The Eternal Ones (12 page)

“Tell your daddy I said hello.” Earl glanced back at Haven. “Service starts at ten in the morning. Six o’clock on Wednesday evenings.”

“We’ll see you there,” Leah said, as if she already knew what Haven would do.

 

BACK IN SNOPE CITY, Beau pulled into Cope’s Gas and Mini Mart, switched off the engine, and turned to face Haven.

“You
can’t
be serious.” He groaned. They’d been arguing the whole drive into town.

“Why do you keep saying that?” Haven asked. “Where’s the harm in stopping by the Frizzells’ church tomorrow? I told you, Leah says she sees things, too.”

“Anybody would ‘see things’ if they chugged jars of strychnine and juggled snakes in church twice a week,” Beau argued, opening the door of his truck and setting one foot outside on the ground. “That whole family is crazier than hell.”

“Who cares if they’re nuts as long as they can help me.”

“Help you do
what
, exactly?”

“I’m not sure,” Haven admitted. “I guess I’ll find out tomorrow. Hey, what are you doing?” Haven asked as Beau slid out of the truck.

“What’s it look like? Getting some gas!”

“I’ll pay,” Haven insisted, eager for a chance to escape from Beau if only for a minute or two. She didn’t want to hear any more of his opinions about the Frizzells. Crazy or not, at least they were on her side. That one little fact made Haven feel better than she had in weeks.

The Mini Mart was empty but for Nikki Coggins and Trisha McDonald, two Blue Mountain juniors who worked the registers in the afternoons, and a customer comparing toothpastes. The girls started tittering the second Haven opened the door, and the man fumbled a tube of Aquafresh as she passed. Haven grabbed a package of gumballs and a jumbo-size Snickers for Beau. As she breezed past the fidgety man in the hygiene aisle, she took note of his clothing. White button-down shirt, pleatless black pants, and black leather shoes that could have been purchased at any store on earth. It was an outfit so bland that its owner would have blended into a crowd. The man finally settled on a package of Crest and came to stand behind Haven at the counter.

“Hey Haven, how’s Satan?” Trisha snickered, too stupid to come up with anything clever. A couple of days earlier, Haven might have cowered. But now her strength had returned.

“He’s doing good,” Haven said, mimicking the girl’s thick accent. “Fact, I was hoping to find him a virgin tonight. Too bad
you
haven’t qualified since the sixth grade.”

Nikki Coggins, who’d been pretending to stack cigarette boxes, doubled over laughing.

“You’re hilarious, Haven,” Trisha snapped. “What the hell are
you
laughing at, Nikki? You lost yours in
fifth
.”

“I don’t have time for this, Trisha. Just ring me up, would you? I’m getting Beau’s gas, too.” Haven thrust a wad of bills across the counter and waited for her change.

“Excuse me,” she heard the man with the toothpaste deadpan as she went out the door. “Did I hear you girls say you know Satan?”

The next afternoon, Haven climbed into the attic of her grandmother’s house. At the top of the ladder, she wiped a bead of sweat from her brow. The heat had been steadily building outside, and with no air-conditioning to cool it, the room was sweltering. On the floor lay the boxes Haven had opened weeks earlier, their contents still strewn across the room. Imogene’s maid had discovered the damage the previous evening, but Haven’s grandmother had waited until the hottest hour of the day to insist that Haven return the things to their proper places.

Kneeling on the floor, Haven began her task, carefully wrapping the Christmas tree ornaments and tucking them next to the photo albums and keepsakes. When she reached for her baby blanket, now covered with a fine layer of dust, a book slipped out of the folds and fell open to where a sheet of paper had been tucked inside. As Haven began to gather them, her eyes landed on a familiar name.

August Strickland
, her father had written.
Professor of Theology, Columbia University. Founder of the Ouroboros Society. Born January 21, 1860. Died June 10, 1925. Murdered?

 

In an instant it all came back to her—the visions of Constance at the Ouroboros Society. She had known August Strickland. He was Ethan’s mentor—the kind old man with a mane of white hair who had died and left Ethan his heir. Haven drew in a breath and closed her eyes. She knew she should put the book back in its box. She couldn’t afford to let the clue drag her back into the past. One little slip—one badly timed vision—and she’d find herself even more at the mercy of her grandmother. But the spark of life that had returned to Haven at Eden Falls had grown into a raging fire that couldn’t be stopped.

