King of Lies, page 22
A minute passed, and I had nothing.
“Well, then.” His fingers dropped to the fastening of his jeans. “I’ll go to the castle at dawn.” He grimaced as he peeled his jeans down over his lean thighs. “You know what the worst part is?”
“That you’re putting yourself in danger and I’m going to be doing nothing but sitting here and waiting?”
Naked now, August climbed onto the bed and straddled me. “No. That part’s fine.”
“What then?”
His lips twitched. “I won’t look good in that robe.”
“If they accept you.”
“They will,” he said with all the brash confidence I expected of him. “I’ll play them like a fiddle.”
“Like a what?”
“A fiddle. A violin.” He rolled his eyes. “We should have brought that encyclopedia with us. You could’ve educated yourself while I’m gone.” He went to climb off me, but I grabbed his hips and held him there. “I’m not seducing you,” he said. “You’ve had a shitty day.” He grimaced. “Not shitty. That doesn’t cover it.”
“I thought you were good with words,” I teased.
“Usually. Just… not around you.”
That confession made me smile. “What if I want to be seduced?”
He leaned forward, planting his elbows on either side of my head and staring into my eyes. “Are you sure?”
I reached for him, fusing my mouth to his and only answering the question when I came up for air. “Very sure.”
I needed this, something that wasn’t biters, death, infection, or destruction. And if I really couldn’t dissuade August from his plan, he’d be gone tomorrow. Who knew when I’d see him again. I refused to think if, but that didn’t stop the possibility from lurking in the back of my head.
Chapter Twenty-five
August
The morning began with Keaton and me having the same conversation we’d had the night before. It stalled at the same point too, Keaton unable to come up with a viable alternative that didn’t involve taking potshots at William Anderson with his crossbow, and then trying to outrun the men who’d come for revenge.
I’d left him everything of value I had, including my watch. That had been easy to part with. The horseshoe chain was much harder. I didn’t want to risk it being taken, and from what I’d seen, the Seekers weren’t big on personal possessions.
There’d been no tearful goodbye. In fact, it had barely been one at all, just my quiet assurance that he could trust me to do what needed to be done, and his quiet nod in return.
Now here I was, making my way up the cliff to the castle, eyes and ears open in case they had any defense measures in place. So far, there were none, but I was only halfway up. The proper test would be at the door.
I glanced back toward the beach. Could they have seen us with Madeleine the other day? The stake was visible, but from this distance, the three of us would have looked no bigger than ants.
Still no attack as the steps dwindled, until I stood before the massive wooden door, all limbs intact. So far, so good.
“Showtime,” I whispered as I knocked.
The door creaked open in under a minute, someone clearly stationed behind it.
The man who filled the doorway—and I mean filled—was tall and broad. His scowl said he didn’t appreciate visitors and would much rather not have to deal with them. His robe was so large I wondered how many normal-sized robes could be made from it. Two, maybe three.
“Hello there, friend,” I said, ignoring the glare. “And how are you this fine morning?”
“What d’ya want?”
Getting people to do what you wanted was mostly about choices—usually two. The right choice moved you forward, the wrong one, back. String enough right choices together and you achieved your goal. Enough bad forced you to retreat.
Here, my choice was simple: be direct, or spin an elaborate lie. I chose direct. “I seek an audience with William Anderson.”
A rumble started in his chest. It took me a second to recognize it as laughter. “Oh, you want an audience, do you? And what is it you want to talk about?”
“I’ve traveled many miles.” Not strictly a lie. I was just omitting the part about the motorbike and the companion. “At great personal risk to myself.” When the man simply looked bored at my proclamation, I scrapped the big sell and cut straight to it. “The Lord speaks to me. He has told me that there is only one man worthy of my services in the land.”
A spark of interest flickered in his brown eyes. “The Lord speaks to you, does he?”
“He does.” I nodded for emphasis. “He has shown me the way, and the path leads here, to this castle.” I gave a small bow. “So, I offer my services to the Beloved Father.”
The honorific stuck in my throat, but I made sure it didn’t show. William Anderson wanted people bowing, praising, telling him he was right. I could be that person for as long as it took to earn his trust. It would stick in my craw like nothing else ever had, but I’d do it.
“And what do you think you can do for the Beloved Father?”
“I will be his conduit. A messenger between him and the Lord. The Lord is pleased with what he has done so far, but believes he can do more.”
“Like what?”
This guy asked too many questions. I’d expected William Anderson to grill me, not his doorman. “The Lord wonders why Beloved Father does not spread his word far and wide, why he has stayed in this one castle. He believes there should be many castles. That it is selfish to focus on just the one.”
The man tilted his head. “Selfish, huh? I can’t wait to hear you tell him that. Can I watch?”
“They are not my words,” I said evenly. “They are the Lord’s. I am merely his messenger. I have no opinion except for what He tells me.” Right. That would be the day.
We locked eyes. I held steady, no blinking, no fidgeting, steadfast in my bullshit. Finally, he sighed. “Stay here. If he wants to see you, I’ll let you in. If he doesn’t, you’ll be sent on your way.”
