Fear the Wicked (Illusions Series Book 2)(28)

The family stared back, their gazes focused and intent, their ears ready to hear what I had to offer them, their hearts open for the promise of the coming of God's sword. I was only too happy to oblige them.

"It fills my heart with hope to see you all sitting here tonight. It's been too long since we've gathered, since we've taken the opportunity to come together in the name of the Almighty and determine how we can make ourselves fit for His purpose - for His army."

A few low murmurs broke out, my family bowing their heads to humble themselves before their God, others folding their hands together in reverent prayer. Candlelight flickered, creating a myriad of dancing shadows throughout the room, the swirling smoke of incense adding to the effect.

While I'd been a true believer in my youth, while I'd given up every part of my body, heart and soul to a God who sat laughing in his heavenly throne, I'd learned what it took to lead a congregation, what it took to lead a man to the belief that something existed beyond this world.

It wasn't always the meaning of the words spoken, the threats and warnings, the guilt that was heaped upon us until we lay crushed; sometimes it was something as simple as the inflection of the voice, the deep booming tones, the haunting whispers that teased a man's mind with truth.

Music had the same effect for many. It could draw goosebumps from the skin, tears from the eyes, and elation from the heart. And having been one of the Good Lord's small songbirds, having been a part of his choir, I'd crafted my voice through the years to lure the weary into my fold, to make them believe that safety and serenity could be found in the message I delivered to them.

I was using that voice now to soothe them, but soon I would set their hearts aflame, would rouse them until they would commit the greatest of sins in the misguided belief they did it for God's cause.

If my childhood parish had given me anything, it was the knowledge of how to use my voice, as well as the drive for revenge that fueled me.

Forcing those thoughts from my mind, I focused on the message I was giving my family. What I wanted in the end wasn't nearly as important as the path I took to get there.

"Our mission has never been more urgent than it is now. In the last month alone, I've run across all sorts of evil. The demons are encroaching. They're invading our lives through our family and friends. Our neighbors and business associates. They're hiding in plain sight, spreading their wickedness through lust and anger, through greed and lies."

Pausing, I gave them a moment to think about my words, to consider where they may have seen examples of what I was describing. My family members wouldn't have had too much experience with the outside community, but Gentry would have, and it was his mind I wanted to bend more than the others.

"I'm sure all of you can give me examples of what you've seen. Just as I'm sure none of you can deny the truth of my words."

They nodded their heads in unison, their hands still folded in prayer. I looked over the faces that had surrounded me for many years, the weary expressions they now had to learn their fears the world was more infected were true. What I said was gospel to all of them, everything illusion until I ripped off the veil to reveal the truth.

I'd just confirmed their greatest fear, and now I was ready to ease them into compliance before pushing them to extremes.

"What can be done about this?" I asked, posing the question and letting the silence fall again to give them time to come to their own conclusions. Never forceful, I liked to dance around the answers, liked to let them think they found the solutions I'd led them to on their own.

"We fight it," one brave family member said, his deep voice resonating against the ceiling and walls of the sanctuary. Silence beat its lonely rhythm before the rest of the family broke it with their agreement. One after the other, their resilient faces heated with the resolve of soldiers.

I knew every one of them as well as they could be known. I'd gathered them from all walks of life and from all four corners of the United States. Some were wanderers, lost vagabonds who sought comfort and inclusion in some place other than the streets. Others were victims of some horrible tragedy, weak and desperate to know that what happened to them hadn't been the result of their decisions or mistakes. Some had been struggling through life barely making ends meet, while a rare few had been successful, but still searching for that hidden piece that would make their personal puzzle whole.

For each one, I'd had an answer to their greatest question, and it had been easy to lure them into my grasp. After years of preaching to them and living with them, I had every single one truly believing I could lead them to the light.

It was too bad there was no light to be found in my darkness, there was no truth to be found in my promises. I was more deceitful than the Devil himself, more convincing than the holy-roller evangelical preachers who'd become wealthy in their wicked games.

Rolling back my shoulders, I stared out of a mass of bodies who would commit evil in my name. Without them I couldn't accomplish what I'd set out to accomplish, and I should have appreciated them for their loyalty, but I couldn't. It was the same bullshit fealty I'd paid to my parish as a kid, the same bullshit faith that led me to a life of torture and pain.

Seeing the heat rolling behind their eyes, the dedication to my cause, I decided now would be a good time to pull Gentry even further into my web. He was a good man, a good Catholic, and it would take blending the two worlds together to bring him around, to convince him what we were doing was sane. Chancing a glance at him, I saw that his eyes had widened, that his pupils filled and darkened what should have been the light color of his eyes. The drug was taking its effect. It was time to lead him closer.