Showdown (41 page)

At least he knew how to fight the images that . . .

The house moved under his feet. That was it, he had to get out. Johnny ran down the hall. The walls bent in, the door buckled. He plunged ahead anyway, slammed through the door and out into the alley.

The ground was shaking out here. Not a slight tremor, but a violent vibration that blurred his feet. He cried out in terror, turned south and sprinted.

Whether by Samuel's doing or his own he didn't know, but the world returned to normal after he'd taken three or four steps. Either way, he had to get out of Paradise. He'd seen all he could afford to see.

Johnny reached the tree line south of town and pulled up behind a large aspen, out of the town's sight. He lifted his hands to his face and leaned against the trunk. The ground might not be shaking anymore, but his fingers were.

Johnny eased his seat to the base of the tree. He would wait for Samuel here.

CHAPTER THIRTY - FIVE

PARADISE

Monday afternoon

“JOHNNY.”

Samuel's voice cut through the still air, and Johnny jerked upright.

“Samuel?”

“Here.” The boy walked from the trees. He was dressed in the same cotton shorts and white button-down shirt he'd worn both times Johnny had seen him. The only difference was his shoes, which were now brown walking boots. He seemed a bit frail, but in every way Johnny could imagine he looked exactly like Samuel.

Johnny scrambled to his feet. “Thank God! Thank God you came.”

“Of course I came.” Samuel flashed a mischievous grin. “Did you have any doubts?”

He even talked like Samuel. As far as Johnny was concerned, this was Samuel.

Johnny glanced back in the direction of the town. “Did you see?”

“I saw.”

“You saw. And you're not worried?”

Samuel
winked. “I have a plan, remember? It was your idea.”

“Not really. What now?”

“Now we do some damage. To Black, that is.”

“Exactly. But how?”

“Do you doubt me?”

Johnny wasn't sure what he doubted or didn't doubt. A week ago he spent most of his time trying to figure out how to spend another lazy summer day. Now he spent every minute trying to figure out how to survive the chaos. He trusted Samuel, sure. But he'd trusted him with Thomas too.

“They burned Thomas,” Johnny said.

“I saw that.”

Johnny looked at the boy's arms and hands. “So, what did you do?”

Samuel held out his hands, palms up, and studied them.“You mean what powers do I have in these hands?”

“Did it work?”

“I guess we'll find out.”

“So, what are they?”

“Well, it's pretty powerful stuff, I guarantee you that. Would you like to see me throw a few fireballs?”

The idea that fire could actually come out of those white hands was incredible. He reached out and touched Samuel's palms. “You can do that? Sure.”

“Actually no, I can't.” Samuel lowered his arms. “It'll take a lot more than a few fireballs to deal with Black. Trust me, Johnny, the power I've written into these hands will terrify even Black. Now”—Samuel walked past him—“shall we go give it a try?”

“Hold on.”

Samuel walked toward the town as if he hadn't heard Johnny. He was actually going in to confront Black now? It was all moving too fast. They should take a few hours, maybe the night, to plot a careful plan of attack.

“You're just going to walk in there? Hold up!”

Samuel turned back. “Repeat after me, Johnny.
I believe
. Say that with me.
I believe
.”

“I do believe. And I believed with Thomas, but—”

“No, Johnny, you believed in a lawman named Thomas. Now I'm asking you to believe in me.”

Was there a difference?

“There's a difference,” Samuel said.

“Okay then. I believe.”

Samuel smiled. “Shout it.”

“Now? They'll hear! We can't just waltz in there like this!”

“That's the point. I want them to know you're with me. Scream it out, Johnny. The louder the better.”

Johnny glanced past Samuel at the buildings just visible on the other side of the trees. The sound might not carry too far out here in the woods.

“I have a better idea,” Samuel said. He turned and walked toward the town again. “Come on, this way.”

Johnny hurried to catch him. “What idea?”

“Stay close, Johnny. This way.” Samuel picked up his pace. He walked right out into the open and crossed the clearing, headed for Main Street.

