The Blood We Spill: Suspense with a Dash of Humor (A Letty Whittaker 12 Step Mystery Book 4)

by Donna White Glaser

  Apparently, sex did make me violent.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  After Eli hobbled out, I retreated under the table again. I would have loved to be able to shut off my brain, but no chance of that. The prospect of standing naked in front of Father and his merry band of voyeurs, as well as the disturbing realization that some other voyeuristic asshole had been watching Eli and me, triggered a series of panic attacks that lasted the entire night. Thinking about Eli and me and what we had just been doing didn’t help me find my calm center, either. My body spasmed back and forth between heart-pounding, sweaty panic attacks and heart-pounding, sweaty lusties when I pictured our recent rug activities.

  Wave after wave flooded my body, leaving me weak and frustrated. I lost all sense of time, but I believed hours passed as panic attack followed panic attack. Each time, I would tell myself it was over. But it wasn’t. And after each wave, a growing disgust at my own self-perceived weakness sank to new depths.

  Not so long ago I would have dealt with the chaos in my mind with a drink… or five. Not an option anymore, even if I could get out of the cabin. On the other hand, if I were able to escape and made it to the local tavern, I would probably be guaranteed as many free drinks as I could swill down, what with being buck naked and all.

  That thought brought me full circle to the reminder that in less than twenty-four hours I would be similarly unclad and in front of more people than had ever simultaneously seen me naked since birth. Unless I counted that after-game party one night in Green Bay when the Packers trounced the Bears. That was years ago, though.

  Eventually I remembered that A.A. had taught me there were other ways to deal with the chaos in my soul. If ever a situation called for the Serenity Prayer, it was this one.

  God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

  I whispered the words to myself over and over again until something in my chest unknotted. I decided to break it down.

  God. What did that even mean? I had worked the Steps enough to be able to say that I believed there was something bigger than myself out there, but I was a long way from feeling comfortable about it. Considering my past and the choices I had made along the way, I just couldn’t conceive of a God that would be okay with all that. Not to mention the oh-so-recent rug romping that Eli and I had just done. Talking with Tracy and seeing the peace in her life was the first time I had any glimmer of what it might be like to be on speaking terms with Him. Or Her. It, maybe.

  Then again, the community Father reigned over gave a great example of the flip side. The Elect’s philosophy fit with the judgmental, sinners-go-to-hell mentality that I subconsciously associated with religion. Why would all these people voluntarily bring themselves to this place? To Father, even. To fill some empty void?

  But was I any better? What emptiness had I been trying to fill with alcohol? Was that why A.A. introduced a Higher Power? Was that emptiness the cause of it all?

  Was the answer God? If so, I at least knew it wouldn’t be the type of God pushed here. Father’s brand of crap was just one more fake placeholder, no better than gambling or shopping or any other cheap, transient feel-good.

  Strangely, it was exactly their rigidity that made me feel God wasn’t an integral part of Father’s community. Did that mean my perception of God was evolving? I shuddered. I wasn’t at all certain I was ready to be besties with a Supreme Being.

  Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.

  There was so much that was out of control, never mind out of my control. I couldn’t change what was going on in the Elect. I couldn’t make Father less manipulative; I couldn’t make Moses less crazy. I couldn’t change Enoch’s death or the fact that his hand lay somewhere rotting in the woods or, worse, in Gunner’s digestive tract. Although by now he had probably… I shook my head to banish that particular thought.

  I couldn’t even be certain I would find Maggie. Once found, I couldn’t guarantee that she would agree to leave with us.

  With a start, I realized we had lost sight of Maggie—in more ways than one. The search for Reggie’s daughter had taken second place to figuring out what was going on in the Elect.

  But something told me she was the link. Enoch’s abandonment of the church seemed to have ratcheted up Father’s paranoia several notches, as seen by his closing up Corinth House and pulling its residents back to the commune. As Father pulled members away from the outside, the little group Maggie hung with seemed to have similarly contracted, not even participating in so-called mandatory meetings. Something told me that Maggie and the secrets were connected.