I nodded and took a polite step back from the door. “Take your time. I’m in no rush. I shall enjoy the sea breeze, the view, and the birds while I wait.”
For the first ten minutes that passed, I did exactly that. The next ten were harder. Without my watch, my time-keeping might have gone to pot, but I didn’t think so. Anderson was testing me. A true devotee would wait as long as required. So I waited.
After half an hour, I sat. After an hour, I leaned against the cold stone wall of the castle, wondering what Keaton was doing. Given his silence on our first visit, I’d told him to make nice with the community we’d found. He needed food, and they had it. Whether he’d listen, I had no idea. Keaton was a survivor, though. You couldn’t be in the army and not be one, so I had faith he’d still be there when this was done. Besides, he had to eat and stay alive to exact vengeance, so he’d do what needed to be done.
After two hours, my eyes started to close. In a world populated with biters, it wasn’t wise to fall asleep in an exposed place for fear of waking to find your face being chewed off. The steps might deter them, but then again they might not. There were those who were more determined than others.
I paced, disguising it as a casual stroll. If I were Anderson, I’d be watching. I’d sit and watch the threat until I believed it posed no danger. With that in mind, I pasted a suitably urbane expression on my face.
Would they leave me out here all night? After dark, it’d get far more dangerous up here, with no way of seeing approaching biters until they were virtually on top of me. And even if I could see them, defending myself without so much as a knife tucked in my boot would be a challenge.
Purple and red streaked the sky as the sun sank lower, announcing my wait as having reached the twelve-hour mark. The steps back down the cliff would be too dangerous to navigate soon, and I’d have no choice but to stay. I reckoned I had another hour, ninety minutes at most, before I had to make that decision.
Not long after that, the door creaked open to reveal the same behemoth of a man standing in the gap. He had a grin on his face. “Still here, huh?”
August would’ve told him where to shove that smile. I wasn’t August, though. And wouldn’t be for some time.
“The Lord told me to wait,” I said calmly. “And I do as the Lord commands. If he wanted me to stay here all night, I would. If he wanted me to give my life to the dark servants, I would.”
He looked me over. “I bet you’re thirsty. Hungry too?”
“I am,” I admitted in the same even tone. “But the wants of the body are nothing but a test. Lust. Anger. Greed. They are the weaknesses of the dark servants. We are better… stronger. Do you not agree?”
“Save your speech for Beloved Father.” He jerked his head over his shoulder. “Follow me. He wants to see you right away.”
Right away, and keeping me waiting for an entire day did not go together, but I remained silent. Something told me I’d be biting my tongue a lot here. Enough that I might wish Oz had cut it out.
The man led me across a grassy courtyard, some of it farmed, through another door and into the castle proper. Compared to the outside, it was pleasantly cool within.
“May I know your name, friend?” I asked.
“Bruce.”
Since he didn’t ask mine, I didn’t provide it. Six corridors and a spiral staircase later, we reached a door. I took a steadying breath in as Bruce knocked on it and then pushed it open without waiting for a reply. This was the true test. Everything else up to this point had been child’s play. Anderson wouldn’t be a fool. But then I didn’t need to be the cleverest person in the world. I just needed to be cleverer than he was.
Inside, William Anderson sat at a long table with a young woman straddling his lap. Bruce showed no surprise. I allowed myself only the barest flicker, figuring it would be more authentic than no emotion. Too much reaction would be dangerous.
The robe hid enough that I couldn’t tell what stage their coitus had reached. I assumed—hoped—that she was one of his wives. Maybe not, though. Maybe we’d interrupted the audition process for the newest one.
I took him in at a glance. Early forties by my calculation. Dark hair graying at the temples. Brown eyes. A slightly crooked nose that suggested a past break. Thin lips. Handsome in a slightly oily way, although the position we’d found him in, that he didn’t seem to give two hoots about, was influential in that impression.
Bruce bowed. “You said right away, Father.”
“I did.” The faint alien twang in Anderson’s voice reminded me he’d come from overseas. It wasn’t an impossible feat, but it was unusual. “Stephanie needed some counseling.”
Counseling! It was all I could do to keep a straight face. Who counseled someone with their dick?
Anderson leaned forward to whisper something in Stephanie’s ear. She nodded and then climbed off. I averted my gaze as he readjusted his robe, pretending to offer discretion. The real reason was having no wish to see his dick. Not erect. Not flaccid. Not at all.
She disappeared through a back door I assumed led to his bedroom. Once she’d gone, Anderson dismissed Bruce with a flick of his hand. The big man retreated, but only as far as the corridor, the door staying open. Wise of him. It told me Anderson was a cautious man.
“So,” he said, leaning back in his chair. A faded emblem that must have been quite magnificent in its day hung on the wall behind him. “Bruce says you’ve come to offer your services.” He left a deliberate pause to see if I’d fill it. I didn’t. “I’m listening.”
I weighed what little I knew of him against what I didn’t want to do. If this was going to work, it was all or nothing, and nothing wasn’t an option.
Rounding the table, I dropped to my knees and bowed my head. “Thank you for seeing me, Beloved Father. The Lord sent me here to be of assistance. I am nothing but a servant in his divine plan.”