Johnny followed quickly, thinking that Samuel had a point about staying close. At least nobody was in the streets. He scanned the buildings. Saloon was clear, convenience store looked deserted, the church . . .

Johnny stopped. Marsuvees Black stood outside the church, leaning against the back corner, watching them.

“Samuel?”

“Keep walking, Johnny.”

“He's right—”

“I see him. Keep walking. You're with me. Remember that. You're with me.”

Johnny kept walking. The next time he looked up, he saw that Black was smiling.

They walked out into the middle of Main Street, to the center of the smoldering ring of fire, up next to the car that was still sending up black smoke from its tires.

Samuel stopped.“Here, Johnny. Shout it out for the whole town to hear.
I believe.
”

He was committed now. Surprisingly, Johnny wanted to shout it out. Not in defiance, but in self-defense. He prayed that whatever power Samuel had written into himself was more than what Black could throw at them. This was their last hope.

He had no choice but to align himself with that hope.

He gripped his hands into fists. “I believe!” he yelled. “I believe!”

Fire crackled behind them. Samuel stared at Marsuvees Black, who now stood with his feet planted wide, hands on hips.

Billy's character began to chuckle. He grinned wickedly and walked to his left, keeping his eyes on them. The black-clad monk mounted the church steps. Stretched his neck back and around at unnatural angles as if loosening up. Then disappeared through the doors.

“Come on,” Samuel said. “This way.” He headed for the church.

Watching Samuel strut straight for the gates of hell, Johnny wasn't sure how much he
wanted
to believe anymore.

“Samuel—”

“Stay close, Johnny.”

Then again, he wasn't in a position not to believe. He followed, heart in his throat once again.

THE CHURCH had been nearly gutted by fire. Johnny stared over Samuel's shoulder, through the open inner doors, past the pews, to the stage.

To Marsuvees Black, with his hands flat on the charred pulpit, grinning back at them.

Two nights ago Johnny stood on that very stage, confronting Black in front of the whole town. But that was before. Before the church had been burned. Before they'd torched the theater. Before Thomas had been cut open and hung from the tree.

Before Johnny really understood what Billy could do.

Black tilted his head down and stared up from under the rim of his hat. “Welcome to my home, Samuel,” he said.

Samuel walked in and stopped just behind the last pew. Johnny kept the boy between him and Black.

“Do you like what I've done to the place?” Black asked.

“If you ask me, it lacks imagination,” Samuel said. “I'm more interested in you. First time I've actually seen someone who's stepped out of a book.”

“Then pay close attention,my little friend. Your last creation was a bit of a disappointment. But he bled, I'll give you that. Thomas did bleed.”

“I'll be sure not to disappoint you again.”

“Do you bleed, Samuel?” Black asked, grin still fixed.

Samuel hesitated. Not good.

“Why don't you find out?” he finally said.

“I intend to. But we really should give this town a little show, don't you think?”

“What's wrong with now?”

“They've waited so long that we have to draw it out. Bring the climax to a slow boil. It's what they want, you know. They want blood.”

“Now, Marsuvees. Take my blood now.”

“I would love to, but—”

“Now!”

Johnny started. He fought a terrible urge to run for his life.

“Say it again, Samuel. Say it to me.”

“You're reluctant to show me your power, then?”

Black spread his arms wide and faced the ceiling. “Oh, how I love the sound of begging. Show me your power,Marsuvees. Please show me.”

Samuel clasped his hands behind his back. “That's what I thought. You're thinking that I'm trying to goad you, and you know that the man who gives into goading is the weaker one. But you're wrong. I just want to see if you're half as frightening as my friend Johnny here says you are. All I see now is the copy of a failed monk who's found some fancy black clothes.”

Black lowered his head. His grin had softened. “Perhaps I should be the one testing your power.”

“Perhaps.”

“Then show me what you have. Prove yourself. Show me that you are more than a stupid, reckless little boy.”

“No,” Samuel said.

