The Servants of Twilight (60 page)
Grinning like a creature out of an old Frankenstein movie, the big man advanced into the room.
Christine saw Joey backing into the corner at the far end of the cave.
She had failed him.
No!
There must be something she could do, Jesus, some decisive action she could still take, something that would dramatically turn the tables, something that would save them. There
must
be something. But she couldn’t think of anything.
There must be something she could do, Jesus, some decisive action she could still take, something that would dramatically turn the tables, something that would save them. There
must
be something. But she couldn’t think of anything.
71
The huge man
stepped farther into the cave. It was the monster Charlie had met at Spivey’s rectory, the giant with the twisted face. The one the hag had called Kyle.
stepped farther into the cave. It was the monster Charlie had met at Spivey’s rectory, the giant with the twisted face. The one the hag had called Kyle.
As he watched Kyle swagger into the chamber, and as he watched Christine cower from the grotesque intruder, Charlie was filled with equal measures of fear and self-loathing. He was afraid because he knew he was going to die in this dank and lonely hole, and he loathed himself for his weakness and incompetence and ineffectual performance. His parents had been weak and ineffectual, had retreated into a haze of alcohol to console themselves for their inability to cope with life, and from the time he was very young Charlie had promised himself that he would never be like them. He had spent a lifetime learning to be strong, always strong. He
never
backed away from a challenge, largely because his parents had
always
backed away. And he seldom lost a battle. He
hated
losing, his parents were losers, not him, not Charlie Harrison of Klemet-Harrison. Losers were weak in body and mind and spirit, and weakness was the greatest sin. But he couldn’t deny his current circumstances; there was no escaping the fact that he was now half paralyzed with pain, weak as a kitten, and struggling to retain consciousness. There was no dodging the truth, which was that he had brought Christine and Joey to this place and this condition with the promise that he would help them, and his promise had been empty. They needed him, and he couldn’t do anything for them, and now he was going to end his life by failing those he loved, which didn’t make him a lot different from his alky father and his hate-riddled, drunken mother.
never
backed away from a challenge, largely because his parents had
always
backed away. And he seldom lost a battle. He
hated
losing, his parents were losers, not him, not Charlie Harrison of Klemet-Harrison. Losers were weak in body and mind and spirit, and weakness was the greatest sin. But he couldn’t deny his current circumstances; there was no escaping the fact that he was now half paralyzed with pain, weak as a kitten, and struggling to retain consciousness. There was no dodging the truth, which was that he had brought Christine and Joey to this place and this condition with the promise that he would help them, and his promise had been empty. They needed him, and he couldn’t do anything for them, and now he was going to end his life by failing those he loved, which didn’t make him a lot different from his alky father and his hate-riddled, drunken mother.
A part of him knew that he was being too hard on himself. He had done his best. No one could have done more. But he was
always
too hard on himself, and he wouldn’t relent now. What mattered was not what he had
meant
to do but what he had, in fact, done. And what he had done was bring them face to face with Death.
always
too hard on himself, and he wouldn’t relent now. What mattered was not what he had
meant
to do but what he had, in fact, done. And what he had done was bring them face to face with Death.
Behind Kyle, another figure moved out of the archway between this chamber and the next. A woman. For a moment she was in shadows, then revealed in the Halloween-orange light of the fire. Grace Spivey.
With effort, Charlie turned his stiff neck, blinked to clear his blurry vision, and looked at Joey. The boy was in the corner, back to the wall, hands down at his sides with his palms pressing hard against the stone behind him, as if he could will his way into the rock and out of this room. His eyes seemed to bulge. Tears glistened on his face. There was no question that he had been pulled back from the fantasy into which he had tried to escape, no doubt that his attention was now fully commanded by this world, by the chilling reality of Grace Spivey’s hateful presence.
Charlie tried to raise his arms because if he could raise his arms he might be able to sit up, and if he could sit up he might be able to stand, and if he could stand he could fight. But he couldn’t raise his arms, neither of them, not an inch.
Spivey paused to look down at Christine.
“Don’t hurt him,” Christine said, reduced to begging. “For God’s sake, don’t hurt my little boy.”
Spivey didn’t reply. Instead, she turned toward Charlie and shuffled slowly across the room. In her eyes was a look of maniacal hatred and triumph.
Charlie was terrified and repelled by what he saw in those eyes, and he looked away from her. He searched frantically for something that could save them, for a weapon or a course of action they had overlooked.
He was suddenly certain that there was still a way out, that they were not doomed, after all. It wasn’t just wishful thinking, and it wasn’t just a fever dream. He knew his own feelings better than that; he trusted his hunches, and this one was as real and as reliable as any he’d ever had before.
There was still a way out.
But where, how,
what
?
There was still a way out.
But where, how,
what
?
