Cast In Blood: Revelations Series Book 1: (8 page)

W
hat the Hell
am I doing here?
Drew asked herself while she paced the sidewalk just outside the church grounds.
This is a bad idea….

She turned to walk off, but something stopped her. Was her curiosity really that strong, or was something else making her so weak willed? Feeling torn, she turned back to the main building.

She'd understood how vulnerable she was when she'd astrally projected to this place just a couple of days ago. Between then and now, she'd practiced some of the shielding techniques her father had taught her so many years ago. If only she'd taken the time to learn more from him before she'd left, she might have felt safer in places like this.

She found it took too much energy to project and shield herself at the same time, but she felt confident she could do one or the other well enough. She couldn't go in without some kind of protection. Whatever had marked these people's souls was strong, a force she wouldn't be able to resist without some kind of psychic barrier.

Hopefully, she'd practiced enough.

No … I should leave. I don't know what I might be up against.

Kevin, the young man who'd given her one of the church's cards, emerged from one of the side office buildings and began toward the church. He gave her a quick glance, but didn't immediately give her any notice. After a moment, he took another look her way, and she could see the recognition on his face.

He veered toward her with a smile.

Shit.

"Hey!" he said as he approached. He paused in thought then snapped his fingers. "Drew, right?"

She smiled back. "Didn't think you'd remember."

"I rarely forget a face," he said with a shrug. "So, come to check out the church?"

"I got curious after I saw all that—" She caught herself. She felt way too comfortable around this guy. Even more she realized his aura was reaching out toward hers. He was dangerous, apparently capable of manipulating those in his direct presence. He'd almost had her there, crafty bastard, but what was it exactly that he wanted from her?

She concentrated on putting up the barrier, cutting his soul off from hers and vice-versa. Along with the protection came an abrupt disconnect with the sensory information she'd grown so used to: She couldn't smell or taste the energy around her anymore, which left her feeling nearly as defenseless as she'd been without the psychic shield.

"I'm glad you decided to come. Everyone deserves a fresh start. There are people here who want to help you."

She nodded, playing innocent. "A fresh start?"

"Follow me." He started for the church, waving her on.

She double-checked her shield and caught up with the man, letting him lead her to the main building, all the while feeling like she was jumping into shark-infested waters, and with nothing but a wetsuit for protection.

As soon as they entered, she noticed incense and organ music. About half the pews were filled, with more people straggling in.

"Perfect timing." Kevin gestured for her to sit.

She chose a spot in the back, her discomfort only growing.

"I'll be back." Kevin gave her a pat on the shoulder before going to greet the various people sitting and mingling. He moved through the aisle, past the podium, and down the private hallway she'd explored during her astral projection.

She fought the temptation to lower her guard and follow again.
Don't do anything any stupider than you've already done.

She dug her nails into the wooden seat. She didn't belong here. Maybe no one did. Was she the only one who felt it? The auras all around her were faint, nearly unreadable. It felt so unnatural. How did mundanes live this way, cut off indefinitely from the energy constantly flowing all around them?

A light shudder overtook her, but she kept the barrier up. As uncomfortable as it made her feel, it was better than exposing her soul to whatever psychic disease filled this place. It was too strong, and she knew if she let down her guard, whatever force was behind it would swallow her whole.

A handful of people filed into the front pews.

Kevin returned and made his way to the back. "Mind if I sit with you?"

She shrugged. "Be my guest."

He sat, but was gentleman enough to keep a respectable distance. He didn't even try to sneak a peek at her cleavage, which was a real feat given her revealing shirt and tight push-up bra.

And these people get odder still….

The organ music stopped. Moments later, the revered Father came in from the back hall and took his place behind the pulpit.

The room was so quiet Drew could swear she could hear her own heart beating.

Their leader surveyed the room with a pleased look while he talked: "My children, I spoke with the Lord today, and He is proud of all you've accomplished over these difficult months. With your help, we've opened a successful shelter, that the less fortunate among us might have a warm bed every night, and we now have a fully functional kitchen, feeding between fifty and one hundred hungry mouths each day. And we're only growing."

