The Burning Time (28 page)

John started down the hill. If he took the road, it was maybe two miles to the church. If he cut across the farmland separating the river from the Perpetual Hope Cemetery behind the church, he could cut a half mile of distance, but it meant running through a field of summer corn already six feet high.

No choice. He had to get there as fast as possible, even if it meant risking a broken ankle.

Horns blew and people shouted and shook their fists as he crossed the bridge and then dodged traffic on the Five Mile Road before sprinting into the cornfield. Rough leaves scratched his arms and face. Dust flew up with each step, clogging his nose and burning his eyes, turning into crusty mud as it mixed with his sweat.

Something growled and barked nearby, hidden by the intervening rows of corn. John risked a glance, saw movement amid the tightly-clustered stalks.

Just a farm dog. It won’t do more than bark.

Up ahead, two large dogs, tongues hanging down and dripping foaming saliva, stepped into sight. Both looked underfed and very hungry. John slowed his pace. Another growl, this one behind him. He looked back as two more dirt-encrusted hounds, their ribs showing and teeth bared, emerged from the corn. Rustling movement and angry growls to both sides told him he was surrounded.

Now what?

One of the dogs in front of him crouched down, preparing to spring. The others copied it.

John gripped his two-way radio in both hands and prepared to fight.

*   *   *

Mitch watched Danni drive away and felt proud of himself for not being nervous. If anything, he had the safest job. With Christian and Billy Ray both gone, and all the old ladies and housewives over at the school, there was like zero chance of anyone seeing him. He figured if Christian’s office was unlocked, he could get in and out before Danni got to the school. Heck, even if he had to search Christian’s bedroom, there’d still be plenty of time.

As long as Christian hadn’t left any hidden surprises.

That thought slowed him a bit as he walked down the hall to the office. What if there was something in there, some kind of guard demon? Or a shotgun rigged to go off? Why hadn’t they thought about that before, so John could make some kind of charm or potion to protect him?

Mitch came to a full stop in front of the office door. Suddenly, he didn’t want to touch the knob. His stomach was all quivery and he felt like he might pee his pants.

Stop being such a baby
.
There’s nothing in there.
And suddenly he knew he was right. Christian couldn’t have left anything inside. What if Billy Ray had to go into the office? Or someone stopped by unexpectedly? That would be too hard for Christian to explain, at least while some people in town still hadn’t fallen under his spell.

Still, it couldn’t hurt to be cautious. He rattled the knob several times, then put his ear to the door and listened. Nothing. Not a sound.

He turned the knob. Unlocked. Holding his breath, he gave the door an ever-so-slight push, opening it less than an inch.

Nothing.

Mitch pushed the door all the way open and jumped to one side, his heart hammering in his chest.

The office was empty.

“I knew it,” he whispered. He hurried inside and closed the door, purposely averting his eyes from the spot where he’d been tied up and nearly killed. Instead, he went around to the other side of Christian’s desk and started opening drawers. The first two contained the usual things you’d expect in an office desk: pens, paper clips, folders containing paperwork relating to various aspects of church business. But it was in the bottom drawer that Mitch found what he needed.

“Jackpot,” he said, and jumped a little at the sound of his own voice. He pulled out the book, a leather-bound tomb with words written on the cover in some language he couldn’t read. “This has to be his.” He slid the book into his backpack, hiding it between some comic books and the latest Daniel Waters zombie novel.

A quick look at his watch showed he’d only been inside ten minutes. Time to go. He had what he needed.

But maybe he could find something else to help John. Why waste the chance if he was already inside?

Five minutes. Then I’m outta here.

Mitch moved quickly down the hall, keeping himself pressed against the wall like he’d seen people do in movies. He came to Christian’s quarters and tried the knob, but the door was locked. After a moment’s thought, he decided to try the basement, because it seemed like a good place to hide something.

Maybe I’ll even find John’s magic bag.
That would be cool. John would be super proud of him.

