The Last Harvest(30)

As we walk down the center aisle toward the priests, I try to match my heartbeat to the steady sound of Miss Granger’s heels clacking against the marble floor, but the closer we get, the quicker her footsteps become.

She’s nervous, too.

“May I present Cardinal Machiovini and Archbishop Antonia.”

Their names and titles all blend together in my head.

“Hey, I’m Clay Tate.” I stretch my hand forward to greet them, but they don’t move a muscle. They just stare down at me from the altar like I’m some kind of disease.

They’re all decked out with massive rings on their fingers and heavy gold crosses around their necks—they’ve got more bling than any rapper I’ve ever seen. Reverend Devers, over at Midland Baptist, he always wears the same suits he got from Sears twenty years ago. The only jewelry he owns is the tarnished wedding band he still wears, even though his wife took off with an oil rigger a couple of years back.

Miss Granger stands up even straighter than usual. “As we’ve discussed, I believe Clay is a prophet. He had a vision of the golden calf. It appeared to him, freshly slaughtered, and then disappeared. He’s also had a vision of the rebirth ceremony of the dead.”

The priests begin to whisper in another language … Latin maybe.

“What’s going on?” I sidle next to her.

“They’re deciding how to proceed.”

“Don’t forget the cat,” I add.

Miss Granger shakes me off. “I believe he’s one of the six, but he’s been able to resist. He’s special.”

The priests continue to talk among themselves like I’m not even in the room. Their voices become more agitated with each pointed stare.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” I ask.

Her brow furrows. “They think it’s too risky.”

“Couldn’t agree more.”

Miss Granger shakes her head. “Not too risky for you … for us.”

The priest with the tallest hat says something final sounding and they turn their backs on us.

“I’m willing to stake my career on this.” Miss Granger steps forward.

The priests turn, eyes searching.

“He’s the one.” Miss Granger holds her ground. “He can save them all. We have a unique opportunity to study them from the inside. Clay can help us get the proof we need to sanction the exorcism before a single life has been taken.”

This seems to get their attention.

The priest with the reddish beard looks at me, and it’s like he’s staring straight into my soul. “Tu autem casus?”

“What?” I ask. I have no clue what he’s talking about, but he’s making me seriously uncomfortable. I look to Miss Granger for help.

“He’s asking if you’ve been chaste.” A deep blush creeps up over her collar. “If you’ve…”

“What … if I’ve had sex?” I drag my hands through my hair. “What does that have to do with anything?” They just stare at me stone-faced. “Wow … okay … that’s really personal, but no.”

As the priests begin to confer again, my eyes veer toward the exit. I had the same feeling in Miss Granger’s bedroom surrounded by all those crucifixes. I just want to get out of here.

They finally say something to Miss Granger. She nods, shooting me a tight smile.

“What’s happening?”

“They’ve agreed to baptize you.”

“I’m already baptized. They did it when I was a baby … in the river.”

“The Catholic Church doesn’t recognize a Presbyterian baptism.”

“I’m not a Presbyterian. I’m a Baptist.”

“In the eyes of the Catholic Church, it’s the same thing,” she says.

The priests crowd around what looks like a birdbath, murmuring some kind of prayer.

“I don’t know about this.”

“Clay, please.” Miss Granger looks up at me. “It won’t take long.” She presses a robe into my hands and leads me to a flimsy screen on the left side of the altar.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I say as I duck behind the screen and take off my shirt and pants. I put on the robe. It’s not soft like those ones you see in fancy hotel commercials. It’s thin and scratchy and smells weird.

I step out from behind the screen. Miss Granger blocks my path. “Socks and underwear, too.”

“Seriously?”

She looks at me pleadingly. “Ali needs you … I need you.”

With a deep sigh, I maneuver out of my boxers from under the robe and pull off my socks.

She brings me to the center of the cathedral, where the light’s streaming in through the stained glass.

The priests step down from the altar, carrying small silver bowls, forming a circle around me.

“Time to disrobe,” Miss Granger says.

“What? No way.” I cross my arms across my chest awkwardly.

“Clay, they have to check you first … make sure you don’t bear the mark.”

“Well, I can assure you I don’t have it. I take a shower every day … sometimes twice a day—”

“I believe you, but it’s the only way.” Miss Granger places her hand on my arm. “Keep your eyes closed if that helps. Think pleasant thoughts. I won’t let anything happen to you.”