Bitter Falls

by Caine, Rachel

  “No!” Harmony shouts, and takes his gun. She throws it away. “No weapons! No weapons!”

  She’s right. The FBI’s out there. If we come out with guns and knives, they’re going to think we’re the problem.

  I put the bolt cutters down. Harmony puts her knife down. She grabs Rose, disarms her, and puts the woman’s hand in that of a little, crying boy. Then she shoves them out the open gate. Then Remy. Then one by one the other women and children.

  She turns to me and Vee, and coughs out, “Go!”

  “You first,” Vee says.

  Harmony vanishes through the gate. I can’t breathe, I have snot running down my face, and tears, and I want to throw up. I turn and pick up the bolt cutters again. Vee stiff-arms me back. “The fuck are you goin’, boy?”

  “Dad,” I croak.

  She takes the bolt cutters away and tosses them into the mist. I yell and swing at her; she ducks. She’s coughing and gagging, too, but she manages to say, “Your dad’s okay. We have to go.” Then she’s dragging me through the gate and into clearer air, and FBI agents are shouting at us to keep moving, keep moving, hands up, keep moving, and I’m stumbling and falling to one knee. I look back at the big steel fence, the closed gates, and I hear something weird.

  They’re singing in there.

  Father Tom’s people have stopped shooting. They’re singing some kind of hymn. Mostly men’s voices, but I can hear some pure, high notes. Some of the women too. The ones who wouldn’t leave. The true believers.

  The FBI has us sit down on the side of the road, and they wash our faces and give us oxygen masks, and I start feeling better after a few minutes. It’s dark out here, cold, and the singing hangs in the air like the tear gas clouds. A few more people come out of the side gate. None of them are my dad, and I tell the man rinsing my face a second time that I need to go back in, that my dad is Sam Cade and he’s in there and they have to find him.

  “Connor?” A big man in a dark windbreaker kneels down next to me. “Connor Proctor?” I nod. I don’t know him. “I’m Agent Torres. Special Agent Lustig asked me to find you and stay with you. You all right?”

  I have no idea. I don’t know what all right means anymore. The burning in my eyes is gone, but I keep crying. Is that all right? Is this feeling all right? I don’t even know what it is. Only that I’m so tired I want to sleep, and at the same time I have to go back. “My dad’s still in there,” I say. “He’s still in there.” I start to get up.

  Agent Torres puts his hand on my shoulder and pushes me down. “Agent Lustig and several teams are already over the wall, and they’ll bring him out. You stay here.” He stands up and looks toward the fence. He seems tense and worried, and I realize it’s probably because of the singing. They shouldn’t be doing that. They ought to be surrendering.

  His radio crackles, and he answers it. “Status?” he asks. I’m close enough to hear the reply from the other end.

  “They’ve retreated into the church building. It’s rigged to blow. We’re working on it now.”

  “How many in the church?”

  “Maybe twenty-five men and women, no children we can see. We’ve disarmed two devices. Just one to go. Advise Agent Lustig that the leader is not, repeat, is not in the church.”

  “Wait one.” The agent pushes buttons on his radio and says, “Special Agent Lustig, please be advised that explosive devices are in place at the church and are currently being defused, but the cult leader is still at large, do you copy that?”

  “Copy,” the radio says. “Did you locate Connor Proctor? Sam Cade?”

  Agent Torres cuts a look toward me, and I feel sick all over again when I realize what he’s about to say. “We have Connor Proctor safe, sir. No trace yet of Sam Cade.”

  “Acknowledged, Lustig out.”

  I lick my dry, still-tingling lips and say, “Check the shed, the one at the end of the concrete building. He’s in there, I think. Or at the lake. He could be at the lake.” I hope he isn’t. I don’t even want to think why he would be, but I remember seeing him there, seeing that last look he gave me, and even though my eyes are burning and leaking, now I know I’m crying for real. Dad, please. Please be okay. Please.

  Torres passes what I said along. Before we get an answer, the radio says, “All clear at the church. Located another device in another building, but it’s empty and—”

  In the next second, there’s an explosion that tears the whole night to pieces, and it’s big enough to send pieces of wood and concrete flying through the air up, out, every direction. We all duck and cover, and when I look, part of the fence is mangled and bent from the force of it. My ears are ringing, and I just stare numbly at the fire rising on the other side of the gate.