Going into the basement didn’t worry Mitch; he’d been down there plenty of times before Christian came to town. His lack of concern, together with his preoccupation with finding John’s bag, led to his not realizing the basement lights were on until he was halfway down the stairs.

By then it was too late.

Mitch froze as he saw Billy Ray standing by an open closet. Billy Ray was just as surprised, but recovered faster.

“What the fuck are you doing down here, kid?”

“Um, I...I...” Mitch struggled to think of something, anything, that would keep him alive long enough to get away. Billy Ray’s eyes narrowed, and Mitch imagined the man getting ready to pull a knife and gut him where he stood.

Then he spotted something on a nearby shelf.

“I just came for this.” Mitch grabbed the bible and held it up. “I left it here a few days ago.” Praying Billy Ray didn’t ask him to prove it was his, he clutched it to his chest.

A strange look passed across Billy Ray’s face. Fear? Relief? Mitch couldn’t tell.

“Well, then take it and get the hell out of here before I throw you out.”

Without saying anything, Mitch turned and ran up the stairs, his feet pounding on the wooden steps. Then he was down the hall and out the back door as fast as his legs could carry him. He reached the parking lot just as Danni’s Mustang screeched to a halt.

“Get in!” she shouted, and Mitch wasted no time doing as she said. He was still struggling into his seat belt when she hit the gas and roared across the lot toward State Street.

“What were you doing there?” Mitch asked, as he buckled himself in and then grabbed the door handle when Danni slewed the car around the corner onto Main Street.

“John called. He said Billy Ray was heading back to the church.”

“I know. I saw him.”

Danni’s hands jerked and the car swerved. “What? He was there? Did he see you?”

“Yeah.” Mitch tried to keep his voice casual. “He yelled at me to get out of the basement.”

“The basement? What the hell were you doing down there?”

Aware he’d just put his foot into his mouth, Mitch tried to change the subject.

“Wait ‘til you see what I got in Christian’s office,” Mitch said, hoping to distract his sister.

“I don’t care if you found a magic monkey who can end all our problems by snapping his fingers. You’re in big trouble when we get home.”

Mitch hunkered back into his seat and made sure to project an appropriate air of guilt, but inside he smiled. He knew Danni well enough to recognize her tone. Her anger was mostly for show, and by the time they got home, she’d be so eager to see what he’d taken that she’d let him off with nothing more than a stern lecture.

His relief turned to concern when John’s voice crackled over the radio.

“Danni? Is Mitch okay?”

“Yes. Where are you?”

“The cemetery. Come quick. I need help.”

“We’re coming.” She swung the Mustang around in a U-turn. Mitch’s stomach rolled with the car’s motion.

What if something bad had happened to John?

*   *   *

Billy Ray leaned against the closet door and fought to control the tremors racing through his body. The fucking kid had been
right there
, in the basement, while Billy had his hands on the church funds. Had he seen what was in the boxes and jars stacked on the shelves?

I should’ve killed him. Ran after him and beat him to death, then dumped the body. With everything going on in this town, no one would even raise a stink about one more corpse.

Not that he expected the kid to go running to Christian. Odds were he was snooping around the church for that John Root fellow. So Billy Ray felt reasonably certain his secret was safe, for now. But what if the kid told someone else? And that person told Christian? Secrets traveled fast in small towns.

What the hell do I do?

Billy Ray slammed the door shut. If he told Christian about the kid, he’d be opening himself up to questions he couldn’t answer, like why he’d been in the church basement instead of at the park. The excuse of needing something to drink wouldn’t cut it, not with someone like Christian who could peel back lies and see the truth underneath.

However, if he said nothing, and Christian found out the kid had been in the church and Billy Ray knew about it...

I’m fucked.

He slammed the door again, then kicked his bed over.

I won’t tell. Better to take my chances on Christian not finding out until later. Hell, maybe he’ll never find out.

