Raghib opened the satchel. Teresa moved closer. He pulled out Maggie’s book and presented it to Louise.
Louise’s eyes landed on Teresa. She lifted an eyebrow. “He brought the book and the girl,” Louise said. “You’re almost worthless.”
“I beg your pardon?” Teresa said. She came to the table. “He knocked out a child and stole a book. I’ve killed people.”
Raghib looked up at Teresa with a smug expression, as if he, too, believed drugging a girl and petty theft outweighed multiple murders.
Teresa turned to Louise. “Are his tasks really more important than what I’ve done?”
“We couldn’t complete the process without the book and the girl,” Louise said. She dropped her gaze to the crinkled pages.
“You two are unbelievable.” Teresa went into the living room while Louise paged through the book. She gazed down at Maggie. Just nights ago she’d swept the girl’s hair from her forehead. She knelt by the couch and did it again. This time it didn’t feel real. Grief bubbled up. She covered her mouth and stifled a sob. Maggie shifted.
“I think she’s waking up,” Teresa said.
“Ah, here it is.” Louise tore a section of pages out.
Teresa returned to the kitchen. “What is it?”
“The instructions for harnessing Yaldabaoth.” Louise scanned the pages. “You’ve, of course, carried out the necessary steps.” Louise held up one of the pages. “Seven bloods. Seven souls,” she read.
“No.” Teresa shook her head. “I only took six.”
Louise looked at her. “What do you mean you only took six?”
“What do you mean, what do I mean? I. Only. Took. Six.”
Louise’s eyes searched Teresa’s face, then shifted back to the torn pages, then to Raghib.
“Six. It can’t be. Tonight is the night. You should have been done by now. He said you would be done.”
Teresa stood. “Who? Who said I would be done?”
Louise cocked her head and smiled. “Yaldabaoth, of course.”
“Yalda—but I thought . . .” Teresa couldn’t get the words out. Louise had never mentioned she, too, was talking to Yaldabaoth. The old bat had lied to her. Chills of realization broke out over Teresa’s skin. Her eyes darted back to Louise’s face.
Louise studied Teresa. “Yes, dear Doctor Hart. You have been a pawn in our grand scheme all along.”
Teresa couldn’t swallow. She couldn’t speak. For a second, she thought Louise had cast a curse or spell on her. Then she realized she was having a panic attack.
The kettle whistled. “Tea, Doctor Hart?” Louise sneered.
Teresa shook her head.
“Water.” The word came out strangled. “Please.”
Louise filled a glass and set it on the table. Teresa took a few gulps, and her throat released whatever paralysis had taken it over.
“You tricked me. You lied to me.”
Louise shook her head, an expression of pity on her wrinkled face.
“You’ve failed him,” Louise said. “Does he know you’ve only taken six?”
It was Teresa’s turn to be smug.
“Yes.”
And he’s chosen me as his queen, so there.
Louise waved a hand. “No matter, then. He must have a plan.”
“Daddy?” Maggie sat up and rubbed her eyes. She peered around. Her breathing quickened.
Teresa went to her. “Don’t worry,” she said. Maggie latched onto her. “We’re just at a friend’s house.”
“Why’m I so sleepy?” Maggie’s voice was a whimper in Teresa’s ear.
“It’s nighttime. You’re supposed to be sleepy.” Teresa petted Maggie’s hair and gently shushed her. Something inside her cracked a little. If it was just her and Maggie now, there was no need for jealousy. No Derrick, no judgment. Her heart ached. She pulled away from Maggie and looked into her eyes, but Maggie was looking off over Teresa’s shoulder.
“Why is my Baba here? He’s trying to kill me. He hurt Pinky.”
Louise came into the living room. “Now, Maggie, he is your grandfather. He would never hurt you.” She laughed. “I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.”
Maggie looked to Teresa, then Louise, then Raghib. Her foggy brain was working out a puzzle she didn’t understand. She jumped off the couch to run, but she collapsed into Teresa’s lap. Teresa helped her to her feet. Maggie sprinted for the door, but Louise grabbed her. Maggie screamed and kicked, but Louise’s gnarled hand kept its grip.
