“I can’t even imagine what they put in those things. I’m pretty sure whatever it is didn’t come from any part of a cow you’d willingly choose to snack on. It looks like refried shit.”
“Damn, Mo! Do you mind? I’m trying to eat here.”
“Well, can you do it with your mouth closed at least? Those smacking noises are making my stomach turn.”
“You sound like my mom.”
“Well, damn, John. Maybe you should have listened to her. Your eating habits are subhuman.”
Mohammed laughed as he unwrapped a pre-packaged Caesar salad complete with a small packet of dressing and croutons. His wife had put him on a diet, saying he was too skinny to have a gut. He knew she was right. His protruding stomach was the only indication he wasn’t starving to death. It was the only place he ever seemed to gain weight. His arms, legs, and chest were almost skin and bones.
Even as they ate, the detectives continued staring up the street at the home of Frank and Aida Wells. There had not been any movement in the house for a while, and both cars were still in the driveway. Blue cathode rays flickered in an upstairs bedroom as a widescreen TV set strobe-lit the room. It was the only visible sign of life.
The sun had set hours ago and security lights illuminated the lawn. The shadow of leaves from a willow tree in the yard crawled over the front of the house as a stiff breeze animated its branches. The movement was so peaceful it was hard to believe they were looking at the scene of a child abduction and possible murder. The entire street held that air of calm and serenity that only came from privilege. The houses in this neighborhood were all upward of five hundred thousand.
“You think Mr. Wells is in there getting himself a little trim too? It seems like the thing to do when your kid goes missing these days.”
The upstairs television flicked off and two shadows passed by the windows. Minutes later, the front door opened and Frank and Aida spilled out, dressed as if they were on their way to a nightclub. Mrs. Wells wore a short, tight-fitting, low-cut black silk dress and heels. Mr. Wells wore a simple white dress shirt and black pants with shoes polished to a high gloss.
“Looks like they’re coming out. Let’s just hope they’re on their way to church and not to a casino or something.”
“Damn. I didn’t even get to finish my salad.”
“Like you need another meal.” Malloy patted Mohammed on his belly, knowing how self-conscious the guy was about it.
“Hey! You tryin’ to get your ass kicked in here?”
They both laughed as they followed the Wells’s Escalade down the street.
Chapter 20
The two thugs opened the door and staggered out of Delilah’s bedroom looking visibly shaken, leaning on each other for support.
“Damn, I hate that shit, Pops. I’ll never get used to that,” the younger thug said as he tossed a cigarette between his lips and lit it with trembling hands.
“Just imagine, Tony - that’s only a fraction of what Delilah carries around inside her. I don’t know how she does it.”
“She couldn’t do it without us,” Tony replied.
“You mean without them.” The huge gray-haired man with the hard dark eyes gestured toward the little girl he still held by the hand. Her eyes were wide and blank, and she was trembling uncontrollably.
“What did you do to her?” April whispered.
“What are
you
still doing here? Didn’t we tell you to go downstairs?” Tony turned toward her quickly and April flinched, afraid he might strike her. He had the look of a woman-beater.
“W-what did you do? What’s wrong with her?”
“Nothin’. She’ll be fine,” Pops answered and a look passed between him and Tony that let April know he was lying.
April knelt in front of the child and placed a hand on either side of her face, staring deep into the girl’s vacant eyes. The girl flinched away and the trembling increased. Her eyes were still wide and unfocused.
“Honey, are you okay? Did anyone hurt you?”
“Oh, Jesus Christ! What the hell do you think we are? A couple of baby-raping pedophiles? Fuck you, sweetheart!” Tony gesticulated wildly as he spoke, and April was again worried he might take a swing at her.
“The girl is fine. She’s just a little overwhelmed right now,” Pops said, stepping forward and smiling broadly. The smile never reached his eyes and the silver Desert Eagle .50 caliber pistol sticking out of the front of his pants killed the benevolent image he was trying to project.
“Overwhelmed by what? What did you do to her?”
