Fear the Wicked (Illusions Series Book 2)(53)
Nodding his head one more time, Richard stuffed his thick hands into the pockets of his pants. “No problem.”
“I also came out to tell you that we’ll have some special guests tonight. You remember Gentry. He brought his brother by the parish today and the overly excited sheriff decided it would be in our best interests if we remove the demons from the criminals he arrests.”
Richard’s head snapped up, a slimy smile stretching his face. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
Laughter shook my shoulders. “I believe so. It seems the sheriff wants to eradicate the evil that is infecting this town, and based on his brother’s account of the possessed man we showed him a week ago, he wants to destroy other demons he believes are in our midst.” More laughter fell over my lips. “For fucks sake, it’s better than I could have imagined. I was hoping to get the sheriff to turn a blind eye, but instead the son of a bitch wants to lead the condemned bastards to our door.”
Richard’s laughter joined with mine, the deep reverberation echoing through the woods. A flock of birds scattered from the branches above our heads, the leaves rustling in response to their hasty departure.
Fucking birds. If they’re not shitting on your head, they’re finding another way to annoy the fuck out of you.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Richard spoke around his continued laughter. “This will be more fun that I thought. Once we have this entire town in a state of chaos, we can do whatever the fuck we want.”
Inclining my head in agreement, I mentioned, “Yes. I’m sure there will be fun to be had. You can gorge yourself on all the fucking and violence you want. In the meantime, I have a show to put on and will be playing the part of the priest. Do you think you can handle keeping the more sensitive members of the family away from the sanctuary this evening?”
“That won’t be a problem,” he promised, his smile growing wider until he resembled a cat peering down at its next frightened meal.
“That’s good to hear, Richard. Once you have them settled in for the night, you can join us in the sanctuary later. Sheriff Holmes told me he’d be by around ten tonight. That gives us plenty of time to prepare for the festivities.”
“You got it, Boss,” Richard called out as he moved around me in the direction of the cabin.
Turning as he passed, I shook my head knowing that before he went to tend to the flock, he would let the girl know the good news that he would be keeping her for a while longer.
Before he could shut the door, however, I felt it necessary to warn him. “Oh, and Richard, I’m sure this goes without saying, but don’t trust the little bitch you have in there. I want her bound and chained when you’re not around to keep an eye on her. She’s planning on escaping.”
He laughed. “Don’t you think I already know that? It’s more fun when they think they have a chance.”
With that, he opened the door and stepped through, closing it again until I was staring at the scarred wood.
I simply turned around to return to the compound and feed the dying girl in my bed.
JACOB
After leaving the parish, I paced the city streets, weaving and winding down the numbered avenues, avoiding the people that walked beside me. While they rushed off to whatever job, doctor appointment, lunch meeting or other obligation they were headed to, I found myself stuck inside my own thoughts, growing angrier with each hour that passed.
I was stuck between a rock and a hard place, wanting on one hand to feel sorry for my brother, while on the other I wanted nothing more than to stop the bastard in his tracks, to expose him and destroy him much like he’d attempted to do to me.
Guilt flooded me for not protecting him more when we’d been children, but I eased the pain of it by reminding myself I hadn’t known what the priest and music director had done. Never as faithful as my brother had been, I avoided the choir and the Christmas plays the parish put on. I never had much of an opportunity to know the music director, and I’d hated the priest. He was an old man with slimy eyes, the type that made my skin crawl every time he came near. When I was young, I’d believed it was because I was angry with God, and thus angry with what the priest represented. But now, thinking about it as I continued walking at a clipped pace, I realized that I’d somehow instinctively known that the man was a monster hidden behind his black clothes and crisp white clerical collar.
How I had picked up on that and Jericho hadn’t, I wasn’t sure. Perhaps darkness calls to darkness, and thus I’d recognized it instantly in the priest. As children, Jericho had wanted to believe good existed in the world. He’d wanted to worship God and be a good boy just so he could earn our abusive father’s love. That desperation to please was what trapped him in its iron grip, it’s what destroyed him as all the people he’d wanted to love him had let him down, one by one.
I was just another name on that list and perhaps he’d played his games against me to get even. But now that I knew he was now pretending to be me, I understood that his games had a deeper purpose.
What could be gained from pretending to be a priest? The question hadn’t bounced around in my head for longer than a second before the answer shot up to slap me in the face.
Was Jericho getting even for the abuse he suffered? Was he preying on the faithful to cope with having been preyed on himself?