Attack

by Rachel Starr Thomson

  David cocked his head. “Is that supposed to scare me? You should have figured something out by now, boy. I want to die. I want to be released.”

  “But you can’t,” April said slowly. “That’s the missing piece of all this. You can’t even commit suicide, because even after death you would still be Oneness. You’re really trying to get us to destroy you somehow. To really and truly disconnect you.”

  His smile was thin, letting something else show through other than the mockery and hatred they were becoming accustomed to. Exhaustion, bitter weariness. “You’re clever.”

  “I don’t think we can do that,” April said.

  “So I’m told. But I don’t give up hope.”

  April put an arm around Mary and hugged her tightly. She blew out a breath of air, shaking her head as her eyes stayed on David. “What are we getting into?”

  David opened his mouth to offer his own answer to that question, but Chris saw the movement and barked out, “Shut it.”

  David obeyed.

  His eyes were still gleaming.

  Like the proverbial cat that swallowed the canary.

  This was their offensive. Their jump on him. So why did they feel like they had walked into another trap?

  Chapter 5

  The air on the way to Tempter’s Mountain grew stiffer and dustier as they turned on the dirt roads up the mountain. Susan Brown followed Richard—with the children, Dr. Smith, and Angelica in his car—in a sandy-coloured, nondescript fifteen-passenger van. All the house kids were in there, along with Tony and Dr. Smith’s family.

  And the closer they got to the hermit’s old hideaway, the easier Richard could breathe.

  Past scrub and pines, he made a hard left to get around a small gully in the road. Taxpayer money didn’t exactly go toward the roads up here. A quick check in his rearview showed Susan keeping up admirably, with half a dozen heads bounding gamely behind her.

  He smiled.

  “What’s funny?” Jordan asked.

  There was a little desperation in the question. Richard looked down at him for half a second, then back to the road and hard right around another pothole. “Watching all the heads in Miss Brown’s van bounce.”

  “Why do we have to come up here anyway?” Jordan said, apparently not seeing the humour. “It’s so far. And I hate the country.”

  “Because it’s safe,” Richard answered. “You know you’re not safe right now. The demons will come after you again. So will the hive. They’ve got Alex, and they knew exactly where you were. You’ll be safer up here.”

  “Don’t know why,” Jordan said, folding his arms. He was sitting in the passenger seat beside Richard, and his legs just touched the floor. He was small for his age, short and scrawny. Hard to believe he’d been a dangerous enemy only a little while ago.

  But demons didn’t much care about age or size. All they wanted was someone they could control and fascinate.

  The fascination was even worse than the control. Control, everyone would sooner or later want to break free from. But the fascination would draw them back.

  Hardly conscious he was doing it, Richard prayed silently. Spirit, draw them. Draw them in. Join them.

  Don’t let these little ones go back.

  “You know how powerful witchcraft made Clint,” Richard said.

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, in the Oneness we have power too. A very different kind, but real power. The man who lived up here used it. He built a shield over the whole property, especially the house. The demons can’t operate under it.”

  “The hive could still come.”

  “Yes, but the human part of the hive isn’t as hard to fight.”

  “That’s why Charlie died,” Alicia said, chiming in from the backseat. “Alex told us.”

  Richard frowned. “Who is Charlie?”

  “Your friend killed him. Alex said it was under a shield.”

  So the fake Dr. Smith had a name.

  Of course he did, Richard chided himself. He was human too.

  Had been human too.

  In his case, the shield that disarmed the demon was one of Richard’s making. He had not built it purposely. In all their years in the fishing village, the little cell never really expected to be attacked. But Richard’s habit of concentrated, protracted prayer—immersion in the Spirit, participation in the pulsing veins of all that truly was—had made the cell house a place where demons could not abide. Could not manifest. Could not control.

  If he had created the shield on purpose, it would not have been with the intent of making hive members more killable. No more than April had killed the man—Charlie? he tried the name on like it was an old shoe that was too warped to fit comfortably—intentionally. She hadn’t really talked about it, but Shelley told the story, over and over, wide-eyed, and Diane echoed it. The man had died because he held on. Because he wasn’t willing to let the demons go.

  Because like so much of mankind, he was passionately committed to his own destruction.

  They turned up one more dirt road, bounced up a steep incline, and they were there.

  The little house sat nestled against an embankment. Knotty pines and scrub surrounded it; the yard was just dirt and sand and stones. Weeds had sprouted and grown along the walkway. Other than that, it did not look like anything had changed.

  Richard turned his car off and just sat while Susan pulled the van beside him. The hermitage was going to be a tight squeeze for this whole crew, but coming here had been right—right and necessary. He could feel the difference, the presence of the shield, the presence of—

  He stopped.

  He wasn’t sure what that presence was.

  Slowly, he got out of the car, into the beating sun. Its heat glared down and then bounced back up from the barren ground, engulfing him. The air smelled like hot rock and pine. It was a scent he remembered well. It had been summer, like this, when he first came and sought out the hermit and learned from him more about how to pray.

