Cast In Blood: Revelations Series Book 1: (16 page)

Celia eyed her suspiciously for a moment, then shrugged.

"Suit yourself." She went back to gnawing on Billy's forearm.

Lenny decided not to waste any time. She made her way up the stairs and closed the door behind her. As quietly as possible, she took the small plastic door stop from the floor and wedged it under the door. It wouldn't stop Celia from getting out, but it might slow her down. Besides, she looked as though she was enjoying her meal.

Lenny shuddered and left to see if she could find any more information about what was going on in this church.

T
he djinn knew exactly
when Lucifer’s right-hand bitch teleported that half-breed succubus whore back into the church. So they were going to play it that way. Their persistence wasn't going to gain them anything but pain. They were going to die either way, but now he'd make sure they screamed for the sweet release for a good long time before they went.

The hassle they'd turned this into was starting to piss him off.

Hershel was just finishing a discussion with a couple of the kitchen staff when the djinn entered the office. No one could see him, and he could be patient. Sometimes it was fun just to watch the little people do and discuss the things that made them feel so damn important. Humans, as a rule, were obsessed with placing significance on their actions, and they loved to find reasons for their peers to adore them. Like little bugs climbing over one another to escape their demise, these people had no problem turning each other into both the ends and the means.

Step on heads. Throw the guy next to you under the bus. Take what you need, and throw away the rest.

Such amusing creatures.

Their lives were nothing more than a flicker in space and time, the blink of a god's eye, and still they concerned themselves with who said what to whom or what was the current popular consensus on the best way to wear their hair or who could harness the most political power. Even these three people sitting together, discussing the best way to increase their meal output, thought more of themselves because they had special duties, stations that had the potential to affect others.

"I think we're at a point where we need to be thinking about feeding more than just the homeless," said one of the kitchen workers. "With regular, organized food drives, we could put together care packages for low-income families."

"We barely have enough to go around as it is," snapped the other. "And we don't have the shelf space or the manpower to store and sort the random items we'd end up with. The monetary donations are really the most efficient way to go. We can reduce portion sizes to increase our service."

"Well, it would be nice to broaden the menu a little. How many peanut butter sandwiches do we expect these poor people to eat? Yes, it's protein, and the jelly gives them a little fruit, but we could be doing more."

"Do you know what people usually donate? Vienna sausages and canned spinach."

"Oh, come on!"

"Freeze dried potato flakes."

"Potatoes are healthy."

"That's not the point. We need foods that stretch, and we need consistency. Can you imagine how the guys in the back of the line would react if the ones in front of them got mashed potatoes and they got left with the spinach?"

"We're not a restaurant, Jack."

Hershel sighed, and both the workers went quiet and turned to him. "Are you finished?"

Neither said another word.

Hershel clapped his hands with a single, loud smack and rubbed them together. "So, I think we're getting ahead of ourselves a little with the care packages, but it's a wonderful idea to consider
after
we've expanded. For now, we need to think about quantity over quality. If not peanut butter and jelly, it'll be whatever they can dig out of the dumpsters."

The one worker gave the other a smug look.

"With that said, we do need to find a way to increase what we have to give. It's really as simple as spreading the peanut butter a little thinner and not worrying about who might have a problem with getting the heel of a loaf," Hershel continued. "Maybe arrange bags with half-sandwiches if need be, or conveniently forget the chips every few loads."

Neither looked happy with the solution, but they didn't dare challenge their leader. He knew best. The two of them were there to take orders, not command one another.

"Is there anything else?" Hershel shifted his glance back and forth between them.

They shook their heads.

"Then you're dismissed."

They left quietly, shutting the door behind them.

Hershel stretched and rubbed his eyes. He looked tired. They all tired so easily, even the half-breeds. They craved rest each day nearly as much as they craved all of those disgusting foods they ate. The djinn smiled at the mental image of Hershel stuffing his face with a greasy hamburger and soggy fries while the bums he'd taken on fought over bread crumbs.

