Drop Dead Sexy

It wasn’t until that moment I noticed a box sitting at foot of the altar. I held my breath when Ezra threw back the cover. Then the air was filled with the distinctive clicking sound of rattlesnakes. “Oh my God, he’s a snake handler!”

Snake-handling churches were something of a legend in the Southern backwoods. Since you mainly heard whispers about them, you started to even doubt their existence. The crux of the church doctrine being that people handled poisonous snakes to allegedly prove their faith. They took Mark 16:18 about “taking up serpents” a little too literally. If you held the snake and didn’t get bitten, you got an A + for being faithful. If you did get bitten, you would get a big ol’ F, and most likely you’d be hospitalized or die for your blatant lack of faith. Snake-handling churches were illegal in Georgia, and they had all but disappeared from sight. I had no idea any were still in operation.

Zeke paled slightly “I don’t think you should tonight.”

Ezra shook his head. “But where is your faith, brother?”

“It is with you as always. It’s just I believe we should devote all our time tonight to the salvation of lost souls.”

As Ezra started toward the box, Catcher leaned over to whisper in my ear. “Get ready. Shit’s about to get real.”

I shoved him away and shot him a disapproving look. “Don’t curse in the house of the Lord.”

“This is a tent, Liv.”

“Same thing.”

I couldn’t argue with Catcher anymore. Instead, I was riveted by what was going on with Ezra and the snakes. Without a moment’s hesitation, Ezra shoved his hand inside the rattling box. He whirled around to the crowd and thrust two snakes into the air.

“Oh, hell no,” Catcher murmured under his breath. This time I didn’t bother chastising him since he was echoing my particular sentiment.

The musicians struck up a fast-paced hymn, and Ezra danced around, swinging the snakes around in sync with the music. At the same time, his brother wrung his hands and wore a petrified expression.

Leaning over to Catcher, I said, “What’s up with Zeke?”

“You mean is the fact he looks like he’s about to shit himself with fear part of the show? Like to amp up Ezra’s level of faith?”

“Exactly.”

“If it is, he should win an Oscar for his performance. The dude is actually breaking out in a sweat.”

With his back to the crowd, Ezra suddenly skidded to a stop. When he spun around, his face had contorted in agony. He stared at the congregation for a moment before his gaze dropped to his hand.

“Oh shit!” I exclaimed. The sight of one of the rattlesnakes fangs buried in Ezra’s right hand had made me forget my resolve about not cursing in church.

A scream erupted from Ezra’s lips as he flung the unattached snake in his left hand to the ground while he tried slinging off the attached one. The musicians cut the song abruptly short as they glanced around at each other.

“I don’t understand. He’s been bitten before,” the man beside me said.

“He has?” I questioned.

The man nodded. “But he’s never acted like that.”

When Ezra staggered back, he tripped over the box of snakes, sending it toppling over. The altar became filled with slithering rattlers. Screams broke out then as people started turning over chairs to try to get away.

“Fuck this,” Catcher said as he reached in his suit pocket. I widened my eyes when he produced not one but two pistols. He then started pushing and shoving his way through the crowd to get to the altar. Since I didn’t want to lose him, I grabbed hold of the back of his suit and followed along.

When we reached the altar, Catcher began firing at the snakes in rapid succession. This caused even more pandemonium to ensue. As Catcher went Dirty Harry on the serpents, I ran over to Ezra who was still held prisoner by the rattler on his wrist. My gaze spun around for a weapon. I grabbed the microphone stand and then began beating the snake off of Ezra.

Thankfully, it released its fangs, and using the stand, I flung it over to where Catcher was doing his High Noon shoot-out.

I turned back around to see Ezra collapse onto the stage. I jabbed a finger at Zeke. “Call 911. Now.”

Zeke jerked his cell out of his pocket and dialed while I knelt down beside Ezra. “First off, you need to keep still. The less you move, the less the venom can spread.”

He bobbed his head in acceptance of what I had said. “Ambulance is on its way,” Zeke said as Catcher came over to us.

I looked up at him and Catcher. “I need a sling to tie around his arm to keep the wounds immobile so the venom can’t spread as easily.”

“Handkerchief?” Zeke suggested as he started to reach for his back pocket.

“Too small.”

The next thing I knew Catcher jerked off his suit jacket and tie before ripping off his shirt. Seeing his sculpted bare chest rendered me immobile like being shot with a tranquilizer gun. At the sound of my name, I shook out of my stupor. “What?”

“I said use my shirt.”

“Oh, sorry. I zoned out for a moment.”

“That seems to happen to you whenever you see me without a shirt,” Catcher replied with a grin.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “I was mentally going over a checklist of what to do next.”