Those in the front broke into applause, and the rest of the congregation joined in. Drew followed along.

"We have so much more work to do," the man continued, coaxing the group quiet with raised arms. "In the coming months, we'll be expanding the property and opening an infirmary. Soon we'll be saving souls and saving lives."

More applause.

He took another glance over the crowd, his eyes stopping when he spotted Drew. She turned away as soon as their eyes met, only to notice Kevin nodding back at him.

The room filled with organ music, and everyone began to sing a song Drew was unfamiliar with. It made her feel as if she stood out like a drop of oil in a barrel of water.

Kevin nudged her, then he moved to speak into her ear. "Would you like to meet our Father?"

She tried to mask her surprise. "Oh … I don't know."

He gave her a reassuring smile before he stood. "He has a gift for picking out those with extra potential. God speaks to him."

What does he see in me? What does he know?

She needed to get out of there. If she saw this through any further, things were going to go south really fast.

Curiosity killed the cat….

Without responding, she fled the church. A weight lifted off her shoulders as soon as she cleared the threshold and the door closed behind her. She rushed through the parking lot, not stopping when the door opened again, the music from inside spilling out suddenly and surprisingly loud.

She quickened her pace.

"Drew!" Kevin called.

"I changed my mind. I want to go home!"

"Can we just talk for a minute? Wait up, will ya?"

She didn't allow the gap between them to close, quickly turning the corner as soon as she reached the sidewalk.

"
Drew!
"

"Back off!"

She continued to run, only slowing when she felt sure he'd quit his pursuit. She stopped long enough to turn and scan down the street and sighed with relief when she didn't see him. She grabbed her knees and took a minute to catch her breath.

Her sense of safety returning, Drew lowered her psychic shield and continued down the street. Her senses coming back to her, making her whole again.
What a relief!

When she was only four or five blocks away from her apartment, she could smell ill intent coming from behind her, downwind. Had someone from the church decided to follow her after all?

She made a subtle glance over her shoulder and spotted a couple of people, but no one with a dark smudge on their aura. Secure that no one was specifically after her, she merely hurried up instead of breaking into another run. Good thing she didn't have to; her feet were killing her.

First thing I'm doing when I get home is kicking off these damn heels.

When she cleared the next block, that malicious smell suddenly returned, grew stronger, then overcame her. Her body went tense when she felt the cold metal of a gun barrel pressing into her back.

A deep, gravelly voice ordered into her ear, "Don't turn around."

"Listen, man, I don't have any money, so—"

"We can talk about money once we're square," said the man. "Turn into the alley up ahead."

She did as directed. In her mind, she screamed, "J. D.!" He couldn't keep tabs on all his girls every moment of every day, but he always had his telepathic radar listening for any distress call. She prayed he heard her now.

She did her best to keep her cool. "Whatever it is you want, you don't need to point a gun on me. I'm sure we can work something out."

"Oh, we'll work something out all right, bitch."

J. D.!

They reached a couple of dumpsters, and he pushed her between them. She saw that the man, whose face she now vaguely recognized, held a jacket over his hand and gun. His stare told her two things: She'd ripped off the wrong john, and that this guy would shoot if she did anything to provoke him.

"Strip."

She looked around. "Out here in the open?" Maybe if she convinced him the site wasn't secure, she could buy herself some more time.

"No one's watching. Lose the dress."

Was this how she was going to fall off the wagon? And with this loser? She decided that, if she'd be forced to do this, she wouldn't stop until the son of a bitch was dead. He wouldn't try to stop her. He'd be too lost in the amazing time she'd be giving him. No one could beat a succubus in that department.

Just when she'd gotten the zipper down, J. D. appeared behind the man. It never ceased to amaze her how he could materialize in the blink of an eye. Dark-skinned but racially undiscernible, he looked like a silver-haired giant as he towered over her aggressor, hellfire burning behind focused, dark eyes. He wore a tacky pin-striped suit with a purple velvet fedora, but somehow they looked right on him.

"Excuse me?" he said, his voice steady and polite.

"This is none of your—" The man's words cut off when he turned around, redirecting the gun to point at J. D.'s chest.