Silence. He chewed my words over while I kept my gaze fixed on the floor, the subservient pose making me feel slightly nauseous.
“I understand you have visions.”
“I do.”
“Of what?” He shifted in his chair. “You may look at me.”
So fucking kind. I lifted my gaze obediently. “Visions of your good work. Your fight against corruption. How you spread His word. The battle to stay pure. Your actions please the Lord.”
“But?” I feigned confusion at the question. “If he is pleased, then why send you?”
“To help. To be of counsel. To be a messenger.”
He studied me, expression unreadable. “How about we start with your name?”
I almost chose Tobias Breeze. I’d grown oddly fond of that name. But that was a reason not to use it. It was better to start afresh. “Grayson Henry. People call me Gray.”
“What people? Do you have a family, Gray? Wife? Parents? Dog?”
“I have no one.”
Something about that amused him. “So you come seeking a family?”
“I do.”
He leaned forward in his chair, his expression intense. “Do you know how we test purity here, Gray?”
So, it was a test now, was it? Last week, a punishment, this week, a test. It was hard to keep up in this place. “You send people out into the rain. If they survive, they’re worthy. If not, they become dark servants.”
“And would you accept such a test?”
I did a quick calculation in my head. It was another choice that straddled the line between success and failure. “I would. But it would be a pointless endeavor.”
“Oh?” The slight frown said he wasn’t following.
“I’ve been in the rain many times. I’ve also been bitten. The infection doesn’t take.”
Excitement lit up his face. “You are blessed?”
“If blessed means immune, then yes. I am not familiar with all the phraseology of the Seekers. My visions show me a lot, but I don’t imagine they show me everything.”
“We have no one like you here. Once, back in Canada, but…” He trailed off, shaking his head, as if realizing he’d said too much. “The past doesn’t matter.” His eyes narrowed. “Why you?”
“The Lord chose me. I think he wanted to ensure I couldn’t be swayed from my mission and would never join the ranks of the dark servants.”
“That would make sense,” William mused. “Why now, though? You’re what—late twenties? Why wait until now?”
“The Lord only recently granted me the third eye. It took time to interpret the visions, to work out what they were telling me. Once I had, I made my way here.” I bowed my head again. “Will you accept my service, Beloved Father?”
A clammy hand settled on the back of my neck. I forced myself not to shudder and recoil from the feel of his fingers. And definitely not to think about where they might have been when Stephanie had been on his lap. “Will you have a vision for me now, my child?”
Sure. Press a button. Out pops a vision. Was this guy for real? “I’m afraid they don’t work like that.”
“How do they work?”
“They come when I least expect them. Sometimes in the middle of the night. Sometimes first thing in the morning. I can’t summon them. I wish I could.”
“Hmm.” The single word was rife with displeasure, the fingers on the back of my neck tightening before William realized and relaxed them. “Then I suppose I have little choice but to wait. How long do you think it will be?”
“Soon,” I said, lifting my head to free myself from his touch. It didn’t stop the imprint of his fingers from lingering.
He turned to the door. “Bruce. Find our newest recruit a robe, then food. Once his stomach is full, find him a bed.”
I climbed to my feet, glad to be off my knees. The only time I’d ever kneeled for someone before today was to give them a blow job. “You are generous to a fault, Beloved Father. The Lord told me so, but it is more impressive to witness firsthand.” Taking my cue, I followed Bruce out.
After a bowl of watery soup so inferior to Oz’s that I almost felt guilty for not appreciating his culinary efforts more, and some water, Bruce led me to a small room at the top of the castle and locked me in.
No surprise there. In fact, a lack of caution would have disappointed me. The Seekers had prevailed for several years, and that wouldn’t have been the case if they had been prone to inviting strangers into their midst and letting them wander around at will. It didn’t make any difference. I already knew this was a long game, and that Anderson required careful handling.
There was little of anything in the room except for a thin mattress and an even thinner blanket. I’d slept in worse places. I eyed the robe I’d been given, lip curling. At least it went over clothes. Bruce had pulled his up a few inches to demonstrate, explaining the fabric could be itchy against bare skin.
I drifted to the narrow window slit, the moonlight spilling in stopping the room from being pitch black. I missed my candle. And my bike. And my leather jacket. Most of all, I missed Keaton, which I still struggled to wrap my head around. Even after I’d taken him home, introduced him to my grandma, let him sleep in my bed, killed his sister so he didn’t have to, and come here for no other reason than him.
Although I had to admit that now I’d met William Anderson, he bothered me. I pondered my reasons while I stared out into the dark night, the sky cloudless enough for stars to be seen. What did it matter that he liked to take multiple wives? Many men would in his position. They wouldn’t require an audition process that included exposure to the red rain, though.
There were far more women than men here; I’d seen that as we’d traveled the castle, the Seekers recruitment drive obviously centered on women. Young, vulnerable women like Keaton’s sister, looking for their place in the world, who needed to believe they were important to someone. Even if that someone was a sleazy Canadian, who played them off against each other, and used religion to shape them into the perfect subservient wife.
