Fear the Wicked (Illusions Series Book 2)

by Lily White

  It was five minutes until eight and the men in the family were shuffling into the sanctuary to take their seats. Richard had done well to keep the women and children occupied elsewhere in the building.

  My sermon tonight would wake up the bloodthirsty monsters hidden inside the hearts of the faithful. It amused me to think that despite what is written in the Good Lord’s Bible, these people still called for war and pain, death and destruction, believing it was the only way to bring peace upon the Earth.

  Perhaps in the Old Testament, that sentiment was true, but the New Testament was softer and more forgiving. It’s why I didn’t read much from the book that discussed Jesus, and I kept going back to read from the passages that made these believers feel justified in a holy war. It was all in how the material was delivered, and that fact wasn’t only true for the way in which I led the family. Judgment and hate, fear and condemnation runs rampant in every domination that subscribes to the Christian Christ.

  Just look at the way people are judged for their sins. Look at how entire groups of people are shunned and considered not worthy. It’s in the churches and Sunday Schools, in politics and religious skirmishes. Even in a day where we should be more cognizant of how different groups should get along, there is still fighting and judging, condemning and shaming – a practice that goes against what their dead Christ had told us.

  It’s the reason I couldn’t practice a faith in a God who was nothing but lies. Religion wasn’t a vehicle used to save humanity when entrusted into the hands of man. It was nothing more than a political power play, a balm soothed over the hearts of the masses while the wolves crept in to rip them apart.

  I’d trusted the holy when I’d attended my childhood parish. And look what that trust had done to me.

  Jacob had asked the question why over and over again during the time he was the focus of my games. If he’d searched deep enough, he would have discovered the truth of why I was doing any of this.

  Revenge is a stone cold monster that settles in the belly rolling endlessly until you were so tired of living with it churning in your gut you finally acted to get rid of it. Some carried the need to get even until it ate at them and poisoned them, following into their early deaths, while other men like myself thought hard about how to attain it.

  Twelve years is a long time to put a plan together and play it out to its end. But for something as big as I had planned, I needed to learn to be patient.

  The shuffling of feet stopped as every man had taken their seat giving me the cue that it was time to move forward. Reaching the altar, I stood at the makeshift pulpit and delivered a message of death and slaughter.

  For each word I spoke, the men’s eyes grew wider, their shoulders becoming tense with the need to fight for their God. I opened their mouths and shoved down the hallmarks of violence into their full bellies and greedy minds.

  I spoke for an hour, closing the sermon with prayers to the Almighty, and then watched as they sauntered off back to their duties to the compound. I wouldn’t need them again, at least not tonight, while I tested whether what the sheriff had promised would actually be accomplished.

  At ten on the dot, a family member ran to grab me claiming the sheriff was outside the compound demanding to be let in. I instructed the family member to lead him inside, to deliver him to the sanctuary where I would be waiting.

  Waiting patiently as the family member ran off to lead the sheriff in, I leaned against the pulpit and shoved my hands in my pockets. Staring down at my shoes, I only lifted my head again when I heard the sound of footsteps storming in.

  I almost laughed to look up and see the sheriff dragging in a man who was both confused and angry for being here.

  “What the fuck?” he bellowed from the floor where he was being dragged by the back of his shirt. “You brought me to church?”

  “Shut up, you piece of shit,” the sheriff roared back before kicking the man in the ribs. He dropped him like a sack of flour and I’d almost expected the man to split at the sides and release his innards all over the carpet.

  Unable to smile as I was still playing the part of the solemn priest, I pushed off the pulpit where I’d been leaning and slowly walked toward the sheriff and his captive.

  “Sheriff Holmes,” I greeted him, extending a hand out. He shook it and settled his weight over his feet. We were about the same height, but his build was more broad and thick than mine.