  Why else would she and her group be kept so isolated from the rest of the church?

  And speaking of isolated… Where had Priella gone? The “on a mission trip” excuse was obviously bullshit, but no one seemed to have any idea what the real story was. Nobody who was telling, anyway.

  Rachel had been the only one who appeared bothered by Priella’s abrupt disappearance. Distraught even, which seemed odd given the fact they had both been sweet on Enoch. Rachel had also been the one who uncovered the extra plane ticket. She knew something. And it appeared that Father knew that she knew. Or he knew that she was trying to know.

  I was starting to confuse myself, so I set that aside and continued with the Serenity Prayer.

  Courage to change the things I can. Well, I was here wasn’t I? Good enough.

  And the wisdom to know the difference. I guess that depended on who you asked. I was well aware that there was an uncomfortably large number of people who would definitely not list wisdom among my character traits.

  A rustling outside brought me to my feet. It didn’t stop at the cabin door, so I hurried to the lower chink and peered outside. Justus and Gabriel were walking down the path in the direction of the clearing where I had chased Gunner.

  When the two men disappeared from view, I sat back down. Where were they going? Were they finally looking for the rest of Enoch’s remains? That didn’t make sense.

  I woke up sore and stiff from my second night on the floor. I had no idea what time it was, but the light shining through the knotholes was strong and bright. Sleep had been short, but surprisingly deep. The repeated panic attacks left a lingering fatigue, but something else remained as well. I held myself still, trying to capture the feeling. Confidence? Well, no wonder I didn’t recognize it. And not just confidence. An absence of… fear.

  Uncertain about trusting the new sensation, I set about the day, walking with creaky joints to the bathroom. I swished my mouth out with the tepid, mineral-tasting water, then wet my hair down and finger-combed it. It didn’t help.

  But then I didn’t imagine the fellas would be critiquing my hair.

  My attendants showed up much later. I heard rustling at the door and then the snap of the lock. When the door opened and the light poured in, I drew back and almost hissed. Three shadowy forms stood in the doorway.

  “Are you ready?” Cozbi asked.

  Ignoring them, I stood blinking for several long moments before donning the white robe. I couldn’t tell if it was the same one I had worn before, but it felt different. The material irritated my skin, and there was a musty odor I hadn’t noticed before.

  My eyes had adjusted, but still I paused, strangely unwilling to venture out into the bright, chilly outdoors.

  Baara approached me and dropped a pair of sandals at my feet. Her smile was as bright as the sun, but I couldn’t respond to it. I slid the sandals on. The leather felt scratchy against my feet.

  Although it wasn’t my intention, my continued silence bothered Baara. She stepped back and looked anxiously at Cozbi. The older woman’s face remained expressionless, but a wrinkle formed in her brow. Maliah was the only one that didn’t appear worried. In fact, she actually looked amused.

  I pushed past the trio to stand just outside the cabin, took a deep breath, and lifted my face to the sky. The tre
es swayed slightly, and I watched the boughs dance together. I closed my eyes against the brightness. Another deep breath. Then I turned toward Philadelphia House, set my shoulders, and strode to the temple.

  The candles hadn’t been lit, leaving the temple feeling dark and damp. Empty too. Baara scurried to the candles and began to light them, their tiny flames helpless against the gloominess. I would have been content ignoring the other two, but as Baara returned, Cozbi said, “They should be here already. Father told me to—”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about this part?”

  Maliah smirked.

  “We’ve found it’s best not to,” Cozbi said. “Less time to worry. Just remember, Revelation tells us, “‘Behold, I come as a thief. Blessed is he that watcheth, and keepeth his garments, lest he walk naked, and they see his shame.’”

  I gave her a baleful stare. “Then why can’t I keepeth my garments instead of walking buck-ass naked in front of Father and his group of merry men?”

  She blushed. “Because you haven’t finished the purification until Father blesses you. So, you walk in shame, and then Father—”

  “So, if the blessing does the trick, why didn’t Father just bless me instead of making me camp out in a hovel—again—buck-ass naked.”