  Nobody is singing anymore, not that I can hear.

  “Jesus, tell me that wasn’t the church,” Agent Torres says into his radio.

  But I already know the answer. It was too close. They’ve blown up the Garden. And if not for Sister Harmony, they’d have killed all the women and children inside it.

  “Devices in the church confirmed rendered safe,” the radio says. The agent on the other end sounds unsteady. “We pulled back before the building blew, no casualties. Those in the church being taken into custody now. Not putting up a fight.”

  They didn’t manage to kill themselves. That’s good.

  But we haven’t got my dad.

  I stare off at the fire until Vee puts her arm around me. “It’s okay, Connor,” she says. Vee Crockett. Comforting me.

  “Yeah,” I agree. I don’t mean it.

  Because it isn’t.

  28

  GWEN

  I think nothing will stop me from getting to my son, but something does. I’m running up the path from the lake, exhausted, legs like jelly, my lungs aching from exertion; I’ve shed my tank and mask and regulator, but I’m cold. So cold. I’m forcing speed from my unsteady body and am halfway up the hill when there’s an explosion that whites out the night and sends me staggering, and the sound claps my ears an instant after. Like lightning striking. It hits me like an ax to the chest and nearly sends me to my knees. Connor. My son is there. I can’t believe that he was in that fireball. No. I can’t. I need to find him.

  I realize that there’s someone walking toward me, coming down the path away from that hellish flame reddening the night. And he’s singing. I recognize the hymn. Yes we’ll gather at the river, the beautiful, the beautiful river.

  He’s got a beautiful voice, and it feels like the worst joke of all that this man can create something so lovely.

  He sees me standing in his path, dripping wet. I’m aiming my gun at him, and he stops singing. “Who are you?” I ask him. He stops walking. I’m boiling with rage and terror, but outside I’m completely still. Completely steady.

  He slowly raises his hands. “My name is Father Tom. I surrender.” Father Tom. He looks almost angelic in the moonlight. But I know he isn’t.

  “Where’s my son?” I ask him. My voice sounds almost quiet.

  “Gina Royal. I knew you’d come. Well, if there’s any God in heaven, your son is in hell,” Father Tom says, and I hear the awful, smug delight in that. It shatters me like that explosion shattered the night, and for an incandescent moment I imagine emptying a clip into his face until I obliterate it, until there’s nothing left of him but blood and shards, and then I will reload and keep shooting.

  I break free of that with a gasp and realize my finger is a microtwitch from making it a reality. I can’t, because he did not say my son was dead. He said, If there’s any God in heaven. But he wouldn’t hesitate to tell me directly that Connor was dead. I have to believe that. I have to, or I’ll lose my mind completely.

  He slowly lowers himself to his knees. He winces a little, and smiles. “Old bones. I’m not the man I was.” If he’s trying to convince me he’s a human being, he fails. He’s playing with me. “You brought evil into our garden, just as women always do. You’re Lilith and Eve and the serpen
t all in one. You’re the mother of all sins.”

  I walk right up to him, crouch down, and shove the gun under his chin. “Including murder,” I say. “Did you kill my son?”

  “He was in the Garden,” he says, and I see hell in the smile that spreads across his lips. “The Garden and our meeting hall are ashes now. Go sift through them and find what you can.”

  I hate this man; I hate him more than I’ve ever hated anyone in my life. Even Melvin. I want to rip him to pieces, and I can do it with a touch of my finger. No effort at all.

  “That isn’t an answer,” I tell him. “Did. You kill. My son.”

  He’s gone pallid now. For all his grinning and pretense, he’s afraid of something. Not the gun. Not that I’ll kill him.

  He’s afraid that I won’t.

  “Yes,” he says. “I did. He’s with the saints.” He looks toward the lake.

  And I know he’s lying.

  “You’ve got a way out of here,” I guess, and I know I’m right, because for the first time I see surprise flash in his eyes. “A secret only you keep. Where is it, near the lake? Behind the waterfall? Doesn’t matter. You’re not getting to it.” I stand up and back away, still aiming. “Where’s my son, you asshole?”