When Christine stared
into Grace Spivey’s eyes, she felt as if an ice-cold hand had plunged through her chest and had seized her heart in an arctic grip. For a moment she couldn’t blink her eyes, couldn’t swallow, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t
think
. The old woman was mad, yes, a raving lunatic, but there was power in her eyes, a perverse strength, and now Christine saw how Spivey might be able to make and hold converts to her insane crusade. Then the hag turned away from her, and Christine could breathe again, and she became aware, once more, of the searing pain in her leg.
into Grace Spivey’s eyes, she felt as if an ice-cold hand had plunged through her chest and had seized her heart in an arctic grip. For a moment she couldn’t blink her eyes, couldn’t swallow, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t
think
. The old woman was mad, yes, a raving lunatic, but there was power in her eyes, a perverse strength, and now Christine saw how Spivey might be able to make and hold converts to her insane crusade. Then the hag turned away from her, and Christine could breathe again, and she became aware, once more, of the searing pain in her leg.
Spivey stopped in front of Charlie and stared down at him.
She’s purposefully ignoring Joey, Christine thought. He’s the reason she has come all this way and has risked being shot, the reason she has struggled into these mountains through two blizzards, and now she’s ignoring him just to savor the moment, relish the triumph.
Christine had nurtured a black hatred for Spivey; but now it was blacker than black. It pushed everything else out of her heart; for just a few seconds it drove out even her love for Joey and became all-fulfilling, consuming.
Then the madwoman turned toward Joey, and the hatred in Christine receded as conflicting waves of love, terror, remorse, and horror swept through her.
Something else swept through her, as well: the resurging feeling that there was still something that could be done to bring Spivey and the giant to their knees, if only she could think clearly.
At last Grace
came face to face with the boy.
came face to face with the boy.
She became aware of the dark aura that surrounded him and radiated from him, and she was much afraid, for she might be too late. Perhaps the power of the Antichrist had grown too strong, and perhaps the child was now invulnerable.
There were tears on his face. He was still pretending to be only an ordinary six-year-old, small and scared and defenseless. Did he really think that she would be deceived by his act, that he had any chance at all of instilling doubt in her at this late hour? She had had moments of doubt before, as in that motel in Soledad, but those periods of weakness had been short-lived and were all behind her now.
She took a few steps toward him.
He tried to squeeze farther back into the corner, but he was already jammed so tightly into the junction of the rock walls that he almost seemed to be a boy-shaped extrusion of them.
She stopped when she was only six or eight feet from him, and she said, “You will not inherit the earth. Not for a thousand years and not even for one minute. I have come to stop you.”
The child didn’t answer.
She sensed that his powers had not yet grown too strong for her, and her confidence soared. He was still afraid of her. She had reached him in time.
She smiled. “Did you really think you could run away from me?”
His gaze strayed past her, and she knew he was looking at the battered dog.
“Your hellhound won’t help you now,” she said.
He began to shake, and he worked his mouth in an effort to speak, and she could see him form the word “Mommy,” but he was unable to make even the slightest sound.
From a sheath attached to her belt, she withdrew a longbladed hunting knife. It was sharply pointed and had been stropped until it was as keen as a razor.
Christine saw the
knife and tried to bolt up from the floor, but the savage pain in her leg thwarted her, and she collapsed back onto the stone even as the giant was bringing the muzzle of the rifle around to cover her.
knife and tried to bolt up from the floor, but the savage pain in her leg thwarted her, and she collapsed back onto the stone even as the giant was bringing the muzzle of the rifle around to cover her.
Speaking to Joey, Spivey said, “I was chosen for this task because of the way I dedicated myself to Albert all those years, because I knew how to give myself completely, unstintingly. That’s how I’ve dedicated myself to this holy mission—without reservation or hesitation, with every ounce of my strength and will power. There was never any chance you would escape from me.”
Desperately trying to reach Spivey, trying to touch her on an emotional level, Christine said, “Please, listen,
please
, you’re wrong, all wrong. He’s just a little boy, my little boy, and I love him, and he loves me.” She was babbling, suddenly inarticulate, and she was furious with herself for being unable to find words that would convince. “Oh God, if you could only see how sweet and loving he is, you’d know you’re all confused about him. You can’t take him away from me. It would be so . . .
wrong
.”
please
, you’re wrong, all wrong. He’s just a little boy, my little boy, and I love him, and he loves me.” She was babbling, suddenly inarticulate, and she was furious with herself for being unable to find words that would convince. “Oh God, if you could only see how sweet and loving he is, you’d know you’re all confused about him. You can’t take him away from me. It would be so . . .
wrong
.”
Ignoring Christine, talking to Joey, Spivey held the knife out and said, “I’ve spent many hours praying over this blade. And one night I saw the spirit of one of Almighty God’s angels come down from the heavens and through the window of my bedroom, and that spirit still resides here, within this consecrated instrument, and when it cuts into you, it will be not just the blade rending your flesh but the angelic spirit, as well.”
