Fear the Wicked (Illusions Series Book 2)

by Lily White

  Why?

  It was the same damn question on an endless loop, the one now screaming in my head as I lifted the metal box, brushed the errant dirt from the top and sat back to place it in my lap.

  The ice cold temperature of the metal seeped down into my jeans, an icy finger reaching down through my skin to trace the veins of regret and fear, anger and remorse, the memory of lashing and violations that scarred me. Phantom screams erupted inside my head, my brother’s young voice only quieted by my own, and as my fingers traced the latch holding the lid of that box closed, one more voice lifted up to remind me that my father’s abuse hadn’t been the only scorn we’d suffered.

  “Maybe if you two didn’t break the rules, he wouldn’t have to punish you.”

  “Shush, Jacob. Don’t speak of it in public. You’ll only destroy the family.”

  “It helps if you walk away and don’t listen. He’ll eventually stop and all will be silent again.”

  I wasn’t sure what was worse: my father’s abuse or my mother’s complacent acceptance. While he beat us down with fists and belts, she kept us silent while painting a picture of the perfect, Catholic family. My father’s abuse had been performed in anger, but what was her excuse? Fear? Or was it something else?

  My mother, Christy Samantha Hayle, had been a beauty queen when my father met her. According to the stories, at least. She had long brown hair and green eyes that sparkled in the sunlight. I remembered loving her as a child, gravitating to her before the darkness crept in to shadow her gaze. From birth until age five or six, my family had been absolutely normal. Yes, my father had still been a self-proclaimed Saint, a man who believed he wielded the might of God in his hand, but he hadn’t been abusive. It wasn’t until Jericho and I had been caught with that book that the abuse started.

  “Do you look at your mother that way, boy? With lustful eyes? The devil has gotten inside you. He’s filling you full of his evil.”

  Thinking back now as the memories flooded me, it was odd he’d dragged my mother into that accusation. We were just small boys, just innocent youth, but he’d immediately assaulted us with disgust. My mother. Why would a young boy ever look at his mother in that way? And why had my father assumed we had? In truth, all I knew about my cock at that time was that it was useful for pissing while standing up. It wasn’t until he’d made such a big deal of it that I’d become curious as to its other uses.

  Perhaps our curiosity had scared him. Our interest in the female body leading him to believe we’d been touched by some sinful thing. Whatever it was had shattered the happy illusions of a close-knit family, had crushed the belief that his undying faith could protect his sons from real life.

  I never saw my father hit my mother, never saw him threaten her or make her fear for her life. But I clearly remember the wineglass in her hand that, through the years, transitioned into a tumbler, a pint glass, a bottle. I’d grown to hate her more than my father’s angry fists just because she sat back and silently allowed it. Every time my brother cried out in pain, it wasn’t my father I’d wanted to punish…it was her.

  As it turned out, it wasn’t necessary for me to strike out at her, she’d taken care of that all on her own with the amount of alcohol she drank. It sapped the life out of her as the years churned on, destroying her on the outside as well as within.

  My mother wasn’t a beauty queen any longer by the time I left home. She was a shadow of the woman she’d once been, a victim of my father’s torment even if he’d never laid a hand on her.

  Staring down at the box, I flipped the latch and opened the top.

  What I thought would be a simple handwritten confession turned out to be so much more.

  ELIJAH

  The family slowly shuffled out of the sanctuary, single woman going through one door toward the women’s dorm, single males through another. Married couples were allowed to go back to their rooms together, because it wasn’t a sin for them to sleep together.

  I didn’t have to direct them where to go, they knew the routine, so I took the opportunity to train my gaze on the solitary person still sitting in his seat struggling to understand why I’d brought him here in the first place.

  Slowly meandering down the aisle, I inclined my head toward those people who complimented the sermon, smiled when appropriate and carried myself in such a way that nobody would notice my level of excitement. Reaching Gentry’s chair, I hovered for a bit before finally training my gaze on him.