  “We do not question Father’s ways,” Baara cut in.

  Maliah snickered.

  I wheeled on her, but my retort was cut off by the sound of the side door near the altar opening. Father and the rest filed in, all in their little white robes and holding their staffs.

  If only Freud could have seen this…

  They took their positions and waited, all eyes on me. Father stared down the aisle, his gaze unyielding. Behind me, the women shifted nervously, as though they expected me to turn and run. Or worse, cause a scene, as I had been about to moments ago.

  I tried to swallow, but my tongue was too thick and dry. Aside from experiencing all-over body shakes, I couldn’t seem to move. Time seemed to elongate and expand.

  Father’s eyes narrowed, then a slight, mocking smile tickled his lips.

  He wants me to fail.

  My chin snapped up, and I tugged the rope belt loose. The robe puddled at my feet. I kicked it and the sandals aside, and started the long walk up the aisle. Whereas before I couldn’t wrench my eyes from the pull of Father’s, I now let my gaze travel the line of men. Gabriel, red-faced and fists clenched, appeared to be trying to watch my feet. My first thought was fetish, but then I realized he was trying to be respectful, while still complying with Father’s arrangement. Casper, on the other hand, stood pale and sweating. If he was sexually aroused, he didn’t show it. The rest—Eli, included—were transfixed. I lasered a glare at Eli, and received a wink so fraught with meaning it made my toes curl.

  Moses, though…

  Moses was breathing so hard, I was afraid he was strangling. Then, I decided I wasn’t afraid. Moses strangling to death would be a fine thing. His rasps echoed through the still air so loudly they almost drew the men’s attention away from my boobs. Just as I reached my place, Father coughed and nudged his second-in-command.

  And there we all stood.

  Father launched into a long speech, which no one, myself included, listened to. My rage ebbed, leaving me weak and a little dizzy. Only the thought of Moses’s reaction to my naked body sprawling unconscious at his feet kept me upright. I truly wouldn’t put it past the rat-faced bastard to treat that occurrence as “manna from heaven.”

  My attention snapped back when I heard Father announce my Naming Ceremony, tomorrow at dawn. “You will appear before the entire church of the Elect of the Returning King,” he intoned. “Prepare yourself for—”

  “Everyone?” I blurted.

  I heard someone gasp behind me, and Father’s face went rigid; lips, white slashes of anger. I didn’t care. Enough was decidedly enough. If they thought I was going to stand in front of the whole community in my nakeds…

  “Yes, of course, everyone,” he said. His words had to run an obstacle course past gritted teeth. His hand twitched as though he wanted to slap me.

  “Will I be… Will I have my robe?”

  His body relaxed infinitesimally. “You will be clothed. You have been purified and your sins washed away.”

  I thought Jesus did that. I decided this wasn’t the time for a theological debate, what with my nipples hanging out and all.

  Father nodded a dismissal and I made good use of it.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  We gathered in the cow pasture behind the barn at dawn. I was back in the robe. This time, I was allowed to dress myself and, against orders, I’d snuck on a pair of rolled up sweats and my bra. Couldn’t do anything about the sandals, and I watched my toes tint blue with the cold.

  Aside from a few belligerently alert morning people, the crowd looked sleepy and resigned. Their movements were minimal—yawning and scratching. The need to avoid cow pats took care of any milling tendencies. I didn’t see Maggie.

  By the time Father deigned to join us, my toes had taken on a purplish tone that rivaled the sunrise, but wasn’t nearly as pretty. The assembly shuffled around a bit, forming a semicircle with Father and me in the center. They settled quickly; apparently no one wanted to extend our little outing. Father raised his hands for quiet—needlessly, but I supposed the gesture made him feel all leaderly or something.

  “Children, hear my voice.”

  “We hear our Father,” the crowd mumbled. Get on with it remained unspoken, but we all knew everyone was thinking it.

  “This child has been purified. She is a new person. Now this is the Law: When the days of her separation are fulfilled, she shall be brought before the church. And she shall present her sacrifice and submit to the authority which God has established. Her name is Leona.”

