The Priest's Fire (Heinous Crimes Unit Book 2), page 16
Lucy entered the apartment and went to the closet. She had bought the whip when she got the apartment but hadn’t used it. How many years had it been since she and her father had taken something very similar across their backs? A decade, maybe?
Lucy undressed and folded her clothes before placing them on the bed. She knelt at the bed’s foot, letting her bottom touch her heels. She brought the whip up in front of her and looked at it. It wasn’t the cat-o-nine tails that she and her father had used, but Lucy knew that with her strength and enough focus, she could reach God.
She raised the whip in the air and slammed her arm across her chest, the leather strap slapping down on her back. Pain raged across her flesh, but she didn’t slow down. She had to keep going.
Again the whip went up, and again it came down. Over and over, until she felt her back grow wet and her arm tired. Then, as Daddy had taught her, she switched arms and started again.
Finally, the pain grew too much, and her vision became hazy.
Lucy smiled as she fell to the side and blackness took over, allowing the God she believed in to enter her.
Hours passed in the darkness, but there was no doubt that the sun had risen outside. The heat crept up on Christian, and everyone else inside the small building, like a thief ready to steal the water from their bodies.
Christian hadn’t moved at all but his shirt was soaked. Not only from the blood that still dripped from the Other’s hands and mouth but because of his sweat, too.
Veronica had managed to scrape the tape from her mouth as Tommy had, using the concrete floor, but they all sat in silence. It was nearly too hot to talk.
“Christian,” Luke said, his voice quiet but still able to be heard by all. “You awake?”
“Yes,” he whispered.
“Tell me what you were looking at earlier.”
Christian swallowed, his throat still hurting from the night before, but the pain had dulled some. “Nothing.”
“You’re lying. If it was nothing, you would have said you didn’t know what I was talking about,” Luke said.
No one else spoke.
“It’s important, Christian. If you’re hallucinating, it could mean severe dehydration.”
“Honey, tell him,” his mother said.
“I’m not hallucinating, Mom. Listen, Luke, ever since I was a boy, my mind has projected images of people when I’m feeling overwhelmed. You know what I’m talking about, Mom. That’s all this is. Just an image.”
Luke waited a few seconds and then said, “Of what?”
“It’s not important.”
“It is to me.”
Christian gritted his teeth and felt the same rage he’d unleashed on Lucy trying to rise up. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Why?” Luke said.
“Because he doesn’t, Luke. Let it drop,” Tommy said from the other side of the room.
Christian didn’t want anyone to know, because what he saw was insane. A bloodied, endlessly smiling version of himself who said sick things. Things he would never have considered before the goddamn voice showed up inside his head. To let someone know about it would let them see he was losing his mind.
That’s why you should tell someone, Melissa said.
Christian couldn’t see her in the darkness.
No, a deeper part of him said. Don’t say anything.
A memory came back, of standing inside a former FBI agent’s house and looking at Luke. The FBI agent was dead, as was his wife. The way Luke stared at the bodies had moved something inside Christian, leading him down a path to believing his partner was a murderer.
That same piece of Christian that warned him then was warning him now.
Stop it, he thought. Just stop. You’re dehydrated and kidnapped, so you’re making up crazy fucking ideas that have no basis in reality.
Perhaps that’s what pushed him to speak. His will to trust Luke and ignore the only voice in the room that was truly his own.
Christian relaxed his jaw, realizing he was still grinding his teeth. He sighed. “It started six months ago. Around the time she got Goleen. Usually, when I see these things, it’s either my mom or my therapist, and they try to steer me the right way. I know it’s how my mind calms me down and gives me direction based on what it thinks they’d say, but it helps. Six months ago. Jesus, this is a lot, Luke. Are you sure you want to hear it?”
“Yes.”
“You know about the mansion in my head. I’ve told you about it. Well, six months ago a voice started talking to me inside it. I didn’t know what it meant, only that it hadn’t happened before. It shouldn’t have been there. That mansion is mine, and for me. Not for anything else. But it wouldn’t leave. I stopped going inside, and I think you and Tommy both know my work suffered. I was scared, but when she took you, I went back. I’ve been going back to keep learning about this fucking bitch, and the voice keeps talking. It’s saying it’s me.”
He stopped, not wanting to go any further.
“Is it?” Luke asked.
“Who else could it be? It’s in my head. Of course, it’s me.”
“Then what’s the problem?” Veronica said.
Christian shook his head, although no one could see him. He didn’t want her to hear this, perhaps more than anyone else in the room. His mother would love him no matter what, and his partners were his partners. Veronica could leave him at any moment. If any of them made it out of here alive.
No, Christian. You shouldn’t tell Luke.
He threw the thought away.
“The problem is, the image my mind shows is me, but it’s different. My hands are covered in blood. I’m smiling, and what I say, that’s not me. It’s not the things I think or believe.”
“You know what I’m going to ask, don’t you?” Luke said.
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
No one said anything for a moment, and then his mother spoke. “Honey, we don’t have a lot going on in here, so maybe you could tell us just to keep our minds busy. Maybe Dr. Titan here can help you, or maybe your mind’s trying to tell you what you should be doing.”
