Apocalypse Cult (Gray Spear Society) (5 page)

Victor drove along a dirt path that barely qualified as a road, but his skillful handling kept the van from getting stuck. Eventually, they reached a real highway and headed towards Chicago.

When he grew restless, Aaron looked at Marina and said, "Hi."

She ignored him.

"I noticed your black fingernails," he said. "I think a different color might look better on you. Red would match your hair and green would match your eyes. Is there a reason you make them so pointed?"

She turned and glared at him. "Shh. We're not allowed to talk about anything."

"Everything about you is a secret?"

"Absolutely."

Nobody else seemed in the mood for conversation either, so Aaron sat back. The only sounds were road noise and the air conditioner.

It was a long journey home, but he was getting paid for his time, so it didn't bother him. He kept looking at Marina because her beauty made it impossible for him to ignore her. He really wanted to talk to her, and the unbroken silence between them was frustrating. Her expression was unreadable.

The van stopped in front of Brittany's home. After he and Brittany were let out, Aaron turned to say goodbye to his new acquaintances. Victor drove off before Aaron had a chance to speak.

That was rude,
Aaron thought. He wondered if he would ever see them again. Of course, the person he was really interested in seeing was Marina. Unfortunately, he had no way of finding her. He would have to hope she found him instead.

He held Brittany firmly by the shoulders and marched her to the house. Weeds sprouted between cracks in the narrow sidewalk. Even before he reached the door, Caroline Waters came running out, squealing with joy. She wore a dirty apron over a dress printed with yellow petunias.

Caroline grabbed her daughter and hugged her very tightly for a full minute. Brittany did not return the affection and just stood stiffly with her lips curled in disgust.

Frank Waters walked out of the house wearing shorts and a white T-shirt. "Mr. Glade! You're back so soon! You're a real hero." Frank shook Aaron's hand vigorously. "How did you do it?"

For several good reasons Aaron didn't want to answer that question, so he said, "Trade secret, but your daughter is safe now, so the 'how' doesn't matter."

"You're right."

Caroline finally released Brittany, and Frank took his turn with her. He frowned as he ran his finger along the tattoos around her eyes and touched her bony cheeks.

"There are some things you need to know," Aaron said. "Brittany is not the daughter you knew. The cult changed her. I've seen cases like this before, and you'll need to watch her
all
the time. She may try to hurt herself or you. She
will
try to run away and return to the cult. I hate to suggest tying her up, but you'll have to figure out some way to confine her."

"Will she get better?" Frank said.

"With professional help. Find a therapist who specializes in de-programming teenagers, and do it quick."

"Yes, we'll do that. Thank you."

Caroline took Brittany into the house.

"Be careful!" Aaron said. "Watch her!"

Frank stayed with him. "About your fee..."

Here it comes
, Aaron thought.

"Two days of your time..."

"Closer to three. We'll split the difference and call it 20 hours. With expenses, the total is 1,500 dollars."

Frank grimaced. "We don't have that much in our checking account."

Aaron clenched his jaw. Apparently, being a real hero did not imply he would get paid. "I'll send you a bill. It's not so much money compared to how much your daughter's life is worth. Can you just pay it, please?"

"Sure, somehow."

"And pay for a cab, too, so I can go home. That is non-negotiable."

Chapter Four

The smell of fresh brewed coffee woke Aaron in the morning, which was very surprising because he lived alone in his downtown Chicago loft. The last person to make him coffee had been his wife, now ex-wife, when he had led a very different life.

Instead of jumping out of bed, he kept his eyes closed and listened. He heard the squeak of a drawer sliding on metal rails. There was a soft slurping noise, suggesting the intruder was drinking the coffee. Papers rustled.
My files
, Aaron thought. His home also served as the office for his private detective agency, and he kept his case files here.

Aaron rolled over silently, opened the drawer of his night-stand, and took out a snub-nosed revolver. He confirmed it was loaded.