  On my right, I saw Jala frown. Maybe she didn’t like my new name. I made a mental note to ask her why, but I couldn’t worry about it now because Maliah had stepped to my side bearing a wide, ceramic bowl filled with a red liquid. Oh, ick.

  I glared at her for once again not filling me in and got a slap-worthy, saintly smile in return. Cozbi appeared at my other side. “Dip the palms of your hands in and touch Father’s face,” she whispered.

  My lip curled as waves of disgust commandeered my face. Disgust is one of the six universal facial expressions, along with happy, sad, surprise, fear, and anger said the intellectualizing, let’s-pretend-this-isn’t-happening-or-I’ll-throw-up part of my brain. I couldn’t use my mouth because it was clamped shut against the rising tide.

  I swallowed, then did what Cozbi said. Father stood stoically; he looked bored, in fact. Maliah sashayed down the line to Mark and Adlai, neither of whom I knew well other than that they were lowest in rank and married to Martha and Talitha, respectively. At my approach, Adlai opened his robe, baring his chest. Thankfully, his rope belt kept everything else covered.

  “On his chest, this time,” Cozbi whispered, just in case I hadn’t figured out the whole exposed-chest thing.

  Adlai grimaced slightly as my bloody hands hovered over his skin. I barely touched him, leaving only three little fingerprints.

  “Not so fast,” Maliah hissed.

  Adlai said, “Welcome, Leona,” and I moved on to Mark, then Rachel’s husband Dathan—re-anointing my hands in the blood with each one. I slowly worked my way up the line to Gabriel, who had the kind of chest worth rubbing. And to Casper, who most definitely did not. Eli was next—third in rank. I avoided his eyes; there was enough going on, and dripping blood didn’t make me go all flirty.

  Then Moses. His breathing was only slightly less raspy than the night before. His hands shook as he pulled his robe apart and he closed his eyes, waiting for my touch. I gritted my teeth and dipped into the bowl for what I hoped was the last time. The moment my palms made contact, he gasped and his face froze in a rictus of tension. Then he sighed softly and shuddered.

  I yanked my hands off. Did he just…? His eyes opened dreamily. And
then he smiled.

  Cozbi caught my hand in midair and shuffled me back in place in front of Father before I even realized I was going to slug him.

  Next thing I knew, Maliah launched, screaming, into Cozbi and me. Blood geysered up from the bowl, showering Maliah from head-to-toe. Cozbi and I scrambled out of the way, squealing in revulsion, and I’m pretty sure I heard a girly shriek from Father as he jumped back too.

  The cause churned at our feet.

  Eli had Moses down, raining thudding blows on him that were audible, despite the erupting screams of the crowd behind us. Gabriel and Dathan were trying to pull Eli off, but they kept stepping and stumbling on the two combatants and getting in each other’s way. Dathan tripped and fell, almost taking Casper down with him. Finally, Gabriel locked Eli in some kind of hold, dragging him off Moses. Justus appeared out of the chaos, and together they wrapped Eli up in a jumbled man-hug and began to propel him away from the writhing mess on the ground. I could hear them telling Eli, “It’s all right. It’s over. It’s over.” Eli twisted and writhed between them, not listening, not answering. Definitely not calming down. He almost got loose once, but before he’d gotten more than a few feet, they snagged him back up and held firm. They stood there, locked together until the rage slowly leached from his face and we could see his mind surfacing from wherever it had gone after relinquishing its hold to instinct. His struggling slowed. And though they didn’t let go, all three relaxed a notch, breathing hard and leaning into each other as though holding each other up from exhaustion.

  Eli was okay.

  Moses, on the other hand… Dude wasn’t doing so well. No one appeared all that eager to give him a hand, either. He had risen to one knee, but his upper body swayed back and forth, and he gaped blearily at his surroundings. Maybe his mind had run away and hid too. He was gasping and shuddering again, but I noted with feral pleasure the sick, dreamy smile had most certainly been wiped off his face. As had, it appeared, his nose and mouth—both of which were bloody, sodden messes. Crooked too.