Part 25 (1/2)
That had been about the scariest thing he'd ever seen.
Scarier even than the words they were chanting and the oath they made him repeat. I am gallas, and the priestess I obey. The faithful remember...
He had no idea what the words really meant until he came to this place and the priestess told him what he must do. Now, she had been scary. Beyond scary.
After that, his nightmare really began.
Even now, his mouth filled with bile just thinking of it. At night he dreamed that the eyes of the dead followed him, and every morning he awoke with the scent of blood in his nostrils. And always, always, his hands felt the slick warm liquid that had poured over them...
”Why?” he'd pleaded with his brother. ”Why?”
”Because the G.o.ddess demands it.”
How long ago had it been-a week? less?-that he'd held the woman's head in his hands while his brother had carved out her tongue? And then the man, the woman's husband, whose eyes had gone wild with madness as he helplessly watched his wife's agony.
His hands had shaken but he'd done what he'd been told to do. He'd followed orders like a zombie, unable to really see, to feel, to think.
The man-boy hiding in the evergreens began to sweat. He tried to will the horrific images from his mind's eye, but they were always there now.
And there'd been the other one, the man who lived alone in the fine stone house, the man whose dog had chased him, had bitten his arm. He rubbed the place where the dog's teeth had sunken into his flesh, felt the scabs that had formed. All things considered, after what he'd helped his brother to do, he couldn't be angry with the dog.
The image of that man stayed with him, day and night.
His stomach turned, remembering.
How was it his brother could be so unaffected by what they had done?
”The G.o.ddess demands it, little brother. The priestess has told me so.”
He loved his father and wished to honor him. He'd taken his father's place as a gallas as he'd been told he must do. But deep down inside, he wished he could run, wished he could just disappear and never see his brother or the priestess again.
But of course, no matter where he went, they would find him. The gallas always did.
EIGHTEEN.
C onnor paused to secure the dead bolt on the front door, then walked quietly into the sitting room next to the foyer to turn off the lamp that had been left lit for him. He smiled to himself. He'd lived alone for so many years, had spent so much time alone, that the thought that someone had left a light on for him warmed his heart. He made his way to the back of the house to check the doors and windows. All secure.
He turned when he heard Sweet Thing scratching at the door between the kitchen and the front hall, and he swung the door open for her.
”What's up, girl? Need a quick trip out?”
The dog went directly to the back door.
”I'm taking that as a yes.”
Connor turned on the lights on the back porch, and for a moment, he hesitated, and considered putting Sweet Thing on her leash before deciding against it. The leash was in the kitchen on the counter, and the dog was scratching at the door. Besides, there wouldn't be much foot traffic out there tonight. He needn't worry about the dog chasing anyone.
He opened the door and Sweet Thing shot out. By the time Connor reached the bottom step, the dog had disappeared around the corner of the house.
”Hey, girl, where are you going?”
A loud growl came from around the side of the house. Seconds later, he heard Sweet Thing snarling, and then a high-pitched scream.
Connor followed the sound to the stand of evergreens outside the gla.s.sed-walled conservatory that ran along the side of the house. He called the dog's name, and the snarling stopped, but the dog refused to leave the base of the pine she was anxiously pawing. Connor looked up and saw a figure less than eight feet overhead.
”Come down now, slowly. And when you hit the ground, I want you facedown in the dirt.”
The figure did not move.
”I'm going to say this one more time.” He drew his gun. ”And if you don't come down on your own, I'll shoot you down. Understand?”
”It bit me! The dog bit me!”
”If you don't start coming down from that tree, you're going to have more than a dog bite to worry about.”
”Make the dog go away.” The voice from the tree was smaller, younger than Connor had been expecting. ”Make it go away, and then I'll come down.”
Connor called the dog to him. This time, she obeyed and sat at his feet.
”Come down slowly, and step over here where I can see you.”
”You have a gun.”
”Yes.”
”Are you going to shoot me?”
”Only if you don't come down and do as I say. Lie on the ground, facedown, hands behind your back.”
The figure came down slowly, then backed away from the pine.
”Out here, away from the trees.” Connor gestured with the gun. ”Facedown on the gra.s.s.”
”Connor, what the h.e.l.l is going on out there?” Mia stood at the corner of the house. She took a few steps closer, then asked, ”And why are you holding a gun on that kid?”
Chief Thorpe slammed the back door of the patrol car and turned to Connor. ”You want to follow me down to the station? I'm a.s.suming you're going to want to do most of the questioning.”
”I do, thanks.” Connor watched the car carrying the young boy pull away from the front of the house. ”Think you could spare a man to keep an eye on the house here until I get back?”
”Sure.” Thorpe turned and waved to a young patrol officer who was chatting with two others down near the parking lot. ”O'Brien. I need you and your partner to watch the house until Agent s.h.i.+elds is finished with the suspect. Get Officer Silver up here with you.”
”Yes, sir.” The officer went off in search of his partner.
”I'm going to run inside and make sure the house is secured, but I should be right behind you, Chief,” Connor told him.
”I'll see you at the station.” Thorpe nodded and headed off for his vehicle.