  He had been here twice since. Once with Reese and Mary and the boys, when Reese was badly wounded from a demon attack and still under the illusion of exile. And the hermit had thought her an enemy and reproached Richard for bringing her here, but had sheltered them anyway and had given his life when David found them and shot the old man, not under the influence of any demon that could be stopped by the shield, but in his own cold blood.

  The second time when he came back here, after all that was over, to bury his old friend.

  They had debated telling the authorities. Calling a morgue. Filing a charge of murder. They hadn’t done it. The old man lived off the grid up here, out of the eye of the world, and he died the same way. Richard thought he would want it that way. He had come back and buried the body behind the house.

  He had lamented.

  But he smiled now. He almost wanted to laugh. Because the first two times he had come here, he had felt the hermit’s presence like a tangible thing, like the old man liked to go invisible and hang around and look over their shoulders as they came up the drive. His spirit was strong—pungent—like that.

  And now Richard felt it that way again.

  Like the man had never died.

  As truly he hadn’t.

  Oneness, more than the sum of its parts, was life. You could not lose that just because your body ceased to breathe and create new cells and pump blood.

  Doors slammed as Susan and the house kids and Dr. Smith’s family got out of the van and stood in the dirt, looking around, most of them skeptically. Richard supposed this bunch of city kids mostly felt like Jordan did about the country. Jordan himself was stubbornly staying in the car, breathing in every last breath of air-conditioned air before someone made him get out in the heat.

  Angelica climbed out, said something polite to Dr. Smith, and then stood next to Richard.

  “It’s like he’s still here,” she said. “Like I can still feel him here.”

  “I think he is,” Richard said.

 
“In the cloud?”

  “Yes.”

  And then he laughed. Out loud, with surprise and delight. Because for one split second, standing and smiling at him from the front step of the house, he saw a woman with long dark hair and a simple white dress.

  Then she was gone.

  But not gone.

  “I don’t think he’s the only one,” Richard said, grinning at Angelica. “Did you see her?”

  “Her?”

  “Never mind. This is good . . . it’s good we’re here. You and Tony can keep this whole bunch safe here. You’ll have help.”

  “So you’re not staying?” Angelica said, watching as the house kids milled around and Alicia and Jordan finally emerged from the rental car.

  “I have to follow a lead,” he said. “They haven’t given me much, but enough to go after for now.”

  “Do you think we’re going to be attacked?”

  “Something will happen. The hive may not know where we are—they won’t find you here easily. But they will want the children back.”

  He dropped his voice so no one else could hear it. “Keep a close eye on them. Jordan especially, but both of them. And pray they Join the Oneness.”

  She looked at them, then at Richard, concerned. “What are you worried about?”

  “It’s not that easy to leave demonic possession, even if you wanted out. It’s like an addiction. You may hate yourself for it, but you’ll keep going back.”

  Sorrow flashed across her face. “Oh, but they wouldn’t. They’re just kids. They wouldn’t . . .”

  “They already do. Jordan already misses it. They weren’t ‘just kids’ when they were possessed. They were powerful. Something special. And they knew it. Watch them.”

  She nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “Tell Tony.”

  “I will.”

  Dr. Smith was standing just a little apart with his wife, Valerie, by his side. Richard stepped back and nodded, raising his voice as he called out to him. “Well, this is it. Home sweet home.”

  “There’s not much room, is there?” Valerie asked.

  “Unfortunately not.” Richard drew closer to them so he could talk without all the house kids overhearing. “But that might make it easier to keep an eye on everyone. The shield—the protection over this place—extends a ways. They can explore the cliffs, even go down to the bay if they want to. Keep the new ones closer than that—almost housebound. They won’t like it, but it’s necessary.”

  Dr. Smith nodded and didn’t ask why. Richard continued, “Jordan tells me he hates the country anyway, so hopefully you can find a TV or something inside and keep him occupied. The more occupied the better.”

  “Who was the man who lived here?” Dr. Smith asked.

  Richard paused, not entirely sure how to answer that. “A friend. A brother. He was a hermit—a contemplative, if you want. Spent his life thinking and praying.”

  “Not a way to make a living,” Valerie observed.

  Richard smiled. “He didn’t eat much.”

  He hesitated, then chuckled to himself. “Dr. and Mrs. Smith, do you believe in ghosts?”

  “I don’t know,” Valerie answered. “Why?”

  “Well, I don’t. But we in the Oneness, we go on . . . the connection holds after death. Life doesn’t end. We call those on the other side the cloud. They are not ghosts like you understand them.”

  “Why are you telling us this?” Dr. Smith asked.

  “Because they’re here,” Richard said. “At least two of them, I think.”

  Valerie blanched just a little, and Dr. Smith looked intrigued. “Are we likely to see them?” she asked.

  “No, no. I don’t know that non-Oneness can see the cloud. But I thought you’d like to know you’re not alone, and it’s not just the twins watching out for you.”

  He didn’t know if they were aware how much he was giving an invitation.

  It was the old benediction of the Oneness, the watchword that gave meaning to their whole lives:

  Not alone.