"You're messing with my girl."

"Your 'girl' ripped me off." The man's voice cracked and quavered.

"Have a nice trip," J. D. said before plunging his fist into the man's chest, crushing his heart. Blood went everywhere, but J. D. didn't seem the least bit bothered by it.

The body crumpled at his feet.

"Thank God!" Drew went to hug the pimp, but he held a hand between them.

"Thank who?"

"Thank you," she amended.

"That's my girl." He opened his arms and welcomed the embrace. "What are you doing, still screwing over the johns like this, D? It's bad for business."

She shrugged.

"You know I have no choice but to punish you."

She nodded, wishing at that moment she could be anywhere but standing in front of him.

"But that's gonna have to wait. I'm late for a meeting."

She nodded gratefully.

He cocked his head. "You're in more trouble than just with the johns. What have you been up to?"

Why did he always do this, spy on her psychically then initiate a game of twenty questions when he already knew all of the answers?

Drew shrugged innocently. "I'm not sure. These people tried to pull me into their church, the one just down 5th Avenue."

"So, what do you think of the place?"

"There's something wrong with the people. A few of them have auras made completely of shadows, and everyone else has this strange psychic stain. Their souls all seem to reach out like … like astral leeches or something. It's creepy."

"Hmm." J. D.'s glance moved in the general direction of 5th Ave. "Like astral leeches, you say?"

Drew nodded. "Have you seen them?"

He ignored the question. "I gotta go. I'm going to send you home. Wait for me there. Do you understand?"

"What's going on J. D.?"

"I'll be back soon." And with that, Drew found herself transported into her apartment with J. D. nowhere to be seen.

H
ershel shuffled
through his notes in preparation for the next sermon. His flock was in a state of flux, which distracted him more than he wanted to admit.
Growing pains
, he told himself, although it felt like so much more than that. There were some people among the flock who, despite their seeming dedication, embraced varying degrees of doubt. Some were there merely for the food and warm beds. They had no idea how much they actually stood out from the truly faithful. Such individuals would have to choose their allegiances soon or he would have to make their choices for them, tough yet necessary choices for their own good.

Their eternal souls depended on it.

He'd been a gracious host, as was only fitting for a man of his stature. Sometimes he needed to remind himself that his place in this world was as difficult as it was timely, just as he needed to remind himself that all of these people—the faithful and the lost alike—were only human. Human beings made mistakes, and they deserved his forgiveness should they only ask for it. Still, they needed to learn to be steadfast despite the opposition.

He'd need to fit in a small reference to the Book of Job, he decided, and in his mind he went through the memorized passages in search of the perfect words to quote. He needed to bring up the Adversary, the Devil in disguise, ever challenging even the most faithful of people.

Testing them.

He looked up when he saw a flicker of light in the corner of his left eye. His heart filled with love and joy when he saw the Messenger had returned.

He shone a warm light over Hershel, so overwhelmingly beautiful that he had to fight tears. His features were vague, the glow making him appear more like a spirit than the human form he assumed. Still, Hershel could make out the humble smile and crystalline eyes directed on him.

Knowing there was no need for pleasantries, Hershel moved straight to his confession: "I failed Demas. A demon killed him right under my nose … took him away. It all happened so fast. There was nothing I could do."

"Even the Messiah's eyes can be deceived by a powerful enough influence, my Lord. Demas is alive and well. He'll return when the time is right."

Hershel nodded, relieved. The event was a lesson in humility, then. He supposed even the Second Coming had his limits, as few as they might be. Not even Jesus had been perfect. He needed to remember that.

"You've come to me with more good news than that," Hershel said without a hint of question in his tone.

"I have." The Messenger paused for effect. "The Day of Reckoning draws near, and we still have much to do. Timing will be key to our success."

Hershel sat back and crossed his arms. "There's a possibility we could fail?"

"Nothing's impossible. You should know that by now."

"But the prophecy—"

"It's inevitable, but we could experience some delays if we're not careful. We have enemies among us. The young woman you protected from a demon has joined the dark alliance. You may not be able to win her back."

