“Why are you people hunting Eve’s family?” Benny asked.
“Eve?” asked the reaper, smiling faintly. “Eve died in the morning of the world, wrapped in the withered arms of Adam. Cain the betrayer buried them in the dust beyond the gates of Eden. Or so says the false bible.”
“Ooo-kay,” said Benny softly. “That’s great. Exactly what we need while we’re running for our lives. Big help. Thanks, man.”
The man laid his palm flat over the angel wings on his chest. “Do you not know me, holy one? I am Saint John of the Knife, first of your reapers, guide and guardian of your flock. It was through me that you opened the first red mouth in the flesh of the infidel. It was with my hand, my blades, that you let the darkness flow from this world of pain and into the infinite peace of nothingness.”
He turned and gestured toward the northern stretch of the woods, where the sound of the quads could still be heard faintly.
“We are abroad in this blighted land to offer priceless gifts to all the scattered children of a false and fallen god,” said Saint John. “We have been faithful and dutiful in our ministry. We have given the gift of darkness to so many . . . ah, so many. Soon we will sweep these lands clear of the last blasphemers. The physical world belongs to the gray wanderers. The children of flesh are called to join with the eternal darkness. Such is the will of the one true god, Thanatos—all praise to his darkness.”
Benny and Nix just stared at him. Benny had no idea how to respond.
“How do you know my name?” Nix asked again.
Saint John continued, “Together we will watch the silence and the darkness wrap the world in the garments of purity and eternal peace. Tell me, holy one, is . . . that why you are here? Is that why you have taken physical form and come here with your knight? Are you here to walk among your sacred reapers?”
“Are . . . you crazy?” asked Benny reasonably. “Is that it? I just want to know so I can find some useful place to stand in this conversation.”
“Look,” said Nix, “I don’t know how you know my name or who you think we are, but we are not a part of this. None of it. We’re just a couple of kids traveling through. We only met Carter for a minute and—”
The man ignored her words. He took one more step closer, peering at them, looking into their eyes. “You are not with Carter, I can see that much. You say that you are children, and yet when I look into your eyes I see that darkness has already taken hold of you. You are angels of the darkness, even if you are still dressed like children of the heretics. You are reapers of the scattered fields. I can see it in your eyes. You have given the gift of darkness to others. Many others.”
Benny felt something twist inside his heart. The gift of darkness. He had no idea what religion this man was supposed to belong to, but it was pretty clear what the ‘darkness’ was.
Death.
But how was death a gift? How did that make any sense, especially in a world where life was rare and so very precious?
At the same time, it unnerved him that this maniac could somehow tell that he and Nix had killed people. Since that terrible night when Mrs. Riley was murdered, Nix and Benny had been in several bloody confrontations, first with Charlie Pink-eye’s gang and then with Preacher Jack’s killers at Gameland. They had plenty of blood on their hands; and the fact that the men they’d killed were absolutely evil did very little to help either of them sleep at night. The fact remained that they had both taken human lives. That fact had gouged marks into each of their souls that no amount of justification could remove.
And this man could see that.
How? Who was he?
Run, warned Tom again, get away from him. Go—now!