Blood Sins (27 page)

Hollis drew a breath. "Sarah Warren. A Haven operative." Her voice was toneless. "Until today, nobody could really come forward and I.D. her for you. The fact that she was undercover there can't come out until this is over. Sorry."

Sawyer decided not to get angry about that. Yet. "Okay. I trust this woman's family has been notified?"

"Yes," Bishop said. "And they understand why they can't claim her body yet or even publicly mourn her."

"Do they?"

Bishop looked at him steadily. "They understand, Chief."

Sawyer nodded. "Okay," he repeated, then said to DeMarco, "So how come you were able to show up within minutes of her death, as Agent Galen says?"

"Because Sarah made a mistake," DeMarco replied, something bleak in his tone. "She was spotted on one of the security cameras at the outer perimeter of the Compound, carrying one of the children. It was the middle of the night, and she was obviously leaving with the child. A child who didn't belong to her. Security alerted me. I had no intention of alerting Samuel, but a guard had already done so. He didn't come out but called me into his private quarters. And he was angry. He rarely shows anger, but that night it was clear he was furious."

"Why?" Sawyer asked.

"Because Sarah was taking Wendy Hodges."

H
ODGES? ELLEN'S DAUGHTER?
You told me her father had taken her from the Compound."

H Rather dryly, DeMarco said, "You might want to take anything I told you inside the Compound with a grain of skepticism, Chief."

"You're a great liar," Sawyer said finally.

"One of the best attributes of a deep-cover operative. Although I do think it was unfair of you to call me a ghoul."

"I never called you that."

"Not out loud."

Sawyer scowled at him. "That
really
doesn't help your case, you know. Just tell me I haven't had your voice in my head during the last few days."

"Excuse me?"

Either he's really a hell of a liar or he doesn't have a clue what I'm talking about.

It was Tessa who said, "He's asking if you're telepathic both ways."

DeMarco shook his head. "I just read. Can't send."

"Technically," Bishop said, "Tessa is the only one here who can send as well as read."

"Technically?" Sawyer asked.

"My wife and I are telepathic both ways, but only with each other. Sending is generally much more difficult even for powerful telepaths, though sometimes we can manage it in extreme situations."

"Like death," Hollis murmured. She looked up to find Bishop staring at her and added hastily, "Sorry. Just . . . thinking out loud. I mean, with so many telepaths around most of the time, what's the use of keeping things to myself?"

Sawyer didn't want to add another question to those still rattling around in his mind, so he decided to ignore the byplay. "Getting back to Ellen Hodges's daughter," he prompted DeMarco.

"Sorry. As I was saying, the little girl Sarah took that night--Wendy--was a very special child, highly valued by Samuel. A born, active psychic. Telekinetic. Far as I know, the only telekinetic he's ever found."

"They're rare," Bishop said. "Extremely rare."

DeMarco nodded. "And he was losing the only one he'd found, before she was old enough to come fully into her abilities. Before she could play whatever part Samuel intended her to play in his . . . end game."

"So he--what? Sent you after the child?"

"He told me to take a security detail and cut through the woods, try to get to Sarah before she could take Wendy out of the Compound. I honestly believed he meant that we were to bring them both back to the church. But I think he knew she already had Wendy safe. That's why he was so enraged. I think he knew even as he was issuing those orders to me that he was going to kill Sarah. But I still don't know how he was able to do it. He never left the church. Never left his quarters. Sarah was two miles from the church when she died. We heard her scream."

"Yes," Galen said. "So did I. Her body was still warm when I got to her. And all I can tell you about how she died is that she died terrified and in agony."

Sawyer remembered the body he had found in the river, remembered the M.E.'s report that the dead woman's bones had been virtually crushed, and he couldn't even begin to imagine how painful and terrifying that must have been. And he couldn't begin to imagine how Samuel had done that to her.

"You're sure Samuel killed her?"

