Anthology - Dark Whispers Part 20

"Dinner will be ready soon, darling." She stepped inside, her firm features clouded with worrya"or suspicion. "What is it, Rachel? Your dad said something must be bothering you. I see that it is."

d.a.m.n it!"I'm all right, Mom. I guess I'm just tired. I've been having some trouble with my schoolwork."

"Anything I can do to help?"

She forced a little smile. "Not unless you can factor whole numbers."

Mrs. Van Horne laughed lightly. "I'm afraid math was never my strong point. Is that all that's bothering you?"

What could she say?Pictures of Billy Moon f.u.c.king the s.h.i.+t out of me are gonna be pinned up in the bathroom of every pervert's home in America. The temptation was there. What would happen to that proper, righteous face that gazed so coolly at her, as if it held all the answers to everything in lifea"and beyond?I've got five-hundred dollars, Mom, because I sold myself to the devil.

"Really, that's all, I guess," Rachel said softly. "And it's getting on that time of month." The last part she added with a slightly embarra.s.sed grin, knowing her mother would find no humor in the remark.

"Then you be sure and take care of yourself," her mother said coldly, and turned to leave. "Dinner in five minutes. Remember the evening service is tonight."

WERE ALL OF them looking at her?

Pastor Lucas's eyes kept meeting hers from his place at the pulpit. Everyone in the choir, her mother included. The rest of the congregation. She could feel their eyes boring into her, while she stared sightlessly at the hymnal in her lap. Every time she glanced up, someone was watching her. Mr. Dodson, two rows over, his old, watery eyes full of reproach, his stern jaw set firmly in apparent disgust. Mrs. Hopkins, peering at her through binocular-sized gla.s.ses beneath a crown of billowy, blue-gray hair. Ms. Beauchamp, the school art teacher, a pretty, young brunette, hardly looked any older than Rachel, her dark eyes now and again glancing up, radiating disappointment. How did they all know? Who told them?

Or had they all found out for themselves?

Rachel couldn't resist meeting Ms. Beauchamp's stare, trying to appear nonchalant. Their eyes locked for endless, tense moments, and she tried to envision the young art teacher on her knees with Billy Moon's throbbing c.o.c.k shoved down her throat. At last, she couldn't take it anymore and turned away, her face burning, aware that everyone in the surrounding rows seemed to have witnessed the exchange. Her father sat next to her, studying her, gauging every blink of her reddened eyes, every nervous twitch of her fingers. One arm slid around the back of the pew to encircle her shoulders, gave a brief, gentle squeeze. Surely, he'd noticed that she, not the preacher up front, was the center of attention.She was the star attraction, and any time now her dad would say, "All right, Rachel Van Horne, do you mind telling me what this is all about?"

Her dad was the church's head trustee. If the congregation knew about her,he would know about her, quite soon.

The pastor's voice boomed: "The Lord said, *If ye will not hearken unto me, and will not do all my commandments; And if ye shall despise my statutes, or if your soul abhor my judgments, I also will do this unto you: I will appoint over you terror, consumption, and the burning ague, that shall consume the eyes, and cause sorrow of the heart; and I will set my face against you, and ye shall be slain. I will send wild beasts upon you; I will bring a sword upon you, that shall avenge the quarrel of my covenant; and ye shall eat the flesh of your sons, and the flesh of your daughters.'

"My friends." The elderly pastor's stare never left Rachel. His iron-gray hair, his narrow, accusing eyes, his thin, bloodless lips; a countenance which poured condemnation upon her. "The words of our Lord speak to us of the consequences of our disobedience. For everything we do, there are consequences. Man was born into sin, and sin brought forth the vengeance of G.o.d. Now is the time for us to repent. All of us, who are lowly sinners, all must bow down before our savior Jesus Christ and accept Him into our hearts. It is the only way to escape eternal d.a.m.nation. Consider this wisely, my friends. Jesus loves us and wants us to be with Him. But as long as we wallow in our sins, we are kept apart. This is Satan's greatest weapon: our enjoyment of sin, ourreveling in sin. As long as Satan maintains his hold over you, you are condemned to share his terrible fate."

