That was when Jeff darted forward so quickly that Lucas didn’t have time to react. Halcomb snarled as he squeezed his hands around Lucas’s throat. A violent forward pull sent both men crashing into each other, leaving Lucas to gasp for air as if nearly drowned. He tumbled onto the living room floor, the cross still in his grasp. Giant swallows refilled his deflated lungs. The air was redolent of sweet smoke. Red fruit. It was like tasting a scent, like walking into an overly perfumed room and smacking your tongue against the roof of your mouth.
The room became brighter. More real, like a yellowed photograph coming clear.
The room was brighter and Jeff was gone.
57
* * *
March 14, 1983
Twenty Minutes Before the Sacrament
AUDRA TRIED TO run. She caught a break and made for the trees behind the house, but she could hear them behind her, whooping and laughing as though it was all just a game. They cornered her, grabbed her by her arms and legs, and carried her back to the house while she wept for mercy. But she knew no clemency would be given, because this wasn’t about her. This was about the baby. She was little more than a host, and could mercilessly be disposed of.
They dropped her onto the floor in the center of the living room, and through her frantic, hysterical tears, Audra saw Maggie emerge from the kitchen. She was carrying what looked like party cups. “Drink,” she said, distributing the cups among the group. Kenzie and Nolan took turns holding Audra down as they gulped whatever it was Maggie had concocted.
Maggie paused next to Jeffrey. She placed a hand on his forearm in a thoughtful way. “Hard to believe we’re finally here,” she said.
“It is,” Jeffrey agreed. “But here we are.”
“We’re not in Kansas anymore,” Maggie said with a chuckle. “Just think of how far we’ve come since meeting in Veldt.”
Audra couldn’t put it together, didn’t understand what they were talking about, but she remembered then—Jeff had mentioned that they needed Maggie to take care of things. What things?
That’s when it hit her: they were really going to do it, they were going to kill her.
And what would become of the baby? What would become of her mother? Her father? How long would it be before her parents knew she was dead? Please, she thought, I take it back. I take it all back. I don’t want them to find me like this. Let it be the mailman, the meter reader, the police—anything but them.
Deacon approached her, and for a split second, Audra’s soul was ignited by hope. Maybe he was remembering the connection they had made on the beach, or felt pity for her and would somehow talk the group out of doing whatever it was they had planned. This isn’t the girl we want. We’ve made a mistake. Let’s move on, forget the whole thing.
Deacon knelt next to her, and for a moment she was sure he was her salvation. But his words brought promise of something else. “I always knew you were the one,” he said. “You’re scared now, but death is only temporary. Trust in this, Avis. Have faith.”
No. The word screamed through her head. They’re all crazy. She cried out, struggling against Noah’s and Kenzie’s grip. I have to get out of here, I have to save my baby. She opened her mouth to scream—one more attempt at protest. But she was gagged before she could pull in enough breath.
Deacon pressed a rag over her mouth. It was wet, choking her with the scent of alcohol, or maybe it was acetone. She continued to fight, trying to kick out her legs to get Deacon away. Except they were suddenly too heavy to move. Her hearing went fuzzy, as though she were drowning. Her vision blurred. She heard Shadow bark, watched Maggie’s fading figure catch him by the collar and pull him back while her dog yipped and tried to get to his owner.
The last thing she ever saw was Jeff leaning over her. He was smiling. And all she could think was that he was still beautiful. If she had just tried harder, maybe it would have been different.
Maybe it would have all worked out in the end.
58
* * *
VEE COULDN’T MOVE, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t look away as Jeffrey Halcomb grabbed her father and, in a shimmer of light, seemed to vaporize right before her eyes.
Astral projection, she thought.
Out-of-body experience.
Etheric travel.
But there was something about her father, something different. His eyes. His posture. The way he was now looking at her, a faint smile tugging at a single corner of his mouth.
“Do you trust me, Vivi?” His words released her from her stasis. The cross glinted in his hand. That nickname . . . her dad would never call her that.
“I do.” What? She listened to the words come out of her throat—words that she wasn’t saying but couldn’t stop. What’s happening to me? She fought against herself as she moved forward. Her hand extended out to reach for the man who looked like her father but was no longer her dad. She knew then; her father was gone, replaced by the one who had promised her happiness if she’d only forget. Forget he ever existed.
“Then don’t be afraid,” he said, catching her hand in his. The moment their fingers touched, Vee swayed on her feet. A sharp scent overwhelmed her. It smelled like a salon. Like nail polish remover. Suddenly she was tired, so tired, as though some inexplicable toxin had entered her bloodstream. Her tongue flicked out across her bottom lip, tasting sweet cherries, bitter almonds. Her gaze drifted to the kitchen, to the cherries that littered the orange-topped kitchen island. The mortar and pestle. The cherry pits she knew were there, ground into powder. Why would anyone grind cherry pits for cider? Why would anyone do that? Why?
“Close your eyes, Vivi,” he whispered, drawing her closer. “Long live, remember? Long live into forever.”
He drew his hand down her back, and Vee’s legs gave way. Her feet left the ground as the man with her father’s face lifted her up into his arms, moving into the circle of the dead.
She couldn’t have fought him if she wanted to. Her body, limp now, felt as though it weighed a thousand pounds.
59
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