The man played the part of humble leader well, but that didn't keep him from enjoying the benefits of his position. Sometimes he enjoyed them a little too much. He let the darkest parts of his humanity rule more of his decisions than he'd ever care to admit, and he manipulated his people accordingly. Did he wonder who might be watching over him, judging him, when he
loved
his congregation a little too much? Did he truly think he was entitled to the children whose innocence he took, or was he in as much denial as half the people who went along with his supposedly divine ordinances?

He had to know, deep down, that it couldn't possibly be God's will for him to feed the drugged and destitute to hungry angels. Part of him had to understand he was offering souls—not simply flesh—to his Faithful, and those souls served as fuel to keep them sustained while they worked toward their own personal objective. Granted, he did seem to be clueless about the darkness he'd been spreading in the name of love and light, and he had no idea that the more power they offered him, the bigger the pawn he became. Still, at the end of the day, he'd be lying if he tried to claim complete innocence in the arrangement. His motivations were just as selfish as theirs.

The djinn willed himself visible, cloaking his true form in a veil of light. Hershel noticed him immediately and looked up with a smile.

"I was just thinking about you," Hershel said. "Divine providence."

"Yes, my Lord."

"My kitchen staff is having difficulty with the expansion. We have so many plans, but not enough direction." Hershel shook his head. "I need a few experienced workers, some people who've managed in cafeterias or restaurants and can bring in some fresh ideas."

"We're working on it. More help will be on its way soon."

The man looked more relieved than he wanted to let on. "I never doubted you. I must admit, though, that figuring out the logistics for all of this has been a bit overwhelming. I should be guiding my flock, not deciding between donation boxes and canned food drives."

"We couldn't agree more. Your congregation needs your direction, now more than ever."

That seemed to satisfy him.

"Do you remember when you first learned of your calling?"

Hershel nodded. "Somehow I'd always known, although I didn't fully realize it until the evening I first saw you."

"Being the Son of God is the most difficult calling any man could endure. You are divine, but you're also human, and that makes for a heavy burden. Jesus found his task no easier than yours—and he merely had to die with grace. You must see this world through its end times, the battle between Heaven and Hell over every last soul. So much is at stake, and time is growing short."

"This church has grown exponentially. You've gifted me with great allies and taught me so much. I won't let you down."

"Your congregation has indeed grown, and it will continue to grow. Gone are the days of obscurity and uncertainty. So many people have sought your direction for so long, ignorant of the leadership that was waiting for them right under their noses."

"I'm grateful to have found my flock … finally, after so many years of feeling so lost myself. I'd just about given up. Nearly closed my doors." The man's voice raised an octave with his sudden show of emotion. "Could you imagine what would have happened had our church folded? These grounds would have been rendered unhallowed. The cemetery behind us suddenly would have held unsanctified remains. What would have become of their souls? Would they have been torn from Heaven, damned simply because I wasn't strong enough to keep them safe? How long might it have taken for me to redeem them?"

"All questions that never need to be answered—because you were brave enough to accept your charge. Thank God for you, your people's savior."

Hershel's lips quivered, but he held his composure.

"It is your strength and bravery that will keep you one step ahead of all that Hell attempts to throw your way."

The man sniffled, his sense of self-satisfaction finally bringing him to tears.
If only he could see himself,
the djinn thought, amused. With his help and the help of so many others like him, they'd marked enough of the population to effect the change they'd set out for. Soon, the other kingdoms would crumble.

He'd been looking forward to this day for millennia. They'd planned, and they'd been so patient. They would watch their enemies starve and wither, and then they would take their rightful place.

"I wouldn't have gotten to this point without your guidance," Hershel said, trying to sound humble. It was always entertaining to watch men such as this make a show of humility. It left them wide open to suggestion.

