“Thank you, Goddess. May I have your permission to present myself to you?”

“You may, indeed,” Neferet said, thoroughly intrigued.

“I am Lynette Witherspoon, owner of Everlasting Expressions. I would like to offer my services to you.”

“Lynette. Yes, that name is inoffensive. You may keep it. And what exactly is Everlasting Expressions?”

“It is my company. I provide event planning, design, and coordination for a discriminating clientele,” she said.

Neferet appreciated the pride and confidence in her voice. “And what is it you propose to do for me?”

“Everything,” Lynette said firmly. She looked around the ballroom at the people huddled behind her before candidly meeting Neferet's gaze. “I believe the worship of a Goddess is an ongoing event of major importance that should be smoothly and tastefully run. If you allow me, I can assure you that your worship will be one spectacular event after another.”

“Interesting…” Neferet mused. “Lynette, you will not mind if I take a brief and painless glimpse at your motives, will you?” Though she phrased it as a question, Neferet didn't wait for Lynette's response. She did move into the woman's mind more gently than she had Nancy's, though.

What she found made the Goddess smile. “Lynette, you are an opportunist.”

“Y-yes,” she said a little shakily after Neferet left her mind.

“And you loathe men.” Neferet's smile widened.

“I am not divine, so I can only guess, but I think you understand that loathing,” Lynette said.

“I like you, Lynette. I will allow you to manage the planning of my worship.”

Lynette curtsied deeply again. “Thank you, Goddess.”

“And what is your first order of business?” Neferet was almost unbearably curious about what this unusual human intended.

“Well,” Lynette said, patting her chignon and studying the people who stood silently, stupidly behind her, “all events begin with two things—the correct clothing and the correct decorations.”

“I have only one requirement—dazzle me,” Neferet said.

“Yes, Goddess,” Lynette said respectfully.

“And you, my supplicants”—she gestured at the rest of the herd—“do whatever Lynette commands.” Neferet cut her eyes at Lynette and added, “As long as she doesn't command you to try to leave my Temple.”

“I wouldn't think of it, Goddess,” Lynette said quickly.

“Oh, my dear, you have thought of it. You just realized how unwise that thought was.”

Lynette bowed her head. “Touché, Goddess.”

“Now, I leave my subjects in your capable hands, Lynette. I am going to retire to my penthouse to prepare the—”

Neferet's departure was interrupted by the tall bellman, Judson, calling from where he stood in front of the chained and locked front doors of the Mayo. “Goddess! The police are here!”

 

CHAPTER FIVE

 

Lynette

“Help! Police! She's keeping us trapped in here!” A girl Lynette recognized as the maid of honor from last night's spectacularly expensive wedding screamed and, slipping around a snake-possessed staff member, began pounding on the thick glass of the front doors.

“Why must I always do everything myself? Staff, all of you except Judson take these humans to the basement!” Neferet's voice was filled with venom and the hotel staff reacted as if she had shot an electric current into them. As one, they began roughly prodding the group of terrified people toward a rear emergency exit. The vampyre floated down the staircase and drifted across the ballroom floor, passing so closely by Lynette that the train of her purple robe brushed over her feet. Lynette backed away, trying to blend inconspicuously with the shadows and avoid being culled with the rest of the herd, but Neferet snapped at her, “You, come with me. I wouldn't want you to miss the event
I
am planning.”

“As you wish, Goddess.” Lynette straightened her back, kept a tight hold on her fear, and followed Neferet. No matter what, she was not going to end like those poor staff schmucks who had the vampyre's disgusting snakes peeking out of their mouths. Nor was she going to do something stupid and get her head cut off. She'd survived an alcoholic mother and an abusive, white trash childhood to build an empire of her own. She had money and social status. She drove a Mercedes-Benz S-Class and owned a six-thousand-square-foot home in Eight Acres, the most exclusive, expensive gated community in midtown Tulsa. She vacationed in France and she only flew first class. She'd damn well survive a power-crazed vampyre who had delusions of immortality,
and
she'd figure out a way to profit from the situation.

Neferet had reached the shrieking girl. “You are not a proper supplicant!” With unnatural strength, she took a fist full of the girl's over-processed blond hair and pulled her head back until Lynette was sure her neck would snap. Then she pointed at the screaming girl's mouth. “Possess her!”

Lynette wanted to look away, but she couldn't. The black snake burrowed into the girl's mouth. Her eyes rolled in her head so that only the whites showed and her body went completely limp. Only Neferet's hold on her hair kept her upright. “I am going to name you Mabel. When I command, you will come willingly to me,” Neferet snarled, lifting the unconscious girl's face so that it was only a finger's length from hers. The sightless eyes blinked. As if the vampyre had thrown a switch, the terror on the girl's face was gone, leaving only a wooden but attentive expression in her blank eyes.

“Yes, Goddess,” she intoned emotionlessly.

Those horrid snakes are in complete control of whomever they possess,
Lynette thought.
Not me,
she promised herself.
It will not be me. I'd rather die than end up like that!

Neferet let loose her hold on the girl. She staggered, as if unbalanced, but remained standing. The vampyre smoothed her perfect hair and brushed an invisible speck of something from the shoulder of her robe. Then she glared at Lynette. “You know what will happen if you disappoint me and it turns out you aren't a proper supplicant.”

Lynette did not look away from Neferet's emerald eyes. She did drop down in the deep curtsy the vampyre had appreciated earlier. “I will not disappoint you, Goddess.”