  Never alone.

  Never, ever alone.

  Chapter 6

  While Lieutenant Jackson worked on the necessary paperwork to get Jacob released into Reese’s custody, she left Tyler to wait there and drove a few doors down to a safe house where witnesses sometimes were given a place.

  Jackson had told her about it and said that Miranda and her mother were there, and that Miranda had been asking about her.

  Reese’s heart was heavy as she pulled into the driveway and rang the bell, heavy as the door was opened and she explained who she was, heavy as she was ushered into the living room and asked to wait while the girl and her mother were called.

  But the expression on Miranda’s face when she rushed into the room was nothing but relief.

  “Oh, I’m so glad you’re all right!” she cried. To Reese’s shock, she threw herself across the room and into a tight, childlike hug, nearly knocking her backwards on her crutches. “When you left and I realized you were going after Clint, I was so worried,” she babbled. “I wished I hadn’t told you anything about him. But did you find your friends? Is everything okay?”

  Reese needed a moment to process the questions, and to process Miranda herself—she had expected a broken, basket case of a girl. It struck her that even after everything that had happened, Miranda remained so innocent and so naive that she did not even realize how serious everything was.

  She didn’t know to be more preoccupied by her own problems than enthralled by Reese’s.

  Because that’s what she was—enthralled. She tugged at Reese’s arm as she pulled out of the hug, urging her to sit down beside her on the couch. “Tell me everything that happened. Where did you go? Was Clint there? Was Tyler hurt? Was . . “

  “Miranda.” The voice, weary, cut her off. “Give Reese a minute to think.”

  Reese lifted her eyes to the living room doorway, where Miranda’s mother, Julie stood.

  And there was the broken basket case Reese had expected. Her eyes were swollen and red. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days.

  She looked like she had aged.

  Miranda was back to prattling something, and Reese realized she had tuned her out. “Oh, I’m sorry . . . Miranda, hold on a moment.”

  She released herself from the girl’s hold, stood, and approached Julie slowly.

  “It’s awful, what’s happened,” Reese said. “But it’s going to be okay.”

  “We killed a man,” Julie said. Her eyes flicked across Reese’s shoulder. “My daughter . . .”

  Reese turned, taking over, knowing it meant something to Julie to not be the one giving orders. “Miranda, can you give us a few minutes alone?”

  The girl’s lip jutted out in an immediate pout, but with an expression of guilt over her own reaction, the girl nodded and left. She slowed a moment as she passed them both in the doorway, but a firm nod from Reese sent her the rest of the way out.

  The moment she was gone, Julie began to cry.

  This time it was Reese squeezing Julie’s arm awkwardly around the crutch, leading her to the couch, sitting her down, and embracing her like a sister.

  “It’s okay,” she murmured.

  Julie did not try to pull away, and Reese did not let go. She felt movement through her arms, through her embrace, a great drawing force, a presence far more than herself.

  She was not just one woman offering solidarity.

  She was the Oneness offering life and community forever amen.

  Julie looked into her eyes and said, “Yes, I want to be what you are.”

  And they both closed their eyes and felt it. Julie gasped.

  The change.

  The Joining.

  Their spirits surged into one another and became one, and surged into the Other, and the others, and became one; their worlds expanded, joined, contracted, embraced.

  Neither of them spoke.

  They didn’t have to.

  Their souls knew each other
.

  It was the first time Reese had truly felt One since the exile.

  They really didn’t know how much time passed before Julie said, “Why did Jacob try to keep this from us? I know he is one of you.”

  “One of us.”

  She smiled. “One of us.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know much about him. But we’ve come to take him away. He needs to face what he is—and what we are. He needs the truth.”

  “Yes,” Julie said, her eyes filling with tears. “Can you show him? Can you help him? I know . . . I know what he did was wrong, so wrong.”

  “Do you know what happened to him?” Reese asked. “Did he ever tell you—why he feels the way he does about the Oneness?”

  “Why he thinks you’re all infidels?”

  “Yes. Thanks for putting that so kindly.’

  Julie wrinkled her nose. “He’s called you a lot worse.” She thought about it a moment. “No, he’s never told us exactly what sparked it. But he tells us about what Oneness is supposed to be, and he tells us stories of its failures and how—excuse me—perverted it has become.”

  Reese sighed. “I don’t think you need to pass those stories on. I think we’re going to hear them for ourselves.”

  Julie looked anxious. “Are you going to visit him?”

  “More than that. He’s coming away with us. He agreed to it—to travel with us and question himself.”

  “He’ll try to teach you,” Julie said, alarmed, “and turn you to his way of thinking. He’s so convincing.”

  “We know. That was part of our agreement.” Reese laughed, even though she felt nervous about the idea herself. “Don’t look so worried. We aren’t going to be that easily swayed.”

  “You haven’t spent time with Jacob before.”

  “I know he’s gifted. But I’ve been in this fight too long, and too hard, to let anyone convince me that what’s wrong is right. Or that demons are the real power of God in this world.”