"I'm sure," DeMarco said bluntly. "Nobody else up there has anything like enough power to kill, let alone do it at such a distance. But I believe Samuel can. And he's getting better at it. Faster. More brutal. I believe he kills them and then draws every bit of energy from them."

DeMarco paused, then said deliberately, "Hell, for all I know, he takes their souls." His gaze was on Hollis. "We haven't had a medium close enough to tell us that for sure."

"He didn't take Ellen Hodges's soul."

"You saw her?"

"Yes. And a long way from here. That took amazing determination and made what she had to tell me more than usually worth paying attention to."

"What did she tell you?"

"That I needed to be here in order to help stop Samuel."

With a glance at Bishop, DeMarco said, "I wondered. Having a medium even this close is dicey. It's the one ability he does
not
want."

"Yeah," Hollis said. "I know. It's why he tried to feed me to his pet monster. He really, really doesn't want to be able to tap in to the spirit world. Which means he knows he doesn't get their souls--or he believes there's something else on the other side that could destroy him."

"Something else he's afraid of," Tessa said. "Bishop, the SCU, and, specifically, mediums. Weaknesses we can exploit?"

"Let's hope so," Bishop said.

Sawyer looked around the table. "You got a plan?"

Quentin said, "We're working on one."

Sawyer wanted to say that it was a little late in the day to only be "working" on a plan but instead directed his attention back to DeMarco. "You said
some
of the psychics whose abilities he steals turn up dead or go missing. But not all of them?"

"No. Some are still there, part of his congregation."

Tessa said, "But changed. Right? Different from the way they used to be."

DeMarco looked at her. "Yeah."

"Changed how?" Sawyer wanted to know.

"Hard to say precisely. They no longer read as psychic, but . . . It's more than that. If I had to guess, I'd say that they lost more than their psychic abilities to Samuel. Maybe a lot more. Maybe as much as a person could lose and still be able to walk and talk and be almost human."

"Stepford people," Tessa murmured. "Going through the motions, all scrubbed and nice. But empty inside."

She was wearing a slight frown, and Sawyer could still feel her impatience; in fact, he could feel it growing. She had Ruby's bag on her lap, open wide enough so that the tiny white poodle's head was visible as Tessa petted her gently.

Odd,
Sawyer thought for the first time.
Nobody's said a word about the dog. Or even seemed to notice her.

"Pretty much," DeMarco said, agreeing with Tessa. "They smile and talk to you, and they're
almost
the people they used to be. Only not quite."

"All of them?" Sawyer asked, distracted by this new horror.

"No. But a majority of them now. Including the non-psychics." He shook his head. "The women can maybe be explained by the way Samuel sucks energy from them. Maybe there's a point of no return. Maybe they can only lose so much energy, so much of the essence of what makes them unique, before the person they were just . . . dissolves."

Maybe the creepiest thing yet,
Sawyer thought. "And the men?"

"It's the same result; I'm just not sure how he does it. If he's drawing energy from the men, it isn't such an open, visible thing and not part of any kind of formal ceremony or pseudoreligious ritual. Not like the Testimony ritual, where one or more women are obviously stimulated to the brink of orgasm." His voice was matter-of-fact.

Tessa told them then about the "dream" she had had the night before. She kept her eyes on DeMarco the whole time, and when she finished he was nodding his head.

"Yeah, that happened last night. Exactly as you described it--my part of it, at least. I'm never present when he has one of the women in his office, but it always ends the same way. I'm called in, and I carry an unconscious woman back to her bed."

T
he Ritual Room was about twenty feet by twenty feet, Ruby guessed, though the size was deceptive because of the dark, floor-to-ceiling velvet draperies that hid the walls and the thick, dark carpet that cushioned underfoot. Though the ceiling of the room was far higher than was normal for a belowground level, the five pendant lights that were the room's only illumination hung low, no more than six feet or so above the floor, and each cast below it a perfect circle of light: one in the center and four encircling it.

