The Faithful (34 page)

CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

Sumner helped guide Ora to the Suburban, trying his best not to think about the fact that she was wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt.

They limped along behind Lexy, Phoenix, and Ashlyn. The girl had proved to be much more handy than a garden hose, and clearly expected them to take her with them in return for her help. She wasn’t letting Phoenix out of her sight for a second.

It seemed to take forever to make it the half mile. By the time they saw the black gleam of the Suburban’s roof, whatever adrenaline had been pumping through Sumner’s veins was gone, leaving him shivering and queasy. He bent over and closed his eyes, swallowing hard against a black wave of nausea.

“Come on, Sumner.” Phoenix clapped him on the back. “The day’s not over yet.”

Sumner shook his head, trying to clear it, and moved to the cargo area. He rummaged through the duffel bags until he found Ryanne’s clothing, and handed Ora a pair of jeans and a pink hooded sweatshirt. She took them gratefully, although both were several sizes too small.

“Any socks in there?” she asked hopefully, and Sumner hunted around until he found some. He grabbed Josh’s sweatshirt for himself.

Phoenix helped him hoist up the third-row seat, and Sumner sent up a silent thank-you to the designers at Chevrolet for making a truck that could seat nine. They were going to need it. He hoped.

Sumner climbed into the driver’s seat. Josh had left the keys in the ignition. The Suburban’s engine roared to life and he winced, hoping it hadn’t attracted unwanted attention. The others piled in.

“Where to, folks?”

“North,” Lexy said promptly. “Get as close to the cliff as possible.”

Sumner put the car in gear and rolled across the forest floor, using the moonlight as his guide. He almost ran over the crimson-robed figure who stepped out in front of them. Sumner jammed on the brakes and the rest joined him in a communal scream.

The Suburban came to rest several feet away, and the man pulled the hood off his head. It was Father Narda. His gaze met Sumner’s through the windshield.

“Shit!” Ora spat. “Run that son of a bitch over!”

“Hell with that,” Lexy chimed in. “Sumner, give me your gun. I’m going to shoot him in the balls!”

“Ladies, please,” Sumner said with surprising calm. He was locked in his former mentor’s gaze, and couldn’t turn away. He shut off the engine and opened the door.

“Bad idea, my friend,” Phoenix warned. “Get close to him and he’ll rip your heart right out of your ass.”

“No. He won’t.”

“Sumner!” Ora called, but Sumner was already out of the car.

“Father,” he said.

“Hello, Sumner.”

Sumner’s heart lurched, and acid seared his throat with bitter fire. It was too much to bear, and his voice shook. “I see you still have quite the way with the ladies.”

“I’m a Priest.”

“In other words, you can do whatever you want. It’s in the covenant you made.”

Father Narda shrugged.

“You bastard! I loved her. And you
knew
it!”

“Yes. I knew you loved Adelia,” Narda said, unapologetic.

“Your selfishness killed her!”

“I understand how you could see it that way.”

“And now . . .
Lexy
! How could you?”

“I did it for the greater good. To plant the seed. You know this, Sumner.”

“The same way you
planted a seed
in Adelia?” Sumner spat.

“She produced two beautiful,
faithful
girls.”

“That’s all she was to you? She was just an . . .
incubator
?”

“A very enjoyable one.”

“You fucking bastard.” The gun found its way into his hand. He aimed it at the Father’s head.

“In the
balls
, Sumner!” Lexy screeched from the Suburban.

Father Narda watched him, his brows lifted in curiosity. “Could you shoot me?”

“You better believe I could,” Sumner said.

Father Narda looked at him gravely. “You’ve done significant damage, my son. I should terminate you for your disobedience, but I won’t. You’re free to go. I won’t stand in your way.”

“What? Why?”

“As horrible as you think I am, well, by your standards I’m probably worse. But I
do
love my daughter.”

“You have a messed-up way of showing it.”

The Father lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Perhaps. But I don’t want my daughter to die. I am grateful to you for saving her life, and in return I will spare you yours, on one condition: you must keep Lexine and Ora safe.”

“Are you shitting me right now?”

“One learns such foul language on the Outside. No, I’m not
shitting
you. My daughter may hate me right now, but someday she will realize I gave her a gift.”

