“Thank you,” said Justin cordially. Mae had to give him points for looking perfectly at ease. He sat on a pew in the back and then beckoned her to join him. “Please, carry on,” he called.
Even she could see how contrived Golden Arrow’s simpering smile was. But after a melodramatic half bow, he returned to his ceremony. The Greek chanting gave way to English, in which Golden Arrow begged Apollo to grace his humble servants with his bliss. He began a refrain that the worshippers echoed as they stomped out a steady beat on the floor. The words grew faster and louder, filling the space with a buzz that set her teeth on edge. Then, through some unseen signal, the noise abruptly stopped. The congregation seemed to hold its breath as it watched Golden Arrow experience what seemed like a cross between a seizure and an orgasm. Maybe, in some cases, the two acts weren’t always that different.
Golden Arrow shook violently and fell to his knees, head tilted back and mouth open as he let out a low moan of joy. A rapture even greater than what he’d shown earlier lit his features, and it only seemed to grow more intense when he lay prone on the floor and continued to writhe around. He finally stilled and grew quiet, gasping in a way that made Mae wish she could offer him a cigarette. The two robed women helped Golden Arrow stand and face the congregation.
“Who will the god choose to share his ecstasy today?”
All of the worshippers dropped to their knees and stared upward with eager expressions. Golden Arrow walked among them, peering closely at each face. At last, he stopped in front of a middle-aged woman, murmuring, “Share in the union of our god.”
Her face shone, and she followed him back toward the front of the room. There, she fell on her knees, head lowered.
“Here we go,” Justin said.
Golden Arrow cupped the woman’s face with his hands, saying a quiet prayer Mae couldn’t hear. A few moments later, the woman had a startling reaction that mirrored his earlier one. She took on that same orgasmic look, complete with the uncontrollable writhing on the floor. Everyone watched in awe, and when the fit finally passed, Golden Arrow’s assistant helped her back to her seat. He then repeated the process with a young man who looked barely out of high school.
Mae was aghast. She whispered, “It’s fake, right?”
“That part is.” It was a weird word choice. “The question is who’s faking it. Him or them.”
“One more,” the priest intoned. “The god will share his grace with one more. Dr. March, would you like to experience the light of Apollo?”
All eyes turned toward them again. Justin said nothing, and Mae could guess his thoughts. Golden Arrow had timed this ceremony with Justin’s visit and was now openly inviting him to participate in a “miracle.” There was a dangerous look in the priest’s eye that put her on alert. He expects something to happen. He knows it will. Justin had said miracles were always disproven. It’d be a big coup for a group to demonstrate an act of divinity on the person sent to debunk it—which meant, of course, that Justin couldn’t do it. She could see Justin analyzing all of these things, and suddenly, a smile appeared. He turned to her and rested his hand on hers, leaning so close that his lips nearly brushed her cheek.
“Do you trust me?” Before she could answer that disconcerting question, he added, “At least as far as this stuff and our country go?”
Mae glanced up at him and met his penetrating gaze. Did she trust him? Not with women, of course. She thought about everything she’d seen in these last couple of weeks, the way he so keenly observed others in his job, jumping on the tiniest signs of danger. And as for his country? Yes. If nothing else, she believed in his devotion to it. She gave a small nod, and he turned toward Golden Arrow in triumph.
“Thank you for the offer,” Justin told him. “But I think I’ll pass this time. My lovely friend here, however, would love to commune with your god.”
Mae jerked her head toward Justin in alarm, but his attention was all on Golden Arrow. The priest looked disappointed at first but then smiled and shrugged. A servitor’s companion was just as good. He gestured for her to follow him.
Trust me, Justin’s eyes seemed to tell her. Nodding more to herself than him, she rose and walked toward the church’s front. Neurotransmitters surged within her at this threat, and that dark power began to settle upon her, weighing down her steps. For once, Mae didn’t entirely fear it. It was almost like armor.