Another push in the direction Christian didn’t want to go. A push that he couldn’t deny. His mother was his life.
“It’s telling me to kill her. It’s been telling me that she has to die for what she’s done. She has to pay for this, for all of it. It’s what I was talking about inside the trunk, Luke. That’s what it’s telling me.”
“You don’t think the voice is right?
“You asked me the same thing in the car, but you argued the other side.”
“I wasn’t tied to a cross at the time. It’s changed my perspective some.” Luke chuckled. “Why are you so against her death?”
“It’s not that I’m against her dying. I’m against the reason I want her dead. It’s vengeance. It’s hate. That’s not who I am.”
“Sometimes situations dictate we change who we are, Christian. Do you remember what you did to Bradley Brown? You used his memories to change his actions, and it worked. It gave me time to get in there and stop him. Only, no one is coming this time. If you’re going to save us, you might have to embrace those feelings. It might be the only way.”
Tommy was silent in the dark room, listening to his two partners talk. Mrs. Windsor threw in a few cents every now and then, but he didn’t pay much attention to her.
Luke’s words were…different.
In fact, Luke was talking in a way that Tommy had never heard before. This might be the psychiatrist version of him that Tommy didn’t know, but even so, it didn’t feel right.
What he said made sense. If Christian could talk this psycho into freeing him, they’d have a chance at getting out of here. If Christian had to act a certain way for that to happen, then so be it, but Tommy didn’t like it. He didn’t like how Luke had driven the kid to talk when it was clear he didn’t want to. During a time when they could have been planning an escape, and if not an escape, then something that might help when she returned, they were instead psychologically evaluating Christian.
But maybe that was what they needed to do, maybe that was the plan.
Tommy stopped thinking and spoke. “Look, we need to get an idea of what we’re going to do when she returns. I’ve thought about chewing through the damn ropes, but it’ll be impossible. They’re too thick and our jaws would fail before we even got close.”
The conversation between the two had ended a minute ago, and the room was silent again as everyone took in Tommy’s words.
When Luke spoke, Tommy somehow felt that he’d been waiting a long time to say what he did.
“The only path out of this is if Christian embraces his mind. He’s got to free us.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Lucy woke up. Her head hurt, but not nearly as much as her back. She didn’t move for quite some time, fearing the pain that would erupt when she did. She had felt this kind of pain before, but the fear of it was almost as bad as the actual hurt.
She looked out the window in her bedroom, a tiny thing, and saw that the sun was setting. She’d slept the entire day, but that was fine.
She’d seen Daddy in her dream, and she knew that the Lord had sent him to talk with her. Christian was the correct person, the sword that her tiny community had always believed in. He would bring destruction to the wicked.
Yet, he wasn’t there yet, and that’s what Daddy had shown her how to fix.
Momma hadn’t been there yet. To be fair, she never made it, but Christian would. Lucy just had to teach him how to get there.
Lucy finally stood up and went to the mirror in her bathroom. She turned around and looked over her shoulder to see the damage. It was bad. Blood caked her flesh. She needed bandages and antibacterial salve, but that would have to wait until tomorrow morning. Everything would be finished then. Lucy knew she only needed tonight.
Christian would learn the same way Lucy had, the same way her father had, and his before him. Through pain.
The Lord always taught His lessons through that medium.
Lucy arrived at the storage unit just after midnight. She hadn’t wanted to show up any earlier since more of the town’s people would be awake. Midnight, she figured, would see most of them at home in bed, giving her space and time to work.
She maneuvered the vehicle so that it faced the storage unit and kept its lights blaring. The unit wouldn’t be as illuminated, but her solution should work.
Lucy brought the whip with her as she stepped from the car. She stood for just a second with the door open, deciding whether to bring the other thing. Even if she didn’t use it, having it with her was better than not.
She reached back in and grabbed it from the passenger seat, then closed the door before walking to the unit. Using her key, she unlocked the padlock, took a step back, and pulled the pistol from her waistband.
She would need to do this quickly. If they had somehow managed to get loose, they’d be waiting to attack. The car lights would blind them, and her pistol would do the rest.
Lucy grabbed the door and flung it open with all her strength, her back crying out in angry protest. Ignoring it the best she could, Lucy jumped back and leveled the gun at the inside of the unit.
The car lights cast long shadows on the floor. A small sigh escaped her lips. Everyone was mostly in the same place she’d left them. The demon had fallen and was lying on the cross instead of hanging from it.
Lucy walked in and went to Christian. No one else mattered right now. Just him and his need to understand what he was supposed to be. She could deal with the rest later, once this matter was finished.
She knelt and set the gun behind her, making sure it was far enough away to avoid any possible tricks. She still held the whip.
“Cuh-Cuh-Cuh.” Lucy paused, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. When she opened them, she looked around the room again, seeing the other faces. Everyone was silent, all waiting on her to speak.
She brought her eyes back to Christian. “Hey.” Another deep breath. “I know why you yuh-yelled at me earlier, and I’m not muh-mad about it.”