He spoke directly to Rachel. "Some of us even flaunt our sins, proud of the unG.o.dly things we do, to elevate our stature among the heathens. The world is evil, my friends. The flesh is evil. We must turn our backs. We must be cleansed."

It was all she could do to keep from standing up and shouting, "G.o.d made our fles.h.!.+ G.o.d made the world! It all came from G.o.d. You said so! YOU SAID SO!"

...Those who hide are AFRAID!

"MOVIES. YOU HAVE to make movies, Rachel. I want to see you. I wantyou. "

"Go away," she whispered into the phone, her eyes burning with tears. "Leave me the h.e.l.l alone!"Careful! If Dad heard ...

He was in the kitchen, just around the corner. He couldn't hear this, he couldn't. She should hang up. Just hang up!

"I wantyou, baby. I want to lick you. I want to squeeze the nectar from your soiled panties and taste you. I want to stick my tongue inside you. Oh, baby...oh, baby..."

She slammed the phone down, heart pounding, unable to breathe. Oh, G.o.d, it hurt!

"What on earth is going on?" her father roared, stepping into the living room from the kitchen. "Why did you do that?"

She couldn't speak. This was it. He was going to confront her now, and it would all come out. My G.o.d, what would he do to her?

"Is somebody bothering you, honey?" The voice was gentle, but wary, as if to insinuate that she'd brought her problems upon herself.Hadn't she?

In a quavering voice, she managed, "It's that guy from school. He won't leave me alone."

"I've told you about boys. They'll try anything they can to get to you, sweetheart. You know that. You have to be strong. You have to stay strong in your faith, and not give in. Don't let them intimidate you."

"I...I won't, Dad."

"You're really upset. What did he say to you? Do I need to have a talk with this young man?"

"No!" she blurted, then covered her mouth with her hand. Shook her head. "I'll handle it. I'm all right."

"You don't look it."

"I'm fine."

She turned and headed for her room, trying not to break into a run. His eyes burned into the back of her head, trying to unlock her secrets. She paused at her door, looked back. He was holding a gla.s.s of milk, watching her with concern.Suspicious.

Who the h.e.l.l could the caller be? How did he find her? She thought briefly of her contract with the agency: confidential, they'd told her. But what if they didn't keep their word? Ora"what if one ofthem ...

"I've got to get out of here," she whispered, falling onto her bed. Jesus gazed down at her from his place on the wall, his smile cold and unforgiving. Her fingers crept beneath the mattress, touched the edge of a crisp piece of paper. But it was filth. Payment for her horrible acts. She had condemned herself.

But that five hundred dollars could at least get her away from here, take her to a place where her parents would never find her, where n.o.body from this town would ever find her. Maybe she could even hide from G.o.d. There had to be places where the Lord Himself didn't dare set foot!

Five-hundred wouldn't last long, though. What would she do when it ran out? Walk the streets?

THE RINGING OF the phone downstairs jarred her from her daydreams: images of childhood, riding a pony down by Uncle Sherman's pond, stealing Suzie Kaylor's Barbie doll because Mom and Dad wouldn't get her anything so geared to the material...

Please don't be him.

For several minutes, no one called her down, so apparently, the call was not for hera"thank G.o.d. But then, unexpectedly, a knock at her door.

"Yes?"

Her father poked his head inside, his eyes, as always now, dark with distrust. She shuddered.

"That was Pastor Lucas on the phone. He wants to see you. Tonight."

"I see," she managed hoa.r.s.ely. "What does he want?"

"I don't know. I got the feeling it's not about your youth group."

A cold tongue licked her spine. She couldn't speak.

"Is that all right with you?" he asked.

"Yeah. Okay."

"What's wrong with you, Rachel? Is there something we need to talk about?" Her dad's face seemed to soften with genuine concern. What if she told him everything? What would he do to her?

She shook her head, tried to smile. "Nothing's wrong, Dad. Really. You and Mom are the ones that are tense. Lighten up a little."

The feint seemed to have some effect. He gave her a long, appraising look, then nodded. "I'll take you down to the church after dinner."

"I can drive myself."

"No. I'll take you. I have some business to attend to."

"Whatever, Dad."