  I hear footsteps on the path. See flashlights. “Gwen!” It’s Mike Lustig’s voice. The FBI’s here. I don’t relax, but I feel the warm curl of relief. I can get Connor now. I can get out of here. We’ve made it.

  “I killed your son before I left,” Father Tom says. “With my own hands. And he died crying.”

  The only thing that saves his life is Lustig shouting, at the same time, “We’ve got Connor, he’s safe!” And I take my finger off the trigger because I might still shoot, and the second the FBI agents arrive, I crouch down and put the gun on the ground and cover my face with my hands and scream, scream out the fury and frustration and overwhelming relief.

  I feel Lustig’s hand heavy my shoulder. “Where’s Sam?” he asks.

  I take a deep breath and look up at him. “Safe. SUV on the south side of the compound, where you stationed us. We got to him before he drowned. He’s safe.”

  My voice breaks on that last, and I feel the first stirrings of real hope.

  “Come on,” he says, and pats my back this time. “Let me take you to your son.”

  We pass Father Tom lying on the ground, face in the dirt, screaming as the FBI handcuffs him. I’m glad I didn’t shoot him.

  I want him to suffer.

  29

  GWEN

  I never want to let my son out of the embrace I wrap around him. I hold him so close, for so long, that he finally squirms in discomfort, and I let go. “Dad—” he says. There are tears in his eyes. On his face. I gently wipe them away, even as I know he can see that I’m crying too.

  “He’s on the way to the hospital,” I tell him. “He’s going to be okay. He’s cold, and he’s got a wound they need to treat. But he’s going to be all right.” I don’t know that, but I have to believe it. J. B.’s brought Lanny, Kez, and Javier, and I hug them all. I cling to Javier a little longer and say, “Without you, I’d have lost him.”

  “Make sure you tell him that,” he says. “He was bitching about learning to scuba dive. Soon as he’s better, he has to take the full course. You too. You fumble around like a puppy.”

  I laugh and hug him again. “I promise,” I tell him. “As soon as I get a few other things straight.”

  He nods and takes Kezia back to the SUV. They want to take Connor in an ambulance, too; it’s a close fit inside, with the paramedic, the two of us, two women from the compound, and an FBI agent. Connor tells me the blonde woman is Sister Harmony, and a woman with a gunshot wound is Sister Rose. They look exhausted and disoriented, but Harmony looks at my son and says, “We did it.”

  Connor nods. “Where are you going to go?”

  Harmony blinks. “I—I don’t know.” She smiles, and I don’t know that I’ve ever seen anything like it before. Wonder and fear and hope all at once. “Somewhere else. Isn’t that amazing?”

  Sam’s being rushed to surgery as we arrive, but he’s conscious enough to grab Connor’s hand on the way, and he gives us both a weak, too-pale smile. We have to stop at the door. It’s a long few hours in the waiting room with Kez, Javier, Lanny, and J. B., and I’m shocked to see Vee Crockett join us. “I was looking for you,” Connor says, and hugs her. “Where’d you go?”

  “I got the fuck out,” she says, and slides a glance toward me. “Sorry. I had to ghost before they made me go back to foster care. They’re probably pretty mad.”

  “Probably?” Connor snorts and shakes his head. “They’re going to come and get you. They want to talk to everyone who was in there. Including you.”

  “Including you,” I repeat, staring at Vee. “How the hell did you get there?”

  “She stole a truck,” Connor says. “She knows how to hot-wire cars. She did it to the RV and—”

  I hold up a hand, still watching Vee Crockett. “I don’t want to know. You’re okay?”

  She lifts one shoulder. “Sure.”

  She isn’t, really. None of us are. But we’re all pretending hard.

  She’s surprised when I hug her tight, and when she relaxes into it and hugs me back, I feel her shudder in relief. “I’m okay,” she whispers. This time, I think she means it.

  Sam comes out of surgery without complications.

  Two days later, we want to take him home, but Kez tells us that home probably isn’t where we need to go now. She shows us pictures. There’s an army of reporters camped by the lake. There’s graffiti on our garage door and the side of the house. Somebody’s broken out the front window and tossed in paint. We’re infamous. Again.

  And I let it go. Finally, completely, I let it go. Norton. All the people wanting me to leave. My instinctive need for control, for defiance.

  I don’t need Stillhouse Lake anymore. I have what I need right here. All around me.