With her finger holding the page where the book had opened, Haven examined the cover:
A History of Gramercy Park.
The black-and-white photo below the title showed the open gate of a wrought-iron fence. Beyond lay a park in the full bloom of spring, its walkways carpeted with tiny, bright petals. The upper floors of a row of mansions were visible above the trees. One of the buildings was the home of the Ouroboros Society.

Haven opened the book and read a passage that had been underlined in pencil.

 

 

Haven’s eyes returned to the photo on the cover. An ivy-covered mansion in the distance seemed to grow until it towered over her. She could feel the slick marble stairs beneath her feet as she climbed up the stoop to the front door and then the cold brass knob in her hand.

 

 

A LOUD BEEP BROKE the silence, and Haven woke with a start. The noise was coming from the back pocket of her jeans. She grabbed her phone and saw an appointment reminder flashing on its screen. She didn’t have time to ponder the latest vision. She’d almost forgotten it was Wednesday.

 

SHE FOUND HER MOTHER and grandmother in the sitting room. Mae was studying a cookbook while Imogene watched a television preacher heal a woman with a wounded arm. Once the preacher had delivered his blessing, the woman stood up and triumphantly threw off her sling. Haven was pretty sure that she saw the woman wince.

“Now
that’s
amazing,” Imogene marveled.

“Can I please borrow the Civic? I need to run up to Beau’s house,” Haven interrupted. “Miss Henderson gave him a book and an English assignment for me.”

“
May
I,” Imogene corrected her. “Did you finish in the attic?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Haven told her.

“Then sure, honey,” Mae said without lifting her eyes from her cookbook. “The keys are on the table in the hall.”

“Be sure you’re back here in time for church,” Imogene added.

“I’ll try,” Haven told her.

“Do more than
try
,” Imogene warned.

Haven left her grandmother glued to the television. She guided the car down the long, steep driveway, through town, and took the turn to Eden Falls.

For the first time, Haven noticed that the church had no windows. The only signs of activity were the four trucks parked outside. As she walked up to the double doors, she heard the discordant twangs of an electric guitar being tuned. She paused, wondering if she should knock. Then she took hold of the rough wooden handle and stepped inside.

The interior of the church was as plain and unpretentious as its exterior. Five wooden pews lined either side of a wide aisle that led up to a plywood platform at the front of the room, and ceiling fans circulated hot, humid air. On the wall behind the platform, a large cross was the church’s only decoration.

Haven spotted Earl Frizzell bending down to plug in an electric amplifier while three men dressed in identical shirts and trousers readied their instruments—a guitar, banjo, and bass. The women of the congregation wore long, flowery dresses with the ruffles and frills of another era. There were no more than fifteen people in total, yet somehow the church seemed full.

“Haven!” Leah waved from the first pew and motioned for Haven to join her. “I want you to meet my mother. Mama, this is Haven Moore.”

Haven gazed down at a plump woman with long red hair that hung down her back in a single braid. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Frizzell.”

The woman returned the greeting with a lovely smile. She might once have been beautiful, but life was hard for women in the hills. “Thank you, Haven. That prom dress you gave Leah was real pretty.”

“I owed her one, ma’am. She saved my behind at school the other day. And I’m awful grateful to y’all for letting me visit your church.”

“Oh, it’s our pleasure,” Mrs. Frizzell insisted. “We don’t get all that many visitors up here. I sure hope we’ll be able to help you today.”

“Well, we’re gonna give it a shot.” It was Earl Frizzell. He reached out a hand that was gnarled and scarred. “I’m glad to see you here, Haven. We’re just about to get started. Are you ready?”

“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do.”

Leah laughed. “You ain’t supposed to
do
nothing. If you feel the spirit coming on, just let it carry you. We’ll do the rest.”

The congregation rose as Earl Frizzell stepped up to one of the microphones on the platform and addressed the crowd.

“We’re going to do something a little different this evening,” he told his people. “As y’all probably noticed, we’ve got a visitor here with us. Her name’s Haven, and they’ve been saying in town that she’s got a demon. That’s what they call it down there when somebody starts having visions and speaking in strange tongues. Any of that sound familiar?” The congregation chuckled. “Since those people down there weren’t blessed with the gift of interpretation, the good Lord’s sent Haven here. We’ll see if we can understand what He’s trying to tell us. And if it turns out the girl does have a demon, then we’ll just go right ahead and root the sucker out.”