He started to leave, then paused. "I love you, sweetheart."

She didn't look at him. "I love you too, Dad."

THE IDEA DIDN'T hit her until they'd almost reached the church.

Good to see you...

The voice on the phone.

...Ye shall eat the flesh of your sons, and the flesh of your daughters.

No! She had to be wrong.

She was going right into his lair.

Could it indeed have been his voice? The very shepherd of the congregation?

The one and only Pastor Garrick Lucas?

The voice on the phone had obviously been disguised, perhaps even electronically distorted. But thinking about it now, it seemed almost undeniable. The inflections...the gruffness of speech...

Lucas would know she couldn't possibly say anything to anyone!

Something between terror and rage exploded in her heart. The son of a b.i.t.c.h! What could she do? Ask her dad to go in with her? Would he wonder why? Start asking questions?

Wouldn't it be better just to tell him and get it over with? Or...

Maybe she had a fighting chance on her own. If Pastor Lucas had found out about her because of his own attempts to fulfill his earthly desires, then she could turn the situation to her advantage. He could not expose her without implicating himself.

But surely he would knowthat . He had to have something else in mind.

Her father parked the car in the lot beside the church. Several others were parked nearby, including Pastor Lucas'. Above, the tall, cross-crowned spire, backlit by the silvery half-moon, cast its shadow upon her. A dim light within the sanctuary glowed blood-red through the stained-gla.s.s windows. She thought her dad would just let her out and leave, but he turned off the engine and opened his door. A moment of confusion.

"Are you coming in?"

"I need to pick up a couple of things from the office. I'll swing back by in a little bit to see if you and Pastor Lucas are finished."

Her heart began to pound as they approached the doors. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe the pastor was completely innocent, only wanted to discuss with her some possible role as youth leader, like they'd talked about a few times before. Or would he be waiting inside the doors, see her father and say, "Mr. Van Horne, I'm glad you're here. There's something about your daughter I think you should know..."

They climbed the steps to the sanctuary doors, and her father ushered her inside. Within the dim narthex, she could see the altar through the open interior doors, the golden cross upon it blazing like a beacon. Behind her, the jangle of keys, the solid click of the door locking. Looking back, she saw her dad replacing a key in his pocket.

"Why did you lock the door?"

"Can't be too careful," he said. "You know lots of churches have been broken into lately. They really ought to keep it locked all the time." He turned and entered the sanctuary, with Rachel hesitantly following several steps behind. At that moment, the door to the right of the choir loft creaked open, and Pastor Lucas stepped through, fully dressed in his Sunday robes. He smiled as he saw them, and Rachel's dad raised a hand in greeting.

"Good evening," came the pastor's voice, deep tones rumbling through the cavernous s.p.a.ce. "h.e.l.lo, Rachel."

Her throat was dry and she could not speak. She nodded as politely as she could, knowing full well all the blood had drained from her cheeks.

"I need to pick up some budget reports from my office," Mr. Van Horne said, his voice suddenly flat and lifeless. "I'll be back a little later." Without looking at her, he disappeared through the door the pastor had just entered.

The sanctuary was a frighteningly gloomy place at night, the dim chandeliers above providing the only light. Alone now with Pastor Lucas, she tried to keep from quailing in terror. She heard her father's footsteps fading in the hallway beyond the door, and suddenly, a freezing cold hand clasped the back of her neck. She jerked violently, and swung around, giving a little cry.

There was no one there.

"Is something the matter, Rachel?"

She met the pastor's cold gray eyes.

"No." Her voice somehow remained steady.

"Good. I'm glad you're here, Rachel. I've been wanting to see you."

I've been dying to see you.

He took a step toward her. She involuntarily stepped back. His face registered slight surprise.

"You're nervous. Don't be."

"Why do you want to see me?"

"Don't you know?"

A chill went down her spine. Pastor Lucas' face betrayed nothing but mild curiosity. What did hereally have in mind?

Then, she heard a strange sound coming from the direction of the altar. Noa"over by the choir loft, to the right. A soft whisper, like someone breathing heavily. The hairs on the back of her neck rose.

And then: "Rachel...good to see you."

Smooth, low voice. Purring. Horribly familiar.