“Get the door,” Louise grunted, indicating the basement entrance.
Raghib flung the bolt. The music played, but the white noise no longer blasted from the television.
Louise lifted Maggie so her feet just brushed the top step.
“Keep squirming, and I’ll drop you down these stairs,” Louise said.
Maggie struggled for two more seconds, then stopped.
“Please, let me go.”
“Maggie?” Bram’s voice yelled from the basement.
“Ah, yes,” Raghib said. “Bram Logan, our dear friend.” He grinned. Teresa shuddered. What would drive a grandfather to harming his own grandchild?
Louise hauled Maggie down the steps. Teresa followed.
Teresa swore she could still smell the scent of Bram’s cauterized flesh.
Maggie squirmed out of Louise’s grip and ran to Bram. She flung her arms around his neck and sobbed against him.
“Aw, a perfect reunion.” Louise clasped her hands under her chin like it was the dearest thing she’d ever seen. “Oh, Brammy,” Louise said. “Look who brought her to me.”
Bram lifted his head. His eyes widened.
“You,” he said in a harsh whisper. “You betrayed us, you sick son of a bitch!” Bram jerked and struggled against his bindings. When it did no good, he stopped. “Why, Raghib? Why did you do this? How could you betray your flesh and blood?”
“There is no greater light than Yaldabaoth,” Raghib said. “You left me to fend for myself. The Messengers took me back in. They care about their people. It was you who betrayed me.” Raghib spat on the floor, then let out a pained groan and fell to his knees. Louise stood behind him, a blood-coated knife in her hand and a twisted smile on her face.
Teresa let out a shriek. Raghib pitched forward and stopped moving. Louise tossed the knife aside. Maggie cowered against Bram, hiding her face in his shoulder.
Louise turned to Bram and Maggie and took a step forward. Teresa stood in front of her, blocking her path. “Don’t hurt her. Please!”
Louise smiled at her, the sneer replaced by a sweet-little-old-lady face.
“Don’t worry, dear. I won’t.” She touched Teresa’s arm with cold fingers, then pulled her toward a work bench. Louise placed a thick, rough rope in Teresa’s reluctant hands.
“We need to take them to Yaldabaoth,” Louise said. “Behind my house is a passageway that leads directly to the basement of the funeral home. We’ll take them that way, under the forest.” She nodded toward Maggie. “Tie her up.”
Teresa pulled Maggie’s arms from around Bram’s neck.
“I’m sorry, Maggie,” she whispered. Tears burned her eyes but didn’t well or fall.
“Don’t you touch her,” Bram’s voice rasped. “Don’t you dare touch her.”
“What are you going to do, old man?” Louise asked. She kicked him in the shin. Maggie was eerily quiet and cooperative.
Bram struggled against his bonds.
“It’s okay, Mr. Bram. I’m okay.” Maggie said. “It’s okay. We’ll be okay.” A tear slid down her cheek. “My angel . . .” her voice trailed off.
Teresa tied the knots at Maggie’s wrists. The rope reddened Maggie’s tender skin.
Louise checked the bindings, and Teresa guided Maggie to the stairs.
Louise knelt before Bram and gripped his knees. “Are you going to play nice, Brammy? Or am I going to have to remove a few more fingers?”
Bram spat at her. Louise dodged to the side. The g
lob landed on the cement floor.
“Teresa, give me the shears.”
“No, no. Okay. I’ll cooperate.”
“Good boy.” Louise brushed his cheek with the back of her hand. He flinched away.
“Not a word, either of you.” Louise pointed at them with a horrific scowl. The four of them climbed up the stairs, the captives resigned.
Someone pounded on the front door.
“Louise!” Ann’s voice. “Louise, let me in.”
Louise slapped a hand over Maggie’s mouth. Bram shouted, but she shoved him with her foot, cutting off his cry.
“Quick, to the back.” Louise whispered. She pushed Bram ahead of her. Teresa followed with Maggie.
A door in one of the back bedrooms led outside. Louise ushered Bram through, then waved Teresa and Maggie forward. She closed the door behind them.
“The passage is to the north of the garden. It leads to the basement in the funeral home,” Louise said.