He slept in the nude, but there was nothing he could do about that right now. Putting on clothes would make noise. The loft was a single large room separated by wooden partitions into functional areas. The intruder would hear even the smallest sound.

Aaron peeked around a partition with his gun ready.

"Ethel!" he said. "What the hell?"

The mysterious woman was sitting at his desk, leaning back with her feet up as if she owned the place. She smiled at him. "Get dressed. I brought Danishes and fresh brewed coffee."

"You broke into my home! I'm calling the cops."

"Relax. I just want to talk."

He pointed the revolver at a pile of folders in front of her, his case files. "Those are confidential."

"I'm very good at keeping secrets."

"That's not my point," he said with a snarl. "I have an obligation to my clients."

"I need to know how skilled a detective you are." She held up one of the files. "These are more informative than any resumé you could give me."

He fumed, indecisive about what to do. He couldn't just shoot her, and physically confronting her didn't seem wise. His head still hurt from being rammed into the van yesterday. He decided to let her talk to him. He got dressed but kept his revolver under his shirt.

A little calmer now, he walked through his loft and stood behind her. "Well? What's your verdict?"

"You're a perceptive and thorough investigator," she said, "but far too cynical."

He grunted.

She wore a tailored gray business suit that made her appear sophisticated. He couldn't tell if she carried any concealed weapons. Her soft flat shoes didn't match the formality of the rest of her outfit.

The coffee smelled wonderful, and its aroma drew him to the small area that served as his kitchen. He had a single counter with a steel sink. There were cabinets beneath, but they only held four plates and two pots. When at home, his diet could be summarized as "packaged, frozen, and microwavable."

A full cup was waiting for him, and when he took a sip, the flavor made him sigh with pleasure. The coffee was the best he had tasted in a long while. He grabbed a strawberry Danish and took a big bite.

"Great Danish," he said around a delicious mouthful. He had to admit that for an intruder, she was very gracious.

She stood up and walked over to a wall where pictures were hung. "Your parents?" She pointed at one photo in particular.

"That's right. They live in the suburbs, but I bet you know that."

"Yes." She turned her attention to a picture of Aaron in a police uniform with several other officers.

"That was taken when I graduated from the police academy," he said.

"Do you still keep in touch with your old buddies?"

"We drink beers. Not often. Is that really what you came to talk about?"

Ethel studied the pictures without responding.

Aaron went over to his front door and checked for signs of forced entry. He was sure he had locked it last night, but he found no scratches or other marks.

"Why didn't you just knock instead of picking the lock?" he said. "I would've invited you in."

"You were asleep. I didn't want to wake you. I was being polite."

"Breaking into a man's home while he is asleep is not my idea of polite."

She shrugged.

"What do you want?" he said.

"I want to add you to my team. We have an opening. But first I need to know a little more about you."

He raised his eyebrows. "This is a job interview?"

"I guess you could call it that."

"I don't need a new job. I'm doing fine. I have plenty of money." The lie sounded weak even to himself.

"Let's just skip the posturing and get to the interview. Sit, please."

He hesitated.

"I asked you
nicely
to sit down," she said. Her tone implied the next time she made the request, she would be less kind about it.

They sat across from each other at the small round table where Aaron ate his lonely meals. He wished he had wiped it off. The plastic surface had grease splatters, sticky spots, and crumbs on it.

"What are your views on religion?" Ethel said. "Do you believe in God?"

"Huh?" The odd question startled Aaron. "My parents were Catholic, but they almost never attended church. I didn't get much religion as a child. I'm agnostic, if anything. What about you?"

"I'm asking the questions here."

"Does this mystery job have something to do with religion?"

She sipped her coffee. "In a way. How do you define 'miracle?'"

"I don't know." He shook his head.

"The dictionary defines miracle as 'an extraordinary event that surpasses all known natural powers and is ascribed to a supernatural cause.' Do you believe in them?"

"Miracles? I believe a lot of people use the word 'miracle' when they just don't understand what's going on."