  “Call me James,” he said before casting a pointed glance down at the man still lying on the carpet. “I’m not sure you can do much with this one. The son of a bitch was caught raping a girl behind the dumpster of a liquor store. It seems he likes to prey on women that make the mistake of being caught in an empty part of town.”

  I wasn’t sure what liquor store he was referring to, but I assumed it was at the edge of the county. We were living in the center of the Bible Belt and due to our strict adherence to scripture and God’s rule, there weren’t too many places that sold liquor anywhere close to our town.

  Kneeling down, I looked the man in the face and smiled a gentle grin. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you to respect women, son? God doesn’t like it when you harm people for your own lustful sin.”

  “Fuck you!” He yelled, his hand grabbing at his side where James had previously kicked him. I angled my head in response and tsked my tongue against the roof of my mouth.

  “And here I was wanting to help you.”

  “Just take me to jail,” he roared again, this time getting kicked again for the outburst.

  “You won’t be seeing jail, you sick son of a bitch. I’m tired of assholes like you in my county.”

  Standing up, I glanced between the condemned man and the sheriff, careful to keep my expression blank and resigned. Lowering my voice so that only James could hear me, I asked, “And what makes you think this man is infected with evil?”

  James looked at me like I was an idiot. “Did you not hear me? He was raping a woman. Thankfully his hand slipped and she screamed loud enough for the store attendant to hear her. If he hadn’t been outside on his way to the exterior bathroom, this son of a bitch would have finished the job and been off to rape another innocent woman.”

  “She asked for it!” The criminal yelled. He shut up when James kicked him in the head.

  Rolling his eyes, James stared me right in the eye and said, “They always claim the woman wanted it. Every fucking time. I guess they don’t realize that the word no and the tears and fighting mean the woman isn’t really into it.”

  My lips tipped down into a frown, my eyes narrowing with feigned disgust. What the sheriff didn’t seem to know is that, sometimes, the crying and fighting is half the fun. It wasn’t that we didn’t know the woman didn’t want it. Hell, for most of us, that was the best part.

  I wouldn’t be the one to tell him that. Being a priest, I assumed raping and killing was frowned upon.

  “I tell you what, James: why don’t we take this man into the back so I can see if there’s a way to save his soul before we do anything more drastic. I’m still not sure I’m a hundred percent on board with all this. I hate to see any life extinguished that can be saved.”

  James looked at me with disapproval behind his eyes, but eventually conceded to my concern. “You’re too soft, Priest, but I guess that’s understandable given your profession. Maybe one day I can drive you around with me so you can see the crime scenes and broken lives these bastards leave behind.”

  Biting my lip to keep from laughing, I answered, “I’m sure that can be arranged, but for now, let’s try it my way. At least I’ll feel better knowing I did something to save this man from Satan’s grip.”

  “What?” The criminal in question was now sitting up with his head cradled in his hands. Looking up at us, there was pure fear running behind his eyes. “What the fuck are you two talking about? What the fuck is this creepy ass place?”

  James grabbed him by the hair and jerked him up off the floor. “I thought I told you to shut your fu
cking mouth.”

  A door at our back swung open before we could escort the criminal from the room, and the soft gasp of breath that followed immediately after had me turning around to find Eve standing at the opposite side of the room.

  “Eve?”

  I moved toward her quickly, hoping like hell Gentry hadn’t described the woman possessed by lust to his brother. A quick glance at James told me he didn’t recognize her. Reaching her, I laid my hand on her shoulder and lowered my voice to a whisper. “Eve, you shouldn’t be in here. Why aren’t you sleeping?”

  Her eyes were focused over my shoulder when she answered, “I couldn’t sleep after you left. I was too restless.” She grew quiet for a second, still staring at where James stood with the condemned. Her voice was shaking when she asked, “What is he doing here?”

  Turning, I glanced back at James and wondered if Eve had ever met him. Not remembering when that could have happened, I returned my focus to her and gripped her chin to direct her face to mine. “He, who?”