  J. B. facilitates the return of Remy Landry to his parents at the hospital, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen three people come alive like that. Remy is a shadow of the photos I’ve seen, down to skin and bones and raw will, but he’s survived the impossible. And so have his parents. I can see the joy ignite in all of them, and it makes me feel all this has almost, almost been worth that.

  There are seven bodies retrieved from the pond at the first Assembly of Saints compound. Another ten emerge from the lake at Bitter Falls, including the body of Vernon Carr, the leader of the Wolfhunter cult, who’d run to Father Tom for protection. He hadn’t found the welcome he expected.

  I get an anonymous postcard delivered to me via J. B. Hall’s offices. It’s handwritten in a childish scrawl, and it says, Thank u for my life. There’s a big, flowing D at the end. D for Daria. I don’t look at the postmark. I don’t want to know. I shred it.

  We go to therapy twice a week. All five of us, including Vee. It helps.

  Sam and I put in adoption papers. He’s adopting my kids, formally, as my partner. And we help Vee put in paperwork to become an emancipated minor. She’ll be staying with us, at least until she can find her own way. Lanny and Vee seem to gravitate toward each other like magnets, and yes, I worry about that. Vee’s got a long way to go to get to stable.

  We definitely need to find a house big enough to contain the drama.

  The last thing before we leave Stillhouse Lake, I handwrite a note and mail it to Lilah Belldene. It says, I keep my word.

  I’m not surprised when I don’t get anything in reply. Life goes on. We have Father Tom’s trial to prep for. A new home to find.

  And like Sister Harmony, I don’t know what’s coming next.

  And that’s amazing.

  SOUNDTRACK

  Music inspires me and carries me forward through the long and sometimes difficult process of writing a book like this, with so much intensity and emotion. So here are the songs I’ve chosen that help me stay in the world with these characters. If y
ou like them, please support the artists and buy their music.

  “Monsters,” Shinedown

  “Forever & Ever More,” Nothing But Thieves

  “Split In Two,” Broken Hands

  “What Happened to You,” Black Honey

  “Get Up,” Shinedown

  “Some Kind of Rage,” MONA

  “Gods,” Nothing But Thieves

  “Rolling with the Punches,” The Blue Stones

  “Graveyard Whistling,” Nothing But Thieves

  “Ghost,” Badflower

  “Do Your Worst,” Rival Sons

  “Live Like Animals,” Nothing But Thieves

  “Holding Out for a Hero,” Nothing But Thieves

  “Pressure,” Muse

  “Propaganda,” Muse

  “Sorry,” Nothing But Thieves

  “Lowly Deserter,” Glen Hansard

  “Philander,” Glen Hansard

  “Take the Heartland,” Glen Hansard

  “Who by Fire,” Leonard Cohen

  “The Next Voice You Hear,” Jackson Browne

  “Morning Mr. Magpie,” Radiohead

  “Season of the Witch,” Donovan

  “It’s Not Too Late,” T. Bone Burnett

  “Poison in the Water,” Von Grey

  “Even the Devil Gets It Right Someday,” Chris McDermott

  “Karma (Hardline),” Jamie N. Commons

  “Rumble and Sway,” Jamie N. Commons

  “The Preacher,” Jamie N. Commons

  “Last,” Nine Inch Nails

  “Blood Like Lemonade,” Morcheeba

  “Run Boy Run,” Woodkid

  “I Love You,” Woodkid

  “Ghost Lights,” Woodkid

  “The Other Side,” Woodkid

  “In the Air Tonight,” Joseph William Morgan

  “Enjoy the Ride,” Morcheeba

  “Change,” The Revivalists

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Photo © 2014 Robert Hart

  Rachel Caine is the New York Times, USA Today, Wall Street Journal, and Amazon Charts bestselling author of more than fifty novels, including Wolfhunter River, Killman Creek, and Stillhouse Lake in the Stillhouse Lake series; the New York Times bestselling Morganville Vampires series; and the Great Library young adult series. She has written suspense, mystery, paranormal suspense, urban fantasy, science fiction, and paranormal young adult fiction. Rachel lives and works in Fort Worth, Texas, with her husband, artist/actor/comic historian R. Cat Conrad, in a gently creepy house full of books. For more information, visit www.rachelcaine.com.