The woman was stark raving mad, and Christine knew that an appeal to logic and reason would be as hopeless as an appeal to the emotions had been, but she had to try it, anyway. With growing desperation, she said, “Wait! Listen. You’re wrong. Don’t you see? Even if Joey was what you say—which he isn’t, that’s just crazy—but even if he
was
, even if God wanted him dead, then why wouldn’t
God
destroy him? If He wanted my little boy dead, why wouldn’t He strike him with lightning or cancer or let him be hit by a car? God wouldn’t need
you
to deal with the Antichrist.”
was
, even if God wanted him dead, then why wouldn’t
God
destroy him? If He wanted my little boy dead, why wouldn’t He strike him with lightning or cancer or let him be hit by a car? God wouldn’t need
you
to deal with the Antichrist.”
Spivey answered Christine this time but didn’t turn to face her; the old woman’s gaze remained on Joey. She spoke with a fervency that was scary, her voice rising and falling like that of a tent revivalist, but with more energy than any Elmer Gantry, with a rabid excitement that turned some words into animalistic growls, and with a soaring exaltation that gave other phrases a lilting, songlike quality. The effect was terrifying and hypnotic, and Christine imagined that this was the same mysterious, powerful effect that Hitler and Stalin had had on crowds:
“When evil appears to us, when we see it at work in this troubled, troubled world, we can’t merely fall to our
knees
and beg God to deliver us from it. Evil and vile temptation are a
test
of our faith and virtue, a
challenge
that we must face every day of our lives, in order to prove ourselves
worthy
of salvation and ascendance into Heaven. We cannot expect
God
to remove the yoke from us, for it is a yoke that
we
put upon
ourselves
in the first place. It is our sacred responsibility to
confront
evil and triumph over it,
on our own
, with those resources that Almighty God has given us.
That
is how we earn a place at His right hand, in the company of
angels
.”
knees
and beg God to deliver us from it. Evil and vile temptation are a
test
of our faith and virtue, a
challenge
that we must face every day of our lives, in order to prove ourselves
worthy
of salvation and ascendance into Heaven. We cannot expect
God
to remove the yoke from us, for it is a yoke that
we
put upon
ourselves
in the first place. It is our sacred responsibility to
confront
evil and triumph over it,
on our own
, with those resources that Almighty God has given us.
That
is how we earn a place at His right hand, in the company of
angels
.”
At last the old woman turned away from Joey and faced Christine, and her eyes were more disturbing than ever. She continued her harangue:
“And you reveal your own ignorance and your
damning
lack of faith when you attribute cancer and death and other afflictions to our
Lord
, God of Heaven and earth. It was not
He
who brought evil to the earth and afflicted mankind with ten thousand scourges. It was
Satan
, the abominable
serpent
, and it was
Eve
, in the blessed garden of peace, who brought the knowledge of
sin
and
death
and
despair
to the
thousand
generations that followed. We brought evil upon ourselves, and now that the
ultimate
evil walks the earth in this child’s body, it is our responsibility to deal with it ourselves. It is the
test of tests
, and the hope of all mankind rests with our ability to meet it!”
damning
lack of faith when you attribute cancer and death and other afflictions to our
Lord
, God of Heaven and earth. It was not
He
who brought evil to the earth and afflicted mankind with ten thousand scourges. It was
Satan
, the abominable
serpent
, and it was
Eve
, in the blessed garden of peace, who brought the knowledge of
sin
and
death
and
despair
to the
thousand
generations that followed. We brought evil upon ourselves, and now that the
ultimate
evil walks the earth in this child’s body, it is our responsibility to deal with it ourselves. It is the
test of tests
, and the hope of all mankind rests with our ability to meet it!”
The old woman’s fury had left Christine speechless, devoid of hope.
Spivey turned to Joey again and said, “I smell your putrescent heart. I feel your radiant evil. It’s a coldness that cuts right into my bones and vibrates there. Oh, I know you, all right. I
know
you.”
know
you.”
Fighting off panic that threatened to leave her as emotionally and mentally incapacitated as she was physically helpless, Christine wracked her mind for a plan, an idea. She was willing to try anything, no matter how pointless it seemed,
anything
, but she could think of nothing.
anything
, but she could think of nothing.
She saw that, in spite of his condition, Charlie had pulled himself into a sitting position. Weak as he was, overwhelmed by pain, any movement must have been an ordeal for him. He wouldn’t have pulled himself up without reason—would he? Maybe he had thought of the course of action which continued to elude Christine. That’s what she wanted to believe. That’s what she hoped with all her heart.
Other books
In Too Deep by Grant, D C
The Telling Error by Hannah, Sophie
Double Deuce by Robert B. Parker
Alien Commander's Bride by Scarlett Grove, Juno Wells
Doubtful Canon by Johnny D Boggs
Graven Images by Paul Fleischman
Costume Catastrophe (Zoe Donovan Mystery Book 21) by Kathi Daley
The Thieves of Faith by Richard Doetsch
Pointe of Breaking by Amy Daws, Sarah J. Pepper