“What?”

Father Narda smiled. “The seed has been planted. Within the womb of her lover grows a baby of Ora’s lineage. I gave Lexine the one thing my daughter couldn’t. I gave them a new life!”

“You . . . sick . . .
bastard
.”

“Yes, yes. All that and more, I’m sure. Will you do it, Sumner? Will you protect them?”

“From what!”

“Since they won’t be safe on The Ranch, you need to pick your location very, very carefully. Do you get my meaning?”

“Shit,” Sumner grumbled.

“Do you get my meaning, Sumner?
Day Zero is upon us.
I want my daughter, and my unborn child, to be safe. Will you do it?”

“Oh, hell! Of course I will, you bastard! But how am I supposed to protect them when I don’t know what the hell I’m protecting them from!”

“Keep to the center of the country, away from the big cities. Stockpile enough supplies to last at least a year. Buy air purifiers and a generator to run them. Tape up doors and windows. You won’t want to go outside for a while.”

“What the hell are you guys planning?” Sumner asked in horror.

“I’ve already said too much.”

“We’re going to stop it, whatever it is,” Sumner vowed.

“No.” Father Narda shook his head. “You’re not. It’s too late to stop it. All you can do is save the lives of those closest to you.” And with that, Father Narda turned and disappeared into the forest.

“Perhaps we’ll meet again, someday.” His voice floated back to Sumner on the cold wind and wrapped icy tentacles around his heart.

“In the New World we have created.”

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

“Your guns are of no use, Agent Metcalf.” Father Barnabas was smiling, but his smile was more of a grotesque leer.

I was pretty sure I had wet myself when he appeared in the doorway, but would deal with the embarrassment of that later. If there was a later. It seemed unlikely, given the circumstances.

Josh tried anyway, squeezing the trigger with practiced ease. Nothing happened. He pulled out the gun Sheriff Lagrudo had given him, but it wouldn’t fire, either. “Well, that sucks.”

“Shall we get down to business?”

“I’d rather not,” I managed.

“I’m afraid it’s unavoidable, dear,” he said. “Although why you decided to throw away your life to save this boy, I just can’t fathom. What’s so special about him?” He moved in on me solicitously. Although he had asked quite casually, I sensed the depth of his interest and alarm bells started going off in my head.

“You don’t know?” I asked with as much confidence as I could muster. If by some miracle he had a blind spot when it came to Jack, I didn’t want to tip him off. “Guess whoever’s in charge of doing the research on these kids missed a few things.”

I must have blinked at the wrong moment and missed his approach. One moment Father Barnabas was by the dresser, and the next he had me by the throat. His icy claw was choking off my windpipe and my feet were dangling.

“Don’t play smart with me, girl. I’m in no mood!”

“Let her go!” Josh bellowed, throwing himself at us. Father Barnabas raised a casual hand in his direction, and Josh went flying backward. He crashed into the night table and knocked the lamp over with a clang of metal.

“Why is this boy so important?”
His eyes were red and his breath smelled of rot. I opened my mouth, but nothing would come out. Black roses bloomed in front of my eyes.

Just as quickly as he had grabbed me, he let me go. I stumbled away from him, wheezing and grabbing at my throat. The skin he had touched felt frozen. He pinned me against the wall. His eyes were black.

“Why?”

“He’s . . . Josh’s . . . nephew,” I managed, desperately hoping he wouldn’t see through the lie. Well, hell, he was going to kill us no matter what, so how much worse could it get?

He examined me for so long I was ready to scream and tear at my skin, if it would allow me to escape my body and get away from those eyes.

Josh was trying to get up, but without lifting a finger, Father Barnabas had him pinned against the night table. “He’s my sister’s son. She passed away last year, and I’ve been keeping a close eye on him ever since.”

“How . . .
ironic
.” With those beady black eyes he reminded me of a vulture examining his prey just before pecking out the juicy heart. “You can see why I can’t allow any of you to live, hmm?” He leaned in like a lover and traced one sharp fingernail down my cheek and along my collarbone, searing an icy path across my skin. I couldn’t help the whimper that escaped my lips.