“No?”

“Not now. Three days have passed since the debate,” Samuel said. “I challenge you to a new debate, at nightfall in two hours, in front of the people of this town. This time they, not the students, will be the judge. Win the debate and I am gone. Lose the debate and you are gone.”

Black blinked. “You'll have to take that up with Billy.”

“You take it up with Billy. You're his creation. I will debate Billy through you. It's my right to demand a debate, the only difference is that you are my opponent and the people are my judge. Don't tell me you're weaker than Billy.”

Black came around the podium. “A two-thirds majority—the same as the monastery?”

“Yes.”

“I accept,” Black said.

“Then I bind you to the terms.”

“Bind all you like. I own their hearts.”

Samuel was silent for a moment. “You are in their hearts.” He slowly lifted his hand, palm out.

Black's eyes widened. He took a step back. Without any further warning, the man in black began to tremble from head to foot. Johnny had never seen a look that resembled the terror that masked his face.

How could that be?

As quickly as the fear swept over Black, it left him. He began to laugh, as if delighted by the horror he'd just experienced.

Samuel stared him down for a long moment, turned, and walked straight for Johnny, who ducked in front of him and exited the sanctuary first, just in case Black had any parting . . . things to throw their way.

The door closed behind them. Johnny whirled to Samuel.“What was that?”

“The beginning of the end, I would say.”

“But what did you do to him?”

Samuel stepped past the outer door and looked out at the smoldering remains of the old theater, a hundred yards south.

“I showed Black himself,” he said. “Think of me as the human mirror.” He winked and walked down the steps. “Seems as though evil loves evil.”

“That's it? You're just going to debate him? What about the town?”

“Don't worry, Johnny, I haven't begun to show my power. We're going to save this town, you can count on that.”

CHAPTER THIRTY - SIX

THE MONASTERY

Monday night

RAUL BALANCED the round silver platter in his right hand and carefully lifted the white lace that covered the delicacies he'd arranged for David. He selected the foods himself from a short list of favorites he kept for special occasions. A delicious crab bisque, sliced Hungarian cheese on crackers, and a small pound cake stuffed with vanilla pudding. He arranged them neatly around a tall glass of passion-fruit juice.

David had retired to his bedroom after Samuel left the conference room several hours earlier. Frankly the food seemed like an empty gesture, but Raul knew that the director hadn't eaten since learning this morning that Thomas had died. For that matter, neither had Raul.

He rapped on the tall cherrywood door twice.

“Come in.” The voice sounded strained.

Raul stepped into David's chambers and spoke before looking up. “I've brought you food, sir. Some of your favorites, I think.” He shut the door and faced the room. “Andrew prepared this crab . . .”

David's bed lay stripped of its sheets, which were strewn to one side of the mattress. One of the pillows leaked goose feathers, which littered the maroon carpet like large snowflakes. A toppled chair lay beside a tray of untouched food Raul had delivered the previous evening. So even last night, when Thomas had taken the town,David was more worried than any of them knew.

David leaned against a window that overlooked the valley, one hand on the sill, the other cocked on his hip. His hair looked like a mop, his face was gaunt and unshaven.

“Sir?”What could he say to this?

“Yes, Raul. What is it?”

“I've brought food.”

“So you have said. Put it down.”

David stretched his neck as if fighting off a wrenching headache. His eyes remained closed.

“You haven't even touched the other.”

“Yes. Please take it, Raul. Take it all. I appreciate the thought, but I'm not hungry.”

Raul noted that a drape had been pulled loose.

“How do you expect me to eat while . . .” He trailed off.

“Truly, I can't imagine your anxiousness.” Raul set the tray on the bed. “But isn't this our only hope? You seemed quite confident. It's the safest way, all things considered.”

David paced in front of the window. “Don't get me wrong, I care for the town, but when it comes to my son, I think of them as butchers.”

“There's nothing concrete to suggest that any harm will come to your son. Besides, Samuel's a strong boy. I'm sure he's doing well.”