  “Did you like the sermon tonight? I’ll admit it was somewhat tame compared to the normal family meetings.” My smile didn’t reach my eyes, but it didn’t much matter. There was no telling what my features looked like to a man whose pupils were twice their normal size and whose pulse was visible beneath his skin. I watched that flutter of blood flow on his throat and knew he was feeling just fine.

  His fingers drummed over his thigh, his expression somewhat strained yet contemplative. “I heard the same thing at the parish, I’m not sure how any of this will help me in my situation. You promised results, Father Hayle. How will you get them by just talking?”

  I hadn’t promised anything during our conversation earlier that day, but I didn’t feel the need to correct him.

  “I haven’t finished showing you what I have here. A lot of it you’ll need to see during the day. You are still interested in the gardens, correct?”

  Nodding his head, he was doing his best for it not to appear uncoordinated and jerky. Another hour or so would help his body ease back into a normal state, just in time for him to drive, but until then, I planned to take full advantage of his altered mentality.

  “That’s good,” I replied, “so we’ll save that for when we have the sun to light our way. Tonight, however, won’t be a complete loss. My family found something very interesting in town and decided to bring it back to show me.”

  His dilated gaze pinned me in place. “Interesting, how?”

  Feigning ignorance, I shrugged my shoulders. “I’m not quite sure, they only told me before I gave my sermon. Would you like to come with me to find out?”

  Gentry stood from his chair, perfectly steady on his feet, but his reddened skin still gave away the high blood pressure making him shaky. Waving my hand at my side, I sauntered off without hurry, “Follow me this way.”

  The excitement thrumming through me was almost too much to bear because I knew what Gentry would now see could only cement him to my cause. Pretending like it was new to me as well as him was an important factor in this game, as it would create the illusion that I was just as shocked as him.

  Turning a corner, I led him down a narrow hall, a low sound growing louder as we approached another door. Turning, I raised a brow to Gentry, my mouth cocked and unsure about the peculiar noise. “Does that sound like a man screaming to you?”

  He nodded, his concerned eyes darting toward the door.

  I made a point to look between him and the closed door several times, before suggesting, “I think you should stay here while I find out what’s going on.”

  Adding urgency to my words, I pivoted on my heel and stepped forward as if to leave him behind, but his hand slapped over my arm, his grip preventing me from moving forward. “I want to see whatever it is.”

  Looking between the door and his face, I shook my head, still playing up the refusal. I needed him to truly want to see this, to feel as if he’d forced the issue rather than having been led to see something I planned to show him all along.

  “I’m sorry, Gentry, but I don’t know what’s occurring. It could be dangerous…”

  “How so? I’m a strong man. I can defend myself.”

  The screaming became a primal roar. Stifling my laughter, I made a mental note to give Richard a very special reward for whatever he’d done to force a sound like that out of the businessman’s mouth. It was pure, undiluted rage bellowing out from the cage.

  Without dropping the role of a concerned priest, I turned to place a hand on Gentry’s shoulder. “It’s not jus
t your physical wellbeing I’m concerned about. In situations such as this, the potential for something I’m sure you’ve never seen, I’m more worried about your spiritual wellbeing.”

  “I’m a devout man. God is with me.”

  “Is he?” I pondered aloud, my lips turning down into a frown when all I wanted to do was grin like a madman. “Your crops are failing. Your home is about to be taken from you by the bank…”

  His eyes widened, the dilated pupils like two black mirrors reflecting my face back to me. “That’s not my fault. The evil in this world is attacking me. Like you said. But it has nothing to do with lack of faith on my end.”

  There wasn’t an ounce of doubt in his words. Pleased to see he was fully on my side now, that I’d handed him the Kool-aid and he’d swallowed it down greedily, I relaxed my posture and looked at him as if considering whether I would allow him to follow or not. The passage of those several seconds while I stood presumably in concern as to whether to let him walk with me only cemented his devotion to the cause.