Hershel's posture changed again, this time his body sinking into the chair. He made an attempt to right himself, but he felt too heavy. "Lenore would betray me? No, that's not possible. We spoke earlier, and I saw nothing but love in her eyes."

"She's plotting against you even as we speak."

"But … but you told me she was special. She is special."

"Yes. So was Judas, correct?"

Hershel nodded with a sigh. Why did this all need to be so painful? Why the complications? Didn't he have it hard enough as it was?

"The demons might convince her to bring in one or more infiltrators, evil influences that want nothing but to destroy your congregation from the inside. They'll try to trick you, might even try to seduce you. Invite them in and act as unassuming as possible, but don't try to take them on without first consulting me. God will direct you. He will keep you safe. Listen for His advice."

"I'll do that." He smiled, doing his best to exude strength, but his unsteady voice betrayed him.

"You'll rise above this adversity. We have faith in you."

His burden felt even heavier than before. Crushing. But he needed to remain strong. If the voice of God had faith in him, that was what he needed to cling to, not the heartache. Like his flock, he too was being tested. He would not fail.

"There is a biophysicist in Texas, Neil Sandberg, whom we have gifted with the spark of divine inspiration. He is nearly finished with his work, and he will come to you when you're ready for him. You will allow him to hire and train your infirmary's staff, and you will not question any decisions he makes while he's here."

"Understood."

"I see trepidation in your eyes."

Hershel nodded. "I won't lie. I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders, and at times it's overwhelming. I would bear the weight of the cross again if it could bring the salvation we seek, but I'm painfully aware that the amount of sin now clouding this world is too great for me to take on alone. I know what I need to do, and I'm prepared to do it."

"And you will do it well. Remember, God is with you always. In your weakest moments, God is with you. When you feel forsaken, God is with you. When you speak to your congregation, God is with you."

"I feel His presence."

"Let Him be your strength. He is your father, and He is proud of you."

The pain in Hershel's chest lifted, and a sense of peace and joy replaced it. No longer attempting to hold back his tears, he looked up, clasping his shaky hands together. "Thank you, Father. Your love humbles me, and I am grateful for it."

"We need you to work even harder than before. Once this begins, it will feel like an avalanche is overtaking these grounds. People will panic. You must calm them. The Devil will double his efforts to stop you. It's imperative that you stay one step ahead of him and remain focused on the task at hand. There will be some who try to paint you as misguided. They will not understand our mission, and in their confusion, they will turn you into a target. Prepare yourself."

"I will."

"Remember you are saving souls. Their deaths will cleanse this world, but they will be meaningless if we allow evil to claim them. You must pray with the dying. Hold them. Cry with them. Deliver them to Heaven, one at a time if you have to. Their suffering will open them to the truth."

"Yes … yes, I'll deliver every one of them."

"You've already begun to divide your people, but the numbers on both sides are about to skyrocket. It's time you move the lost into their own wing and have your disciples begin lining them up for the last meals each day. Getting them into this routine now will reduce the questions later. Reach out to the community like never before. The people will remember your acts of kindness. Your love will place a mark on those who are to join your army. That mark will spare them when Pestilence rides through this valley."

God's light became nearly too much for him to contain, and a heavy sob escaped him, his body shuddering. As much as he dreaded the anguish that was to come, he looked forward to furthering his work. He was going to change the world, and that was exciting. This was merely the first step, though.

A war was brewing, the greatest this world would ever see. The Antichrist already walked among them, and it would be his charge to seek the man out. The angels would join Hershel to fight on the front line. He would be their general, personally taking up the sword to cut through the lost and cleanse the soil with their blood. Similarly, the fallen angels would join their dark master in an attempt to take control, but they would quickly flounder. It was going to be a glorious battle.

The Messenger reached across the desk, offering both hands, and Hershel took them into his own. Their connection filled him with his Father's omnipresent spirit. It felt warm and satisfying, fortifying his resolve.

"Thank you, Father," he said again, and then the Messenger dispersed in an explosion of light.

He collapsed onto the desk, crying into his arms and praising the glory he'd been blessed to witness.

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.