The younger man stepped toward her again, gritting his teeth angrily. “Fuck do you mean what did we do to her? We didn’t do shit to her. You guys did. All you sons of bitches. All of us. What do you think Delilah does with all that hate she takes out of us? You saw her just now. Do you think she just walks around like that forever? How do you think she’s able to keep doing it week after week, day after day? She’s got to get rid of it somehow.”
“Shut up, Tony.” Pops put a hand on Tony’s shoulder, and Tony shrugged it off and took another step toward April.
With each step he took toward her she took two steps back. She wanted to run, but she had to know what was going on. He couldn’t be saying what she thought he was. He had to be lying. She had to be misunderstanding him somehow.
“What are you saying? Are you saying you put all of that … are you saying you put it into her?”
“What do you think?” the young Italian guy asked as he pushed past her, snarling in disdain. “Let’s get the fuck out of here. We don’t owe this stupid bitch no explanations. She’s just like the rest of ‘em.”
“You mean the rest of us,” Pops answered, standing in front of Delilah’s door, holding the little girl by the hand. He looked back at Delilah’s bedroom and then turned to look April in her eyes. His eyes were flat and cold, not empty like the girl’s but hollow, like a deep well with something terrible rotting at the bottom. The way he looked at April, she got the impression he was trying to decide if she was worth killing and hadn’t yet made up his mind.
“Yeah, but we’ve paid our price for this shit. We both have. This bitch here thinks she can just keep taking and taking without any consequences. We all have to pay eventually. Love always has a price, and it always hurts. And when the time comes she’ll make whatever sacrifice she needs to just like all the rest of us have - for love.”
“Sacrifice? What sacrifice? You mean her? You mean someone gave her to you? Where are her parents?” It was all making some horrible sense now. She was beginning to realize what she had participated in, was participating in, something more terrible than she ever could have imagined. That nerve-rending anguish she’d seen Delilah enduring, enduring for all the members of her congregation who flocked to her like parasites, like hopeless addicts begging for a taste, was being channeled into young children.
“Go home, sweetheart. Enjoy your fantasy while it lasts.”
“But why? Why children?”
Tony stepped closer to April until his breath was steaming in her face. He took another drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke in her eyes. April blinked and coughed but held her ground.
“Why? Why the fuck do you think? Because adults can’t take it. It would kill us if she put all of that into one of us. Not it, but what all that hate attracts.”
“That’s enough, Tony. You talkin’ too much now.”
“Who the fuck is she gonna tell, Pops? She gonna go to the police? Do any of them ever? Go to the police and have to deal with all her pain by herself again? Nah, she won’t say shit. She wanted to know, so I’m tellin’ her.”
“What happens to the adults?”
Tony smirked and took another long pull from the cigarette. He was still nose-to-nose with April, openly leering at her in a way that was not so much sexual as malevolent. Like an unstable child trying to think up some new way to torture the school nerd. He stood there watching her tremble. But a pall of fear had fallen over his eyes as well, as if he were looking inside his head at something that scared the hell out of him, sifting through memories he’d prefer to have left undisturbed.
“Imagine everything you come into contact with being affected by all that hate and fear that’s just fucking boiling off you in waves, pissing off whatever so much as gets near you, from the smallest insect to … well, us. Think about what that would look like. Everything that even looks at you is instantly afraid of you, instantly hates you. You’re fucking public enemy number one. I’m telling you, I’ve seen that shit and it ain’t pretty. There’s something about the kids though - not all of ‘em, just the girls. It allows them to keep it all inside. The boys can’t do it for whatever fucking reason. That shit fucks them up just like it does us. Maybe because girls internalize their emotions or some shit. They turn all their hatred inward, you know? Guys let it all out and turn violent. They become sadistic fucks, murderers, rapists, fucking wife-beaters, and child abusers and shit. You put what Delilah takes out of us into a guy, even a little boy, and it’s like a horror movie what comes out and animals can sense that shit. They attack that motherfucker like their lives depended on it. We don’t really know why it works like that. Fuck if I know anyway. It’s all just a guess really. We aren’t really even sure how Delilah does it in the first place. That Loa or demon or whatever she has inside her that gives her the power, nobody knows why it works that way with her. I mean, what does it get out of it? It hurts her. It makes us feel better and it fucks up whoever she passes it on to … whoever
they
pass it on to. But how does any of this help that thing inside her? Nobody knows. What we do know is that we need it. We need what it does, what Delilah does, and that means we have to keep helping her.”