Christian’s eyes looked black in the gloomy lighting. He said nothing.
“I went and I prayed. God answers you when you honestly turn to Him. You just have to seek His will and not yuh-yuh-your own. Buh-before, I just wanted to see you anointed as His sword, but that isn’t what God wants. Not at first. You must go through your trial by fire. You must be born again in the same way that I was, and Daddy, and everyone else. Then… Then, you’ll see.” Her eyes were wet. She hadn’t spoken this much truth to anyone since Daddy died. “I know this is going to hurt. It’s essential, though.”
Lucy picked the whip up and wasted no time. She knew the order this would take.
She raised it high. Her back once again begged her to stop, but she paid it no mind. She slammed the whip down across Christian’s chest.
He let out a loud scream, but Lucy barely heard it. The whip went up and then came down. Christian tried to move out of the way, squirming like a worm being toyed with by cruel children, but he couldn’t escape. He couldn’t resist God’s holy trial.
Finally, he balled up and tried to block his face, but Lucy didn’t care about that. His shoulders, his back, his chest, legs, or face. All of it was the same. All of it serving the Lord’s greater purpose.
His screams didn’t stop and neither did the ones coming from those around him. Everyone was begging her to stop, threatening to kill her, and on and on, like the heathens they were.
Christian didn’t move at all. He lay there as the whip slapped against his wet shirt. In the poor lighting, Lucy couldn’t tell if it was blood or sweat, but that was nonessential. Blood needed to be spilled. A lot of it.
“There,” she said, losing her stutter totally in the moment. Christian was subdued and she needed him that way for what came next.
Lucy went to the back of the unit and grabbed the metal wire she had used on Goleen and Titan. She walked it to the car and laid it next to the front wheel. When she returned to the unit, she paused and took in the mood. The screaming had stopped from the peanut gallery, and now she heard sobs.
They would cry harder before this ended.
She dragged Christian to the car and tossed him onto the hood. He landed hard, bending the metal beneath him. He lay still, his chest heaving.
Using the wire, she tied his hands to the side mirrors. Then, stretching the length of the wire, she bound his feet to the car’s tires. He would be able to move some, but that was what the beating had been for. He wouldn’t have enough energy to struggle.
She turned around and looked into the unit. One more thing.
Lucy walked to Titan and lifted his cross, so that he hung upside down, staring at Christian.
“Please,” Mrs. Windsor said, her voice barely a whisper. “Please don’t do this.”
“When it’s done, he’ll be better for it, and so will you.”
Lucy ignored the rest of the pleas and went to the car. She pulled the object from her pocket—a scalpel.
“You told me you would flay my skin, and when I prayed, God showed me how purposeful all your words are, Christian. You were showing me what I have to do to you, to make you understand.”
Christian felt as if his bones and muscle had turned to razor blades. He could barely move, and when he did, his body screamed with the fury of a thousand hurricanes.
He saw the Priestess standing above him, but barely heard anything she said. Her words were lost in the winds of pain soaring through his body.
Then she pulled something from her pocket.
Christian lifted his head slightly and saw the metal gleam beneath the moonlight. A scalpel. He dropped his head back, hitting the metal hard.
She walked toward him, her footsteps echoing in the silence. She lifted his shirt up. He didn’t want to look down and see what she’d already done. The pain was enough.
Christian felt the first incision just above his right nipple. He let out a gasp, but he didn’t scream.
Well, what do you think? Are you going to let her skin you alive?
Christian turned his head to the right and saw the other version of himself standing there. The blood that dripped from him was black in the moonlight. He had rolled his shirt sleeves up and Christian saw that the blood extended to his elbows, as if he had thrust both hands deep into a cow’s exposed innards.
The scalpel cut across Christian’s skin slowly, peeling back flesh with each millimeter Lucy moved it. Tears flooded Christian’s eyes and he let out another gasp. Finally, the scalpel stopped moving and Christian forced himself to look.
The Priestess held a strip of his skin and blood flowed greedily across his torso, as if it wanted to cover every inch of him and wouldn’t stop until it succeeded.
“I don’t like doing this, but it’s essential,” the woman said. There was no emotion in her voice.
Christian’s head fell against the car.
You can make her kill herself right now, and you know it, the Other said. Just do it. Stop all of this.
“Christian!”
He lifted his head again, hearing Luke’s call. Luke’s body sagged against the wires binding him.
“Listen to yourself,” he said. “It’s the only way.”
“Shut up, demon!” Lucy screamed, whipping around to stare at Luke. He said nothing else and she turned back to Christian. “Are you beginning to see?”
Christian closed his eyes and made the decision.
“I see…a little girl…who can’t stop stuttering,” he whispered. “Do you see her?”
Lucy was standing over Christian again and had just slid the scalpel beneath his skin. She looked up but he didn’t bother raising his head. His eyes remained closed as his mind fed him the necessary information.
“Tell me, Lucy, can you see her? Stuttering all the time. What did the kids in school do to you for it? Those were rough times weren’t they?”
“Stop, Cuh-cuh-Christian. Stop. That’s not fuh-fuh-funny.”