About three feet out beyond the outer four circles stood a copper candle holder taller than Ruby, fashioned to hold a single candle. The copper gleamed even though it lay outside the light.

Ruby knew, because it had been explained to them, that each of the four outer lights and the tall candle holders were placed precisely to represent the four directions--north, south, east, and west--while the light in the center represented just that.

The
center
. The
center
of
everything
.

That was where Father stood waiting for them.

Ruby had wondered more than once if there was another door hidden somewhere behind the draperies, because Ruth always unlocked the door to usher the girls in, and it didn't seem likely that Father would be waiting inside a locked room for his Chosen ones. But Ruby had never gotten the chance to look around; Ceremonies and Rituals were always carefully controlled, usually by Ruth, this one especially.

The four girls silently took their assigned places. Ruby was north; Mara was south; Theresa was east; and Amy was west. Each went to the circle of light and knelt on a little velvet pillow facing the center, heads bowed, flickering candles held steadily before them.

With hardly a sound, Ruth left the room, drawing the long draperies across to hide the door and then disappearing behind them.

Ruby didn't have to look up to know that Father was smiling, that his face wore the serene expression it always wore.

His outer face, at least.

She didn't want to think about his other face, and she most certainly didn't want to see it again.

It terrified her.

"You are the Chosen," Father said, his voice unutterably loving as he spoke steadily while he turned in a slow circle.

"We are the Chosen," Ruby heard herself repeat, as the other three girls did. Ruby fought the strange, wordless urge to give in to him, no matter what he asked of her, no matter what he did to her.

It was always so hard to fight him.

"Loved by God."

The girls repeated the words.

"Given by Him to bless this world."

Again, they repeated the words after him.

"Given by Him to serve this world."

Ruby was trying not to think about anything except making her shell harder, repeating the familiar words and phrases without even listening to them.

"Given by Him to save this world."

The last sentence was repeated, over and over, a mantra or a prayer or an offering, spoken in low voices but faster and faster until the words seemed to blur together, until the sound was almost . . . a moan.

And as she repeated it, Ruby kept her eyes half closed. She refused to watch what she knew was happening.

He always began with Amy, in the west, though Ruby had no idea why. Perhaps it had nothing to do with the direction and was only because Amy was oldest.

But I can't look. It makes me weak when I look. It scares me so much that I forget to keep my shell wrapped around me.

Above the steady chanting came a sudden loud moan, and the sound made her look despite herself.

He was standing behind Amy, both hands folded on top of her head. His eyes were closed, and he continued to chant, his face lifted toward the ceiling--or toward heaven.

No, not toward heaven. God didn't choose him. God wouldn't want this, I'm sure of it.

Amy knelt, her head bowed. Eyes closed. She had stopped chanting; her mouth was open, slack, wet. She moaned again, her body visibly shivering, jerking.

Ruby knew what was happening to her friend. Ruth and Father and her mother might call it something holy, but she knew better. It wasn't holy at all. It was obscene. And the fact that Amy remained a virgin and that she felt nothing but pleasure during the act didn't change the fact that it was rape.

Nobody needed to explain that to Ruby.

And nobody needed to explain to her the terrifying fact that Father stole more than just his Chosen ones' innocence. Every time she looked at her mother's face, or Ruth's face, or the faces of so many of the women of the church, the women who had once been Chosen themselves, Ruby was offered a stark reminder.

Father stole
life
.

Father stole
self
.

A little bit at a time. A Ceremony. A
Youth
Ritual. A Testimony. Whatever he chose to call it, the end result was the same.

He destroyed.

"S
o Bambi is okay?" Tessa asked.

"She was at breakfast this morning and seemed the same as always."

"So he hasn't drained away her personality yet."

"No. That process seems to take at least a dozen private visits with Samuel, over a span of months. Or, at least, it did. Things do seem to be moving faster now, happening quicker or more often. Like that black hole I compared him to, he's sucking in energy at an ever-increasing rate."