  Her bottom lip trembled and tears welled in her eyes. “That’s him, Elijah. The man from the road. The one who tried to…”

  Her voice trailed off and I knew instantly who the bastard was that James had dragged in.

  I couldn’t thank the universe enough for that small coincidence. Keeping my voice soft, I confirmed it again. “That’s the man that made you take your clothes off on the side of the road? The one who tried to touch you?”

  Her eyes locked to mine, her brows pulling together in confusion. “Yes. Don’t you remember? You were there.”

  Shit. It never even occurred to me that Jacob had been there that night. Or, as far as Eve knew, I had been there to rescue her.

  “Of course, I remember, it’s why we brought him in. I need you to go back to bed, beautiful girl. You don’t need to witness what we’re doing.”

  Her gaze had drifted back to where the two men stood, but at my response, it darted back to me. “Elijah. I don’t understand. What are you going to do with him?”

  “He raped another woman, Eve. We can’t let a demon like him continue roaming the streets and looking for other people to hurt like he hurt you. You know this is God’s plan. You know I’m supposed to stop these men. You helped me learn about him the night he found you wandering and now we’ll deal with him so he can’t hurt again.”

  Her hair shifted over her shoulder as she nodded her head. Quietly turning to leave the room, she walked back through the door without another word.

  When I finally turned back to walk over to James and the condemned, I had a renewed bounce to my step. Knowing who this bastard was would only make my job more entertaining.

  “Let me show you back to the cages, James. You can lock him inside where you know he’ll be safe and give me some time to see if I can save him.”

  “And what if you can’t?”

  “Then we’ll decide how to deal with him.”

  Appeased by that response, James led the man, kicking and screaming, through the large sanctuary, past the crosses, and down a hall that led to the room where Gentry had killed a man right in front of my eyes. I had no intentions for this son of a bitch to live past tonight, but in an effort to appear as Godly as possible – not to mention the fun to be had toying with him – I kept up the appearance of a concerned priest. If it’s true that Jacob made a mess of this asshole on the side of the road, I wondered how it was he didn’t recognize me.

  I’d find out soon enough, but before I could question him, I needed James to lock him safely away. In truth, I could handle the asshole myself, but fighting wasn’t exactly the typical behavior of a priest.

  It made me laugh to think Jacob had gotten away with it, that he’d hidden his violence in the week it had taken him to go mad.

  Opening the door, I held it for James to drag the man through, and remained unmoving until I heard the metal door of the cage snap shut. James passed me again on his way out and made a small motion for me to follow him back into the hall.

  The door closed behind us before he breathed the first word. “Do you really think you can save this guy? I’m almost positive today wasn’t the first time he hurt a woman.”

  Positive of the same thing myself, I smiled kindly and touched his shoulder. “At least let me try, Sheriff Holmes. God would want that. You can’t let yourself forget that all sin should be forgiven, unless of course the evil has sunk so far in that it can’t be stripped from the afflicted.”

  “And what do we do with him then?”

  “Then you take him to jail and let him answer for his crime. If he mentions this place, we’ll deny it. Who do you think they’ll believe? The Sheriff and the town priest? Or some greasy rapist who thought he could get away with hurting innocent women?”

  Nodding his head once in agreement, James shot one more look at the door leading to the cage. “If you need anything, you come and get me. I’ll be waiting in the sanctuary and praying that God directs your hand. You are a good man, Priest. A little too good in my opinion, but that’s to be expected. I’m not sure how you find the forgiveness inside you for scum like him.”

  My smile widened, a practiced expression that set my parishioners at ease. “God is a powerful source of love and forgiveness, James. We just have to remember to let him in.”

  He nodded again and made his way down the hall. Once he was out of view, I turned to walk inside the door, my back leaning against the wood so that I could look at the asshole trapped in his cage.

  “Well, well. What do we have here? I’m surprised you don’t remember me.”

