“Call me cynical,” he said, “but I’ve come to believe that most people who follow a total wack job aren’t always true believers. They just like to follow. They like the perks. Makes them feel strong. Kind of weakens your faith in fruitcake fanatics.”
Lilah goggled at him. “Would you have really thrown the grenade?”
Joe grinned. “What do you think?”
Lilah nodded, then asked, “If we meet more reapers, will they all do that?”
He shook his head. “Sadly . . . no. Some of them are true believers, and those you have to deal with.” He paused. “And there are a few of them who are way past simply believing. There are some who really won’t care if you shoot them or maim them, and they will crawl on broken knees through hell itself to take you with them. Saint John’s like that. And Brother Peter. You don’t talk with them, you don’t screw around. If you are ever unfortunate enough to be face-to-face with either of them—you take your shot before you take your next breath. ’Cause otherwise it will be your last breath.”
She frowned. “You’re afraid of Saint John?”
Joe put his hands on her shoulders. “Lilah, there’s not a living soul on this planet who shouldn’t be afraid of Saint John.”
He got back on the quad, and they roared off toward the plateau.
72
MOTHER ROSE STOOD IN THE SHADE OF A MASSIVE COTTONWOOD TREE. Brother Alexi stood behind her, his massive hammer standing on its head, the handle leaning against the tree trunk. Other reapers—all trusted members of her inner circle, her chosen ones—stood in a loose ring around them. In the middle of this ring was a ragged prisoner, a stocky man with a Hawaiian face and curly black hair. He knelt directly in front of Mother Rose, and she towered over him, dominating him with her personal power as well as the evident control she held over his life.
The Hawaiian bowed his head.
“—and this girl who was leading you,” said Mother Rose, “her name was Riot?”
“Yes, ma’am,” mumbled the prisoner.
“She was leading all of Carter’s people through the woods?”
There was a pause before the man said, “Carter wasn’t our leader. We’re all from Treetops. No one elected him ‘king.’ We all fought our way out.”
Mother Rose flicked a glance at Alexi, who mouthed the word “Bingo.”
“What is your name?” she asked.
“Mako,” said the Hawaiian. “Like the shark.”
“It is my belief, Brother Mako,” said Mother Rose, “that Carter presumed leadership of your group only because he had a relationship with Riot.”
“I guess. Carter’s always been an arrogant . . . ” Mako let the rest go. “The two of them were thick as thieves, ever since we met her.”
“They are both sinners,” said Mother Rose.
Mako hesitated, then nodded. “I guess so.”
“I know so. Sinners and heretics who care only for themselves. Tell me what happened.”
Mako glanced at the reapers, then risked a look up at Mother Rose, who gave him an encouraging smile.
“I don’t want to die,” said Mako. Fear and defiance warred on his face. “I don’t owe a damn thing to Carter. I . . . don’t want to die.”
“Death waits for all sinners,” said Mother Rose. “But for those who serve the will of God . . . there is always a chance for a new life.”
Mako blinked in confusion. “But . . . I thought . . . the reapers . . . ”
Mother Rose bent and caressed the man’s bruised cheek. “The world is full of mysteries, and the Lord Thanatos moves in such unexpected ways.”
“Wait . . . I . . . ”
She bent closer still and whispered in Mako’s ear. “A new world is waiting to be born. If there is something you know—a word, a name—something you ache to tell me . . . then that name will buy your way into a new paradise. And no, my friend, I am not talking about the darkness. This is no trick. This new world will be right here. This world. Our world.”
“You promise?”
“On my life,” she assured him. “Now . . . tell me.”
Mako leaned back and studied her face, looking for the lie. Finding none.