The Diabolical Conspiracy (5 page)

She worked fast after that, freeing him from his bonds and hustling him out of the guest bedroom and down a hallway toward the door to the garage. He got a glimpse of the living room through an archway as they hurried down the hallway. The living room looked so normal, so deceptively middle class, with the usual array of nice but not terribly expensive furniture. There was nothing about it that screamed,
Beware! Satanists live here!
Adjacent to the living room was a small foyer. The front door was there. From his vantage point, the living room appeared empty, which made him think the rest of them were back in the garage. Marnie was gripping him lightly by an elbow. As he glimpsed the empty living room, an impulse to dash through that archway and make a run for it flashed through his mind. But Marnie must have sensed this because she tightened her grip on his arm in the same instant. He still might have jerked his arm free and tried for a getaway, but resurgent fear coupled with a case of paralyzing indecisiveness settled the matter. So he relaxed and let her guide him to the door at the end of the hallway and out to the garage.

The metal folding chairs were still arranged in a loose circle, but at the moment they were mostly empty. Nadia was the only one sitting, and she had her nose in a large, leather-bound book as he and Marnie reentered the garage. She didn’t look up or otherwise acknowledge them as they returned. The other Satanists were standing near a table at the rear of the garage. The table was against the back wall. Upon it rested an assortment of refreshments, including bags of various kinds of potato chips, bowls of dip, and plates filled with cookies, doughnuts, and cake. Beneath the table were two large coolers containing cans of soft drinks and bottles of beer. Mike was amused by how quaintly mundane the scene appeared. It was like they were attending a PTA or neighborhood association meeting rather than a congregation of Satanists. Few of them would fit anyone’s idea of how members of a cult dedicated to furthering the cause of evil would look. Nadia did sort of fit the bill, with her black attire and almost ghostly pallor. She also looked like she would be right at home amongst a coven of witches or whatever you called a bunch of vampires who got together and talked shop.

The sight of the glistening bottles of beer floating in ice made Mike’s mouth water and he considered helping himself to one, but Marnie had other plans. She steered him toward the circle of chairs and told him to have a seat.

“
Could I please have a beer?”

She touched the side of his head and ruffled his hair in a gesture that felt genuinely affectionate. Strange for someone who had made it clear she wouldn’t hesitate to hurt or even kill him if necessary. “Maybe later. Stay there.”

She left him then and joined the others at the rear of the garage. He looked across the circle at Nadia, whose attention was still focused on the oversized book. There was a large silver pentagram on the front of the book. Some kind of satanic text, Mike supposed. He wondered what kind of information it contained. Demonic summoning spells, maybe? Chapters on the basic principles of Satanism? Probably all that and a lot more. It looked like a very old book. The covers were weathered and the pages looked brittle with age. He had a feeling it wasn’t the kind of book you’d find on the shelves of a chain bookstore. His gut told him there weren’t many like it in the world. It was maybe even one of a kind. He had no factual information to base this on, but somehow it felt right. The book Nadia was reading was the kind of rare relic handed down through the ages, from one generation of cult leaders to the next.

“
So…what’s that you’re reading?”

Nadia didn’t lift her eyes from the page. “Shut up.”

Though the volume of her voice was low, the words conveyed an undeniable weight and strength. He closed his mouth, deciding it wouldn’t be wise to even verbally acknowledge the command.

His gaze went to the rear of the garage again. Aside from the occasional quick sidelong glance, no one else was watching him either. So he shifted slightly on the chair and craned his neck around to check out the rest of the garage. The garage door was closed and someone had blacked out the narrow windows inset in the metal at eye-level with spray paint. There were no cars in the garage, presumably to make room for tonight’s meeting. But an examination of the cement floor made him wonder about that. It was virtually spotless, with no oil stains in sight. Weird. Did Nadia never park her car in here? Mike lived in an apartment and frequently had to park at the curb on public streets. If he had a garage of his own, he would sure as hell use it for its intended purpose.

“
Look at me.”

Mike jerked in his seat at the sound of Nadia’s voice. She was looking right at him. The big book was closed now. She held it in her lap, with her slender forearms folded over its cover. Good lord, but the woman looked delicious. And glamorous, as if she had just returned from a photo shoot for a fashion magazine. He was again struck by how perfect everything about her seemed. Hair, makeup, outfit…everything. Why she was slumming it with a bunch of small town Satanists rather than living it up in some Manhattan or Parisian penthouse was completely mysterious to him.

“
Do you find me an enigma?”

Mike shivered.

There she went with that spooky mind-reading shit again.

“
Uh…yeah. I guess I do.”

“
Good.”

Mike grunted.

Good? That’s all you’ve got to say to that? Fucking
good?

“
So you’ve accepted our generous second chance offer then?”

Mike shrugged. “Yeah. I guess I have.”

She pursed her lips for a moment and regarded him in a coolly appraising way that made him feel like bugs were crawling all over him. “Guessing isn’t good enough. You must be certain. You must be truly and fully committed to performing as required. Are you?

Mike gulped. “Um…yeah. I am. Definitely. Fully, absolutely, without reservation committed. No question about it.”

She smiled. “I’m pleased to hear it, Mike. It would be a shame to lose Marnie.”

This comment made Mike’s gut clench with sudden dread. “What do you mean by that?”

“
I mean your second chance is also a second chance for her. As you may understand by now, we take a tremendous risk every time we take the step of inviting a new member into our circle. An officer of the conspiracy never extends an invitation unless she is absolutely certain the prospective new member will unhesitatingly accept. Survival of the group means not allowing even the slightest possibility of exposure.”

“
So when you said earlier that she would be punished…”

Nadia nodded. “I meant she would die.”

“
Jesus.”