  The man squinted his eyes in my direction, his mind obviously scouring itself for what I meant. After several seconds, recognition finally lit his eyes as his eyebrows soared up his forehead.

  “I really was beat down by a priest, wasn’t I? I can’t fucking believe it, I thought I’d dreamt the fucking night up and that I’d gotten jumped by someone else.”

  This time, the smile did reach my eyes. “You must have been piss drunk, especially if you couldn’t remember getting your ass handed to you by a priest.”

  Once he recognized that I wasn’t opposed to becoming violent, his fuck you demeanor fell silent. Quickly approaching the bars of his cage, he wrapped his hands around them, desperation flooding his expression.

  “Listen, man. Can’t we talk this out? I just want to go to jail and serve my time. I don’t want to deal with whatever it is you two have in store for me. Please, Father! You’re a man of God. Isn’t there any mercy inside you?”

  Laughter bubbled from my chest. “A man of God? How can you be so sure?”

  Eyes scanning me, his brows drew together in confusion. I allowed him to process the confusion, to work through the conundrum that he was staring at a man dressed as a priest, but took too much satisfaction in claiming he wasn’t. Leaning against a wall, I faced the poor slouch and crossed my legs at the ankles, relaxing as I scanned him in turn.

  Brown greasy hair, red rimmed and bloodshot, beady eyes, a body that at one time may have been strong, but was now withering and potbellied from alcohol and drugs. It wasn’t hard to see the signs. I knew men like him. They always came into the family after falling on hard times and eventually took my words to strengthen themselves for God.

  An army for the Almighty. Please. I couldn’t care less about the silly beliefs that were a balm for the masses, the ridiculous lie that had been told since the Dark Ages that God gave a damn about the unfortunate souls infecting this planet. Meanwhile, the people in power sat on God’s throne casting their judgment and filling their bellies as the population starved.

  “You’re not a priest?” he finally asked, his voice rough from yelling, his eyes narrowed on my clerical collar.

  “No, but I play one on television.”

  His brows drew together tighter, forming one fuzzy patch of hair over his beady, unfocused eyes.

  Amusing myself in order to kill time, I smiled back at the man, unconcerned that anything I said to him while
we sat alone in this room would leak or be believed, even if he screamed it at the top of his lungs while we dragged him out.

  “I’m not a priest,” I admitted while holding my hand up to examine my fingernails. “My twin brother was. He’s the one who kicked your ass on the side of the road that night after he caught you trying to rape my wife.”

  My eyes dragged up to him. “How easy was she anyway? Did she put up a fight?”

  More confusion floated behind his gaze. “Your wife?”

  I nodded my head, the corner of my lips pulling up into a lazy grin. “I’ve heard about what happened on that road late at night, but only from a woman who’s too confused to know her own name at times, so why don’t you fill in the blanks for me? What happened first when you pulled up and found her walking alone?”

  His fingers wrapped over two bars, his lips parted on his breath. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Sure you do. Eve is a pretty little thing with her innocent eyes and mousy demeanor. You must have recognized her inability to fight the minute you met her.”

  Smile widening into a snide grin, I watched him shuffle his weight from what foot to the other.

  “There’s no need to worry about being truthful. I understand men like you, the ones who like to walk on the outskirts of what’s considered normal and proper in modern society. Like you, I’ve enjoyed a few trysts without asking permission, so I’ll play the good Christian and withhold judgment. Lord knows, if a stone were thrown in my glass house, the entire thing would come crashing down to reveal that I, too, am a monster.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “I’m not,” I answered, my eyes pinning him with the sincerity of my words. This man was nothing but a poor rapist, a sick bastard that couldn’t keep his dick in his pants but had nobody willing to bounce over it. He preyed on the weak when he had the opportunity to drag them behind abandoned buildings and dirty dumpsters. I’m sure he sweated and grunted as he took his fill, probably giving them the gift of disease that would last a lifetime, or at least until some antibiotic found the means to fight it.