  Lowering my voice as another roar bellowed from behind the door, I forced so much fear and concern into my voice that Gentry would have had to been deaf and dumb to miss it.

  “Fine. I’ll let you come with me, but I need you to protect yourself. You need to pray, Mr. Holmes. You need to surround yourself in the Holy Spirit, and if your faith so much as wobbles while you’re in there, I need you to walk out immediately, to go far away as fast as your feet can possibly carry you.”

  His eyes rounded even more, his pupils dilating with fear and uncertainty. Until all color in his iris was gone. “What is going on back there, Father Hayle?”

  Breathing out a heavy sigh, I glanced between him and the door, my shoulders shaking with soft laughter that I passed off as fear. “Do you remember what I showed you last night? The woman infected with lust?”

  He nodded, his Adam’s apple dipping low as he swallowed hard.

  “I suspect what we’re about to see is far worse than that woman.” Pausing, I let that thought sink in before saying, “I hope I’m wrong-”

  Another roar sounded. I closed my eyes and opened them again.

  “But it sounds like the situation - the evil - is much worse than I realized.”

  “Dear God,” he muttered, understanding sinking in as he turned his gaze to the closed door.

  I stepped toward the door, stopping again before touching the handle. “Keep praying, Mr. Holmes. And if you feel yourself sliding into doubt, you need to leave.”

  He nodded his head and rolled his shoulders back with the resolve to stare evil in the eyes. My fingers wrapped over the handle, shoving down to open the door. The businessman’s voice bellowed even louder now that there was no barrier to muffle it.

  Stepping through the doorway slowly, I kept Gentry at my back as if cautiously surveying the scene before allowing him to enter. I made a point to lock eyes with Richard where he stood next to the large cage that held the man. He approached immediately, feigning urgency and consternation.

  Good, I thought, he set the stage perfectly.

  “Father Hayle,” he called out, adding such speed to his words that no person would doubt he was afraid. “You have to see this. Thank God you came when you did. The man, he-”

  “Let me through, Father.” Gentry’s voice was resolute in his demand that I step further inside so he could follow. My shoulders and head were still blocking his view.

  Richard paused in his rush toward me when I held up a hand. Keeping my face trained on the scene he’d staged, I risked a smile while Gentry couldn’t see my expression. It was lovely, so much more than I’d expected.

  Stepping back, I forced Gentry to do the same so I could slam the door closed. I rested a shoulder against the wood, my head bowed as I made the Sign of the Cross over my body. Eyes clenched shut, I fought not to peek at Gentry’s face. He needed to believe I was frightened of what I saw.

  “What is it, Father Hayle? What did you see?”

  “I can’t take you in there,” I breathed out, fear and apology in my voice. “I’m sorry, Mr. Holmes, but I’ve never seen anything like that.”

  Chancing a peek at his face, I smiled inwardly to see determined rage written across his expression. By now his interest must have been at its highest, mere curiosity transitioning into a driving need to know he can face evil and walk away unscathed. Hesitant interest had now become full blown belief. Sometimes playing with a person’s mind was far too easy, but then I’d had many years of practice.

  “Fine. I’ll allow you in, but you can’t show weakness in the face of what you’ll see. You need to stay at my side, Gentry, and if you feel your faith failing, you need to leave. Otherwise-”

  “Otherwise, what? Are you accusing me of being weak in my faith in God?”

  “No,” I answered, shaking my head. “I’m only attempting to prepare you fully.”

  “I’m prepared,” he growled.

  Inclining my head, I caved in to his demands. “Then follow me.”

  Playing into his ego had worked perfectly. He was now prepared to believe exactly what I had to show him. I’d even be willing to bet he’d argue with me if I told him it wasn’t a demon infecting the raging man trapped in his cage.

  Too easy. The human mind was far too easy to toy with.