Teresa nodded.
They tiptoed through Louise’s lawn, past her overgrown garden, and into the forest. Teresa shuddered with fear.
Louise handed Bram’s rope to Teresa. “The entrance is here somewhere,” she said.
Teresa . . .
The word whispered on a nonexistent breeze. Teresa looked toward where the sound had come from.
Teresa . . . come . . .
It was male, but it wasn’t Yaldabaoth’s voice. It sounded like two voices in one.
Teresa let go of Bram and Maggie and followed the sound.
“Where is it?” Louise said under her breath. “Why didn’t I think to bring a flashlight? Teresa? Where are you going?” Louise ran back over to Bram and Maggie and grabbed their ropes.
Teresa was dully aware of Louise behind her. She followed the voice a few feet away and stopped.
Clouds uncovered the full moon, and cold light shined down on a pit. Two bodies lay inside.
“What’s this?”
“Oh, that’s just where I bury my cats.” Louise brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. “Come on, let’s get into the passageway. It’s just over here.”
Teresa numbly took Maggie’s rope. “How? How are they here?”
Louise gave her a bewildered look. “I put them there. After they die.” She cocked her head and gave Teresa a strange look. “Is something wrong?” She stepped closer to Teresa. “Oh.” She took a step back. “Are those...” Louise cleared her throat.
Teresa turned her gaze to Louise. The old woman’s face, etched in the moonlight, held disgust and a measure of shock. Louise’s eyes shifted to her.
“Why are they here?” Teresa asked.
Louise backed away from the pit, from the still bodies lying in the bottom on top of countless cat carcasses.
“Didn’t you put them there?”
Teresa shook her head.
Louise gave her a sad close-lipped smile. “It’s best to just let things go unexplained sometimes.” She touched Teresa’s arm. “Come on, Doctor. Ann’s coming.”
Teresa stayed by the pit for a few more seconds, looking down on the bodies. She flicked her eyes up to the moon and squeezed them shut against the burn of tears.
“Teresa,” Louise whispered through the dark.
She turned and followed Louise into the passageway.
Chapter 61
Ann lifted Pinky into the truck and closed the door. She ran through the forest, dodging tree trunks and lifting her feet high to avoid tangling with any brush.
Too many things were happening at once, but her first priority was finding Maggie and getting her to safety. Then she could worry about everything else. Teresa, Raghib, Dad . . . the bodies in the woods, Pinky.
Just get to Maggie in time.
She tripped on a root, caught herself, and kept going in an uncontrolled sprint. She should take her time, have her wits about her, figure out a plan, but the voices in her head chanted in time with the dull throb of the mark.
Too late. . . Too late . . .
She ran for what seemed like too long. Too much time was wasted in these woods. Louise’s house materialized in the darkness. She leaped up the porch steps and pounded on the door in case Louise had seen or heard anything.
“Louise! Louise let me in!” The knob turned easily in her hand. She pushed, and the door thudded against the interior wall.
Cats scattered in every direction.
She clasped her dad’s gun in front of her and peeked around into the house.
“Louise? Raghib? Teresa?” She took a breath. “Maggie?”
No one answered. She stepped around the jamb. Hugging the wall with her back, she took a cursory glance of the immediate area. The strange door at the entrance to the hallway, usually bolted shut, stood open.
She went to it and peered down a set of steps.
“Maggie?” Ann shouted into the depths. There was no response, but someone lay at the bottom of the steps. “Hello?” The person didn’t move.
Ann looked over her shoulder toward the kitchen, around the edge of the wall into the hoarder’s den, then went down the stairs.
Heart pounding in her ears, she once again crouched next to a body and felt for a pulse. Weak and slow. Blood soaked the back of his canvas jacket. Whispers came from his lips. Ann leaned closer.
“Raghib,” she said. “You son of a bitch.”
He whispered again. The same phrase over and over.
“Lord Yaldabaoth, I am your servant. Take me to the seventh aeon.” His hand shifted. Ann jumped back and aimed her gun at him. He dug in a pocket and moved his hand across the floor. There was something pinched between his fingers. Ann bent, gun still aimed at his head, and took it. Her father’s ring. Raghib had taken the finger from her house.