“
By agreeing to do as required, you have given her a temporary reprieve.” Nadia leaned back in her chair and caressed the old book’s cover with her fingertips. “If you do what has been asked of you, she will live and continue to serve Satan.” She glanced down at the book and lightly ran one finger along the lines of the pentagram. “You asked what I was reading.” She looked up again and her eyes projected an inner hardness that belied her exquisitely sensual feminine exterior. “This book is The Satanic Bible. The real one, not that piece of fluff written by LaVey.”

Mike thought,
Who the fuck is LaVey?

It was a question that went unanswered as Nadia continued: “It is one of only 666 copies produced long, long ago. Not many copies survive today. Perhaps only a handful. And this copy is the most sacred satanic relic in the Diabolical Conspiracy’s possession. Any one of us would kill or die to protect it and thus preserve the knowledge it contains. Killing a man tonight will only be the first of many ways in which you’ll prove you are worthy of being a member of our group. After tonight, you will be on probation. You will only become a full member when I am convinced you are as committed to the cause as the rest of us.” She held up the book, displaying the cover for him. The faint and fading outlines of a goat’s head were visible within the lines of the pentagram. “When I believe that you are truly willing to die for this book and what it represents, only then will you become our Thirteenth, thus completing the infernal circle.”

Mike’s frown deepened as he listened to her. The things she was telling him troubled him immensely. They still sounded insane to his ears. But he was trying very hard to comprehend the twisted logic behind the words. He had to find a way to believe what she believed--or at least convince them all that he did--because the alternative was not acceptable. Because he couldn’t--or didn’t want to--imagine a world without Marnie in it, regardless of how she had used him.

He made the frown go away and looked Nadia unwaveringly in the eye. “Then let me start convincing you. You say I have to kill someone tonight. So let’s get on with it.”

Nadia’s coolly appraising look gave way to another of her frosty, nearly invisible smiles. “As you wish.” She pitched her voice higher for her next utterance, making the words heard over the din of conversation at the rear of the garage. “
It is time. Make the preparations. Bring out the sacrifice.
”

The conversational buzz ceased immediately and was replaced by sounds of activity. Mike heard a clink of bottles as they were dumped into a trash can. He glanced past Nadia and saw cult members quickly disposing of paper plates and napkins. Most then returned to the circle of chairs, but instead of sitting right away, they pulled the chairs outward, widening the circle. Two male cult members--including Blake--went into the house. Mike assumed the sacrificial victim was stashed away in there somewhere. Just thinking about that made his guts clench again, so he tried to stay focused on what was happening out here. Once the circle of chairs had been widened, most of the remaining cult members immediately seated themselves and bowed their heads. They also folded their hands in their laps and closed their eyes. Again, he was struck by how mundane the scene seemed on the surface. They looked like members of a prayer group instead of Satanists. Or, considering the circle of chairs, like attendees of an AA meeting in a church basement.

It was a little weird.

Another of the male cult members--the genuinely ugly one, who looked like Adolf Hitler and Joan Rivers had somehow gotten together and produced a deformed lovechild meshing distorted elements of each of their most unattractive physical features--dragged a large block of wood into the center of the circle. There was a curious narrow groove through the center of the top part of the block. Mike puzzled over this until he saw the ugly guy return to the rear of the garage and reach for the heavy-bladed axe hanging from a peg on the wall.

Then
he understood.

Oh shit…that’s a chopping block
.

He had given no thought to
how
they expected him to kill this thus far unidentified person, but now that he was thinking about it, he realized there had been an unconscious assumption that it would be something much cleaner than this. As far as any method of murder could be called clean, that is.

But this…this was just…
gruesome
.

He realized he was shaking again--and was again very much doubting whether he could go through with this, regardless of the cost.

And then Blake and the other guy returned, dragging the bound and gagged intended victim along with them. It took every ounce of will Mike possessed not to scream during the shock of recognition that occurred then. Because the man he was supposed to kill was not a faceless, nameless stranger.

Mike knew him.

Knew him well.

I can’t do this
, he thought.
No fucking way
.

5
.

The man with his head on the chopping block was Donnie Wilkerson. Donnie and Mike’s father had grown up together. When Mike had been a kid, he would occasionally see Donnie having drinks with his dad out on the deck behind their house. He hadn’t been in the same room with the man in well over a decade, maybe closer to a decade and a half, but his memory of the man had not dimmed in the intervening years. The reason for that was that the man was rarely out of the public eye these days.

Mike’s incredulity was off the scale. He simply couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He looked at Nadia. “Oh, come on. You can’t seriously expect me to kill the mayor.”

Nadia’s expression was placid, her posture relaxed. She looked as serene as a woman watching the ocean from a beach chair. “That is precisely what I expect. You will do it…” She lifted her shoulders in a small, unconcerned shrug. “Or you will die. And then Marnie will die. Regardless of what you decide, the mayor will also die.”

“
This is crazy.”

Nadia said nothing, just continued looking right at him with that perfectly composed expression of a woman who didn’t have a care in the world.

Blake and the other guy forced the mayor to his knees. Donnie Wilkerson was nude. He had the kind of ruggedly handsome face that projected an aura of strength and firmness of conviction. The kind of face voters liked. But the sight of his flabby, pasty middle-aged flesh exposed this way ruined that impression. He seemed vulnerable. Weak. Soft. Mike looked at him and was almost overcome with pity. His dad’s old friend regarded him with dazed, uncomprehending eyes. Mike guessed the man had been drugged and he felt some relief at the knowledge. It would obviously be better if he didn’t fully realize what was happening to him. Or know who was responsible. Though Mike doubted Donnie Wilkerson would have recognized him even if he hadn’t been drugged. A lot of time had passed since they had last seen each other and Mike scarcely resembled the adolescent boy he had been in his mid-teens.