The young Italian guy turned and walked toward the stairs. His older partner followed close behind, still holding the little girl’s hand. April stared slack-jawed at their backs, trying to find some way to disbelieve them.
“This can’t be real. This can’t be happening!” She shook her head. “This is monstrous! How can you do this? What about her parents?”
The young Italian guy turned around halfway down the hall. “Her parents? Her parents? You think we’re the fucking monsters?” Tony was moving back up the hall toward April. His fists were clenched and his jaw was tight, eyes shooting sparks. Pops stepped in front of him and put a hand on his chest. Tony swatted it away and lunged at April. His partner grabbed him and dragged Tony back down the hall.
“Who do you think gave her to us, huh? You self-righteous little cunt! They all know what’s going on! Every one of them knows, and if they don’t, they find out soon enough, and they all make the same choice. Not one of them wants to give this up!”
His voice was almost hysterical. April wondered what he had given up for this. Whatever it was, it was something he was still hurting from.
“How-how could they?”
“Because they don’t want to lose the love! You’ve felt it. You’ve been here what, a week? And you’re hooked already. I can see it in you. You’re a junkie for what Delilah does, just like the rest of us. None of us want to go back to living the way we used to. Angry at the world, afraid of our future, terrified of our pasts, and we’ll do whatever the fuck we have to do to keep feeling like this!”
April looked at him, at the rage in his eyes, and saw something that shocked her. The man was out of control. He was amped up like he’d been snorting coke and popping amphetamines all weekend. He was completely unstable. She had pissed him off just a little and it had almost turned violent. He didn’t seem able to handle his own emotions. Not the negative ones anyway. Not the ones he went to Delilah for relief from. April wondered if this was a sign of his addiction. He had developed a dependency and now he could no longer handle even the simplest vexation of his will without help, without Delilah.
He was right though. She was addicted too. Since meeting Delilah she’d hardly been home. She couldn’t stay away from the woman. The voodoo priestess had become more than a help, more than a crutch. She was becoming a monkey on April’s back. Still, what she felt went beyond the addiction. She’d never been in love before, but she was sure what she felt toward her was more than just what she could do for her. The way Delilah suffered for them was the most beautiful act of self-sacrifice she’d ever seen. It made her think of what it must have been like to witness Christ suffering and dying for man’s sins. April imagined that Jesus’ pain was not much different than the pain Delilah endured for her, for all of them, over and over again. Every day she was “crucified” by their collective miseries in order to free them so they could love and be happy. How could she not love someone so willing to sacrifice herself?
The two thugs started walking away again.
“Wait!” She grabbed the young Italian guy’s arm, but he jerked it out of her grasp and drew back a hand as if he were going to slap her. April winced and let out a tiny yelp.
Tony let his hand drop back down to his side and shook his head as if looking at something profoundly pitiful. “What?”
“Just tell me: How does she do it to them? How does she …?”
“She doesn’t fuck them if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s the blood. She gives them the blood.” Tony reached out and touched April’s mouth with his index finger. “And then they scream.”
April watched with her emotions in turmoil as the two men walked off down the hall, down the winding staircase and out the front door, carting the traumatized, nearly catatonic young girl with them. She ran to the door and watched their black Denali drive off, making a mental note of the license plate number.
Before the SUV turned out of the driveway April saw the little girl in the backseat, her face still devoid of all expression except for a single tear that ran from her left eye over her cheek to the corner of her lip. As April watched, the little girl’s body began to tremble again, the blank expression on her face slowly transfigured into one of abject horror. The dark tinted windows slowly rolled up, hiding the little girl’s face. Before the vehicle raced out of sight, she heard the girl scream again. Even after the Denali had vanished down the road, the girl’s scream lingered in the air like the scent of madness.