“Why did you take this?” she asked. He didn’t respond. She resisted the urge to break his neck and looked around the basement. It stank of human filth. A chair sat in the center; light and dark stains circled the floor around it. Urine, feces, blood.
A small, roughly cylindrical shape lay on the ground in the middle of a darker stain. Ann picked it up and sucked in a harsh breath. Another finger.
The edges of her vision faded out. She ran back up the stairs and slammed the door behind her, leaned against it.
“Jesus—fuck.” She gasped for air that failed to fill her lungs.
Get it together. Find Maggie.
Where was she? She pushed away from the basement door and rushed around the rest of the house calling Maggie’s name, but the girl was not there. On the kitchen table, the book lay open to where several pages had been ripped out. Ann picked it up.
“Help me find her.” Ann’s scalp tingled like someone was watching her. She turned around. A few cats sat behind her, wide eyes staring. Her shoulders dropped. Helplessness seeped in.
But the mark had stopped pulsing. Instead, it simmered constantly.
Angel...
She turned back around to grab the book, and the mark pulsed again. Slow, steady. When she faced the hallway, it sped up and became a constant pain again.
She grabbed the book—warm in her hands—and followed this new beacon to one of the back bedrooms, paying close attention to the mark as she went. Ann burst out into Louise’s back yard. She ran through Louise’s shitty garden back into the woods.
The pit with Sheriff McMichael and Derrick’s bodies was straight ahead. The mark beat, and as Ann turned to home in on Sophia’s call, it pounded faster and faster until she faced the hidden passage to the funeral home’s basement.
Angel...
Ann took a deep breath and stepped inside. She clamped the book under her arm while she jogged, keeping her shoulder close to the wall for guidance. Her other hand gripped the gun. With Raghib dying in Louise’s basement, Ann had no idea who the real villain was. Louise or Teresa?
She made it to the central part of the basement with the stained sheets and took the stairs two at a time.
Chapter 62
Teresa sat on the arm of
the moldy sofa. Louise paced back and forth.
“Six souls,” Louise said. “Who will be the seventh?” She pounded her fist into her hand. “Blast. I should have kept Raghib alive.”
Teresa wondered if Yaldabaoth would come to her with Louise hanging around. If the old woman was in cahoots with him, why didn’t the cave appear?
A thrill of excitement coursed through her when she realized Louise’s folly. The old bat turned around. Teresa couldn’t help but smile.
Louise’s zoe line hung from her chest.
“It can’t be Bram. I picked him for the vessel—unless Ann is the vessel. Oh yes, this is so deliciously brilliant!” Louise rubbed her hands together and looked at Teresa. “Why are you smiling like that?”
Louise’s zoe swayed and twitched like a cat’s tail. The cold steel and glass of a hypo pressed against Teresa’s palm. She wrapped her fingers around it and stood from the arm of the mildewed couch. She didn’t need to look behind her. She knew Tiffany was there.
“Why are you smiling?” Confusion replaced the usual smug know-it-all expression on Louise’s face, then fear.
“I know who the seventh is,” Teresa said. She took a step toward Louise.
“We have the vessel and Sophia,” Louise said, pointing at Bram and Maggie. “There is no seventh. Not without Ann here.” Louise’s voice wavered. Her eyes widened.
Some word of pleading formed on the old woman’s lips. She took a step back. But Teresa rushed forward and plunged the needle into her chest. She didn’t pull the plunger. Not yet.
“You lied to me.” Teresa dug her thumb into the tender part of Louise’s bony shoulder. “You say I was your pawn all along, but Yaldabaoth never came to you, did he?”
Louise’s mouth opened and closed, her voice clicking in her throat.
Teresa squeezed harder. Louise’s knees gave out. Teresa towered over her.
“No,” Teresa continued. “He never did. If he had, this living room would be his cave.” She threw her head back and let out a careless laugh from deep in her throat. “He never came to you. He came to me. He wanted me and he took me. You will never see your God’s face hovering over yours. You’ll never feel his flesh against your flesh. I am his choice. I am his queen.”
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