The Blood We Spill: Suspense with a Dash of Humor (The Letty Whittaker 12 Step Mysteries) (29 page)

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 trees 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

W
e 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.