"I've come now to warn you that the enemy has arrived. She thinks she can use you as a guide for the demons she's allowed to bond with her spirit. She thinks she can corrupt you, take you down before you have the chance to offer humanity the salvation it desires."

Hershel visibly braced himself. "Is Lenny with her?"

"We believe Lenny has either fled or died. She's … disappeared."

"She has to be somewhere. What's the worth of having omnipresence if we can't even keep track of one girl?"

"We would guess the demons have decided she's of better use to them in Hell."

Hershel exhaled heavily, his eyelids fluttering for a moment. "No, not her. Why did they have to take her?"

"To hit you where it hurts the most, my Lord."

More tears glistened in the man's eyes. "They'll pay dearly for that."

"Yes, they will."

"This girl, the one who's bonded with the demons, might she know what they did to Lenny?"

"We believe so, but she won't give such information over easily. She's handed her soul over to the Devil and given her will to the demons. They will harden her heart and hold back the answers you seek."

The determination that quickly etched itself across the man's face filled the djinn with glee. He allowed it to settle for a minute and waited to see what Hershel would have to say in response.

"But we can get her to talk?"

"We believe you'll have no choice but to resort to extreme measures."

"Extreme measures?"

"An exorcism, my Lord."

"An … exorcism? I thought churches didn't perform exorcisms anymore."

"That's because they aren't qualified. Only one man has the requisite power, one man who houses the will of God and possesses the rights to do with it as he sees fit."

"Me."

"Yes, you."

The man's face twisted and the muscles tightened, the minutest trace of a smile taking hold. His hand went to his lips, like he'd just received a scandalous tidbit of information, and his eyes wandered the room in contemplation. "I've never done anything like this before. I'm not sure I know where to start."

"God will guide you. He will be your hand … and you, His vessel."

Hershel nodded.

"His glory will shine through, and so will the truth, but you must force the demons into submission. They must suffer terribly if they are to break, and if they refuse to break, their vessel must die."

Hershel didn't seem to like that, but he said nothing.

"Hopefully it doesn't have to come to that," the djinn quickly added.

"I pray it doesn't."

The succubus neared, and the djinn turned toward the door. "She's coming down the hall. Are you ready?"

Hershel nodded, but the subtle tremble to his hands betrayed his concern.

"We will be with you every step of the way."

Hershel continued to nod, slipping a little too deeply into his own thoughts for the djinn's comfort. This human-succubus would serve as a lesson to anyone who opted to side against them. He'd make sure she was just recognizable enough to send back to Hell, a picture perfect example of what they were capable of, a message relaying the extent of their influence over both humanity and its realm.

L
enny walked
the halls of the church, trying to figure out where she could go to find any information on who was behind this crap. She continued to hold the form of Joshua because the Faithful basically had free reign. None of the church members would question him, no matter where he went.

There were doors on each side that led to rooms and closets, but there was nothing of value in any of them.

"Think," she whispered.

"Think about what?"

The voice behind her was a familiar one, but it still scared her half to death. Joseph stood there with his arms crossed, waiting for an answer.

"I was trying to figure out where Lenny may have gone," she improvised. "She's been gone for a long time."

"Yes, Lenny. She is very special to Father for some reason. He has taken quite a shine to that girl."

"Yeah, she's pretty special, all right."

"Well, I don't know what you think you're going to find, but happy searching. I have to go out and pick up a few new converts at the camp over on Sixth Street. I'll be back in an hour or two. Can you let Father know when you see him?"

"No problem."

Lenny waved at Joseph, not sure what else to say. Joseph turned and walked away without another word.

Lenny sighed as he turned the corner. Jack and Marcy walked down the hall toward her, arguing about mashed potatoes and spinach. They paid no attention to Joseph, other than to give a small nod as they passed. They had apparently just come from Father's office, according to their mumblings as they rounded the next corner.

Lenny decided she needed to head to the conference room. That was the only place she hadn't searched. She pivoted on her heel and headed back toward the secret room.