“It’s a shame you won’t be able to enjoy the fruits of your labor, but that was the choice you made.” His lips were mere inches from mine. I could taste the black decay of his breath, and my stomach churned violently. “I’ll give you another choice,” he whispered. “Who dies first?”

“No . . .” I pleaded.

He nuzzled my neck, and my skin blistered where his lips and tongue grazed me. His teeth were daggers tracing their way up my neck. “Will you choose to go first, so you don’t see them suffer?” he murmured, breath hot on my skin. “Or will you watch them die for your betrayal?”

“No . . .” I pulled away from him, stumbling, and he shoved me to the floor. A moment later he was on top of me. He smothered my mouth with his own, and his thick, maggoty tongue jabbed into my throat. I gagged, stomach heaving against his attack.

“Leave her alone!” Josh bellowed. I could see him struggling to get to us, but he was pinned.

“Mmm. Delicious.” He pulled back and murmured against my lips. “I’ve always had a thing for redheads. They’re so . . .
fiery
.”

Father Barnabas tugged at my jeans, and I could feel his hardness pressing against my leg. I wailed in protest, struggling to get away. But my fear clearly aroused him, and he groaned with pleasure and redoubled his effort.

Pushing up my shirt, he tore at the Kevlar vest. My bra was ripped aside, his hands scorching my bare skin. He kneaded my breast and pinched my nipples, sending shock waves of pain through me. I screamed, which made him moan. His hips thrust forward convulsively.

“I said leave her alone!” Josh roared.

“Should we let him watch, my dear?” His voice was ragged with arousal.

“Please,
don’t
,” I sobbed.

My pants came free, and the cold air lapped at my exposed skin. He pushed my legs apart and rubbed an icy finger over my tender skin, pinching and hurting. I bellowed.

“Don’t you dare!” Josh raged. The veins in his neck were popping and his skin was an apoplectic purple. But it did no good; he was as effectively trapped as a bug in a glass.

Father Barnabas smirked at him. He pulled his robe aside and moved over me, pressing me down with a satisfied grunt. I closed my eyes and prepared for the assault, wishing Josh would turn aside.

“Shedim!”

He froze above me.

The boy was standing on the bed, his hands splayed in front of him. His eyes were rolled back in his head, revealing only the whites, but they were focused directly on the Priest.

Father Barnabas howled, pulling back from me. I scuttled away and pressed against the wall, yanking at my clothes.

“Shedim!”
Jack said again, and his voice was as pure and clean as the ringing of a bell.

“They mingled with the nations and learned their deeds. They shed innocent blood and the land became polluted. And they became unclean through their deeds and went astray!”

“Who . . .
are
you?” Father Barnabas gasped.

“I am Jack, son of Emma. I am a mere boy.”
He climbed down from the bed and moved toward us. Father Barnabas shrank back against the dresser.

“I am of the Sabaoth. A warrior for the White. You! Watcher, Daemon, Vile Being! You shall be cast aside, forever to wander the underworld in torment!”

Father Barnabas laughed. It started out as a chuckle, and then it turned into a cackle which morphed into a screech that hammered at my brain. I covered my ears, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Josh doing the same.

The boy seemed unfazed. He moved in on the Priest, reaching out for him with his bruised hands. Father Barnabas tried to move away, but he had nowhere to go.

Jack Barbetti’s hands cupped the Priest’s cheeks, as gently as a parent would touch their child, and the Priest stopped screeching. The silence that descended was so abrupt I wondered if my eardrums had burst.

I don’t know what I was expecting. Perhaps that Father Barnabas would disappear in a puff of smoke. Or maybe that he would melt to the ground like the Wicked Witch in
The Wizard of Oz
, leaving his crimson robe in a steaming pile on the floor. Neither happened.

A trickle of blood escaped his right nostril and his eyes rolled back in his head. Jack set him down carefully, cradling his head and laying it gently against the floor.

He turned toward me. I have to admit, I flinched; those white eyes were creepy. He climbed into my lap and wrapped his arms around my neck, burying his face against my shoulder. After a moment my arms found their way around him. I could feel each of his ribs and the small, hard nubs of his spine.

“I want my mommy,” he said. And then he wept.