"You're correct." She nodded. "But that doesn't mean they're always wrong."

She drew a dagger from a scabbard hidden up her sleeve. The hilt was wrapped with gray cords and the blade was painted black. It was about eight inches long.

She gave the dagger to him, stood, and moved back a few feet. "Throw it at my face. Hard."

He stared at her. "Are you crazy?"

"Throw. I'll be perfectly safe."

He couldn't throw a knife at a woman, even if she asked for it, so he just tossed it back to her. She easily grabbed the knife out of the air and gave it back.

"I'm serious," she said.

He stood up and tossed it harder. She caught it by the handle and returned it.

"That was pathetic! Try again."

He really threw the knife this time, straight at her face, but the result was the same. She seemed to have phenomenal reflexes.

"Challenge me," she ordered.

He reared back and used all the strength in his arm. She snatched the knife out of the air with an impossibly quick reaction. Her hand moved faster than his eyes could follow.

"That was a miracle," she said. "To me, that knife moved quite slowly and was easy to catch."

"How?" he whispered.

"Join my team and you'll find out. Sit."

She sat at the table. She spun the dagger between her fingers with such speed it looked like a black disk. It made a whirring sound which was unsettling. The absolute darkness in her eyes was even more unsettling.

He joined her at the table. "That's a magic trick."

"No."

"Then I'm on drugs or asleep."

She shook her head. The blade continued to spin at an insane speed. "For the first time in your life, you're getting a glimpse behind the curtain that surrounds the natural world. You're seeing things God doesn't permit ordinary people to see. I could show you more, a lot more. Are you interested in joining?"

"Joining who?" He raised his hands. "I don't know who you are!"

"We're a secret society, and unfortunately, I can't tell you anything else until you commit. You stand at a precipice with your toes hanging over the edge. Step forward, and you're one of us forever. Step back, and you'll never see me or my people again."

"That's ridiculous. You're asking me to make a choice in a vacuum."

She shrugged. "Those are the rules. You have to walk through the curtain blind."

She abruptly threw the dagger at the wall just above the kitchen counter. The sharp tip sunk two inches into the wall, and the dagger quivered.

He swallowed. "What will I get paid?"

"As much as you need. Money won't be one of your concerns."

"Sure." He snorted.

She took a white envelope out of her jacket pocket and handed it to him. He opened the envelope and discovered it was stuffed with hundred dollar bills, at least five thousand dollars worth.

"What's this for?" he asked.

She snatched the envelope back, walked over to the window, opened it, and threw the cash outside. It fell three stories to the city street below. Aaron heard the sound of cars screeching to a stop.

He tried to appear unimpressed, but five grand was a substantial amount of money. He had heard of people getting killed over less.

"Money isn't important," Ethel said. "It's an illusion. The rewards we seek are more eternal in nature."

"I've heard priests use that line. I didn't buy it then, either."

She strolled around the room aimlessly for a moment. She eventually stopped in front of an electric piano in the corner. Aaron was a good pianist thanks to a childhood spent practicing every day for at least an hour. His mother had demanded he become a competent musician despite a lack of enthusiasm or real talent. He still owned a piano because he felt obligated to have one.

"Do you have a plan?" Ethel asked.

"For what?"

"Your life. What do you want to do with it?"

"I planned to be a police officer," he said. "I planned to marry my high school sweetheart and maybe have kids someday."

"That was before." She turned to look at him. "What are your
new
plans?"

"Pay the rent and keep the fridge stocked with frozen dinners."

"That's sad."

He shrugged. "It's my life."

"I'm offering you an opportunity to help a lot of people. You'll never be famous, and only a select few will even know you exist, but the work we do is extremely important. Our responsibilities are enormous."

"That's easy to say, since I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Aaron," Ethel said, "I'm giving you twenty-four hours to think about this. It's unfair for me to force you to make such an important decision on the spot. Keep one thing in mind though. Once you join, there is no backing out."