  Opening the door again, I stepped inside and indicated for Richard to hang back, to remain quiet while Gentry took in the scene. The room was nothing special. Scratched white walls that could use a fresh coat, white tile floors that were also worn down and scuffed, a high ceiling lined by air conditioning ducts and exposed electrical made the space utilitarian in its design. Seated in the middle of the large room that had once been used for storage was a large cage just tall and wide enough for a man to pace back and forth without having to stoop. On a normal day, it wouldn’t be a shocking or disturbing sight, but the same couldn’t be said for today.

  The first feature to draw the eye was the crimson splash of blood on the floors bordering the cage. Dripping slowly from the base, it formed a small pool that spread across the tile, slowly working its way down the grout until small streams went in several directions. A copper scent tinged the air, my eyes dragging up to a drugged man screaming and raging in his cage. Dragging my gaze to another drugged man, I grinned to see his wide eyed reaction.

  Too fucking easy.

  Richard approached me while Gentry remained frozen in place.

  “What is this?” I asked, intentionally speaking loud enough for Gentry to hear. Richard played along perfectly.

  “Several of the family members brought him in. He wasn’t like this at first, Father, but he got worse almost as soon as he was brought into the compound. We had no choice but to cage him.”

  It wasn’t a complete lie, the man had gotten much worse since being brought in. I had to fight to contain my laughter.

  “You should have seen what he did to his own daughter,” Richard continued, “I’m surprised the girl is still alive.”

  She would remain alive, I was sure, at least until Richard grew tired of her.

  Gentry was listening as he stepped closer to the cage. His eyes took in the feral man, his head struggling to understand what he was seeing. The drug I’d slipped to the businessman had worked better than I’d anticipated. Turning him into a practical monster, the effect was damn near stunning.

  Why any person would intentionally ingest such a substance was beyond me. But they did, those addicts seeking their next high, and they were normally found on the side of the road covered in their own blood or that of a loved one.

  His eyes catching sight of some strange lump at the bottom of the cage, Gentry jumped back and covered his mouth with his hand, his skin losing all color as he realized what he’d seen.

  I had to jump into character once again to play the shocked and concerned priest. “What? What is it?”

  Still covering his mouth with one hand, he pointed at the cage with the other. His voice was muffled as he a
ttempted to speak around his trembling fingers. “H - His tongue. I think he bit off his own tongue!”

  Bit off, or had it otherwise removed, I thought. Not that it made a difference. Shit, this was going better than I could have dreamed.

  My eyes widened with the proper amount of horror, my hand coming down to rest on Gentry’s shoulder. “We all need to leave. We can’t stay here and watch this. We need -”

  “To put that poor man out of his misery,” Gentry finished for me.

  My fingers gripped tighter over his shoulder. “We should pray over him. Try to relieve him of whatever evil has infected him.”

  It was my mistake not to consider the area in which I lived before setting up this particular game. Here in rural Appalachia, there were all sorts of threats to avoid. Wild animals on the search for food, coyotes on the hunt for livestock, venomous snakes coiled and ready to strike when you take a wrong step. Most residents understood these dangers. They took steps to protect themselves, often choosing to carry a weapon that would quickly give them the advantage.

  Take an armed man, drug him with an amphetamine and then plant him in the face of danger. It would have been a horrible idea if I didn’t love the what occurred next so much. Before I could understand what Gentry was reaching behind his back to do, he’d already pulled the gun from the waistband of his jeans, cocked it and pointed it without giving me a second to get one last word out.

  The hammer dropped, and so did Mr. Businessman, the loud blast of the gun nearly deafening me.

  Good God, how I fought not to fall apart with laughter. Only the true Almighty could have dreamed up such wonderful results.

  My jaw dropped in feigned shock, my hand falling away from Gentry’s shoulder as I stared down at the dead man in a cage. “What have you done?” I whispered, my soft voice carrying through the room now that the man was no longer screaming.

  The .45 shook in his grip, the realization that he’d killed a man sinking deeper into his mind and thoughts. “I -” Gentry looked at me, his gaze pleading and unsure. “He needed to die, Father. What kind of life is that? Possessed? Without his fucking tongue!”