Billy Ray fixed his bed and headed back outside. He needed to get back to the park before Christian’s meeting ended. As he stepped out into the heat, he shivered as a new feeling took root inside him, one he felt sure many a convict on death row knew all too well.

The dread of knowing your days were numbered.

Cyrus Christian found himself glancing over his shoulder for the third time in as many minutes, sure that someone was standing behind him in the hallway.

“Is something wrong, Reverend? You seem...preoccupied today.” Mrs. Greenfield, the PTA President, gave him a quizzical look through her old-fashioned cat’s-eye glasses.

Preoccupied didn’t begin to cover how Christian felt. He’d been on edge since the moment he entered the school, convinced someone was watching him. Several times he’d looked out the windows of the classroom they’d set up for the meeting, but the only cars in the parking lot were those of the attendees. Had he been alone, he could have extended his senses outward, searched the surrounding area. But that required his full attention. Going into a trance in the middle of the meeting simply wasn’t an option. Not when several members of the PTA council and city business association still considered him nothing more than a small town pastor.

“I’m fine, Mrs. Greenfield,” he said to the fashionably-thin woman. “There are several things that require my attention, and sometimes I find my thoughts get ahead me.”

She laughed and placed a hand on his arm, a gesture he recognized as flirtatious rather than just friendly. Christian was well aware of Emma Greenfield’s reputation in town; young, pretty, and married to a man who spent a good deal of time traveling on business. She had money and time to burn, and entertained herself by volunteering for various community organizations. She also had a habit of volunteering her personal services in other ways, in the bedrooms and offices of well-to-do men.

Had the body he inhabited still retained any of its sexual drives, Christian might have been tempted to take the woman up on her implied offer. Instead, he made a mental note to provide her with a more permanent solution to her urges.

“Well, Mrs. Greenfield, I must be going,” he said, gently patting her hand before moving away. “But I’ll be thinking of you later, you can be sure of that.”

The hungry look in her eyes, together with the way she gave her lips a quick lick, told him he’d planted just the right seed, that she’d spend the rest of the day thinking he’d be calling her to arrange a rendezvous that night.

And I will, too. Just not the kind you imagine.

Outside, he stood by his car and slowly scanned the entire parking lot, turning around until he’d completed a full circle. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary; in fact, the sensation of other eyes watching him no longer perched on his shoulders like an invisible vulture.

So why did he still have the feeling something wasn’t right?

Only one way to find out for sure.

Christian got into his car and shut the door, oblivious to the oven-like heat. Closing his eyes, he let his consciousness extend outwards, expanding across the school yard and even farther, down the surrounding streets and over the buildings, parks, and river, an all-seeing eye that took in everything happening in his vicinity.

Alone in a bathroom, Emma Greenfield already had her hands up her summer dress and a look of orgasmic pleasure on her face.

Two streets over, an out-of-work electrician kicked the family cat down a flight of stairs.

On Main Street, an old woman walked barefoot across the road, her feet blistered and bleeding, her gaze as empty as what was left of her mind.

At Riverside Park, Billy Ray Capshaw paused and wiped the sweat from his forehead before measuring another plot for a booth.

Christian opened his eyes. Nothing within five miles to explain the anxiety he felt. To look farther, he’d need to go back to his office and cast a spell.

Perhaps it’s just knowing John Root is back in town.
The man was proving to be a real thorn in Christian’s side, but Christian was loathe to expend his energy on an all-out attack.

He’ll come after me in his own time, and when he does, I’ll be ready for him, just like I was ready for his bitch mother.

Christian started the car. Time to get back to work. He had a surprise to prepare for Emma Greenfield.

*   *   *

John gritted his teeth as Danni wiped an alcohol-soaked cloth across the claw marks on his legs. Similar scratches decorated his arms and chest, long, red welts that blended in well with the gouges from the barbed wire he’d slid through to escape the pack of feral dogs.

“You’re lucky you didn’t get bit,” Danni said, handing the soiled cloth to Mitch. She went to open a tube of antibiotic ointment, but John held up his hand.