She felt the sick slide of Neferet touching her mind and focused her thoughts on the truth—no damn way did she intend on doing anything that would cause the vampyre to turn against her.

“Soon, Lynette, you will believe that I am Goddess, and that your destiny is to serve me.” Before Lynette could comment, Neferet had turned her back to her, commanding, “Judson, unchain the front doors. Lynette, you will join me. Children, do not allow yourselves to be seen, but attend me!”

With a swoosh that had long reminded Lynette of old money and opulence, the austere brass and glass double doors opened and Neferet strode out, with Lynette close on her heels, so close she could feel an awful chill that radiated from the invisible snakes.

There were two TPD cars and an unmarked town car idling in the small circular drive directly in front of the hotel. Four uniformed officers were talking to a tall man in plain clothes, who was obviously in charge, which meant he was a detective of some type. At Neferet's appearance, the group instantly shifted their attention to the beautiful vampyre. The detective nodded to the others. They fell in step behind him as, stern-faced, he began to approach Neferet.

“No, I want you to remain by your cars,” Neferet said. She'd stayed close to the doors, standing under the wrought-iron awning that was the hallmark of the Mayo's entrance. She took a small step to the side and draped her arm around Lynette's shoulders—and shoved her.

Lynette didn't have to be psychic to know what the vampyre wanted her to do. Without hesitation, she stepped forward so that she was standing between Neferet and the police. Neferet's hand rested on her shoulder, and Lynette could feel the vampyre's hard, sharp fingernails pressing against the skin of her neck just over the artery that beat strong and fast there.

Lynette held perfectly still.

The tall man hesitated only a moment, though that moment seemed an eternity to Lynette. Then he and the officers took several steps back.

“There, that is so much better.” Lynette could hear the smile in Neferet's voice. “Now we can chat more politely. Detective Marx, it is so nice of you to visit me. It has turned out to be a lovely afternoon, hasn't it? It is as if the tumult of yesterday's weather washed the city clean.” Neferet spoke affably, one hand still resting on Lynette's shoulder.

“Neferet, I need to ask you some questions. Would you rather come down to the station than have me interview you here?”

Neferet's sigh was one of exaggerated disappointment. “So there are to be no social niceties between us?”

“Under normal circumstances, I have no problem with social niceties, as you well know. You and I have worked amicably together before. But what happened in Tulsa yesterday was far from normal, and I don't have time for much politeness.” He paused and gestured at Lynette. “And I think it's pretty ironic that you're complaining about social niceties when you're holding a hostage in front of you.”

The pressure from Neferet's fingernail was instantly gone, and the vampyre withdrew her hand from Lynette with an intimate caress of her cheek. “Detective, you are very mistaken. Lynette, are you my hostage?”

“No, Goddess,” she said, shaking her head and doing her best to act as if it was an everyday occurrence to be a human shield for a psychotic vampyre. “I am your willing supplicant.”

“There, you see. All is well. Lynette is simply here because she worships me. But why are you here, Detective Marx? Are the questions you are so curious about regarding Woodward Park or the Boston Avenue Church?”

Lynette saw the detective's eyes narrow. “What do you know about the Boston Avenue Church?”

Neferet laughed. “Everything! Ask me a question, any question at all. Would you like to know how long that mewing excuse for a pastor screamed before I killed him, or why the councilman's wife was missing her lovely white Armani suit, which was, coincidentally, just my size, when you found her drained, lifeless body outside the so-called sanctuary? You see, blood is very difficult to get out of fine linen.”

As Neferet was speaking, Lynette watched the change in the police. First, their faces registered shock, and then, as they drew their guns, revulsion and anger.

The detective's gun pointed over Lynette's right shoulder. “Lynette,” he called to her. “Walk directly to us. Keep your hands clear, where we can see them.”

Lynette knew it didn't matter that Neferet wasn't touching her. She had absolutely no choice. “No, thank you,” she said, managing somehow to keep her voice from shaking. “I'm happy staying here with the Goddess.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” one of the cops blurted. “She's a fucking vampyre who murdered a church full of innocent people! She isn't a goddess.”

“Lynette, I do not appreciate foul language. Do you?” Neferet asked.

Holding her breath, Lynette responded the only way she could. Shaking her head, she said, “No, I don't.”

Neferet cocked her head to the side and studied the officer who had spoken. Lynette saw his body twitch. “Officer Jamison, does foul language fill your mind when you fantasize about your ten-year-old stepdaughter? How about when you watch her sleep and admit to yourself that you are mere days away from taking your desires for her from fantasies to reality?”

The color drained from the officer's face. “That's a fucking lie!” he sputtered.

“More profanity. Methinks the man doth protest too much,” Neferet said, then she spoke conspiratorially to Lynette. “It is a misquote, yet it seems to fit the situation well, don't you think?”

“Yes, I do,” Lynette said, watching the officer closely. The man was red-faced and looked as if he could explode at any moment—and Lynette realized Neferet hadn't been baiting him or making anything up. She'd slid into his mind and revealed his dirty little secret.

“You fucking bitch!” Officer Jamison yelled.

“That's enough of that!” Detective Marx commanded the uniformed man, then he refocused on Lynette and Neferet, speaking in a clear, calm voice that made Lynette wish she could run from the vampyre's insanity straight into his protection. “Lynette, if you choose to remain with Neferet, then you may also join her in a jail cell. Neferet, you are under arrest for the murder of the entire congregation of the Boston Avenue Church.”