"Kava, Alex - Maggie 03 - The Soul Catcher" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kava Alex)

Justin jumped at the sound of his voice, then automatically stood, wondering if he would need to sit on the floor now. Hadn't Alice told him that Father's head had to be above everyone else's? Or did it not count when no one else was around to see? Shit! He wished he had talked to Alice before coming.
"Sit down," Father said, pointing to Justin's chair. "I've been meaning to talk to you since Saturday night." He sat in the leather chair facing Justin's.
He watched the reverend's face, looking for signs of anger or that scowl he had perfected, the one that could turn men to stone and probably make women sterile. Who knew what powers this guy possessed. But, instead, Father's face was calm and serious but friendly.
"I know you must be confused by what you think you saw on the bus coming back Saturday evening."
Oh, shit! He was actually going to make them discuss this. Justin shifted, making the leather of his chair crackle. "I was sorta half-asleep," he attempted.
"Yes, I thought perhaps you had been. That's why I think you may have misunderstood what you saw." Father sat back and crossed his leg with his right ankle resting on the knee of his left leg, making himself comfortable yet looking in complete control. "You know, Justin, I must constantly test all my followers. Just one among us who shows weakness could destroy us all."
Justin nodded, pretending to understand this bullshit.
"It's not something I enjoy, and sometimes my tests probably look odd to those who don't fully understand. But no one can be exempt. No one, not even sweet, dear Alice." He folded his hands together as if trying to decide whether or not to proceed. "There are things you don't know about Alice. Things no one else knows."
Justin had to admit he didn't know much about Alice's past. She never talked about it or mentioned her family, even though she was always trying to get him to talk about his. It had taken days of probing to finally get her to tell him she was twenty years old, three years older than he was. Now that he thought about it, he didn't even know where she had grown up.
"Alice was a very troubled girl when she came here. Her parents had thrown her out of the house. She had nowhere else to go. I took a special interest in her, because I knew there was such good inside her, wanting to come out. But there were things she has done in her past, things that...well, all I will tell you, Justin, is that she has been used to receiving anything she wanted in exchange for sexual favors."
Justin felt a knot twisting in his stomach. Father's eyes were searching his, making sure Justin understood what he was saying.
"I know it's hard to believe." Father seemed satisfied with what he saw and sat back, shaking his head as if he, too, still couldn't believe it. "Looking at her now and seeing what progress she's made, yes, it is so hard to believe what a slut she was."
Justin caught himself from grimacing at the word. He blinked and swallowed hard. His mouth had gone dry and suddenly the room had grown much too hot. He remembered that tight pink sweater Alice had worn Saturday and how inappropriate he thought it was. Then he remembered her shaking her head no the entire time Father had his hand in her crotch. But there had also been such a pained look on her face, almost a sort of fear in her eyes. Had he imagined all that? Or had she simply been afraid of failing Father's test? Jesus!
"So now you understand the manner of testing I must use with Alice. It's so important to make certain that she has grown beyond that lifestyle, that she isn't continuing to lead other members into temptation. That she recognizes she has so much more to offer. That's also why I put her in charge of
recruiting, so that she can experience successes from using her other talents and not just her body."
Justin didn't know what to say. Father was watching him, waiting, but what the hell kind of response did he expect?
"You must never speak of this, Justin. It must never leave this room. Do you understand?"
"Sure. No, I won't tell anyone."
"Not even Alice. It would devastate her to realize that anyone knows. Can I trust you, Justin?"
"Yeah, sure. I mean...yes, you can trust me."
"Good." He smiled, and Justin couldn't remember Father ever smiling at him. It actually felt pretty good. "I knew you could be trusted. You're a good man, just like your brother, Eric." He sat forward, suddenly serious. "I knew you were special, Justin, when you survived my test."
Justin stared at him, looking for signs that the man knew he hadn't really survived but had spent the time with some campers. But Father was serious, his eyes warm and friendly.
"You must never repeat this, Justin, not even to your brother, but I knew from the day you stepped onto the compound that God had sent you."
"Sent me?"
"Yes. You're not like the rest. You see things, know things. You're not easily fooled."
Maybe the man honestly could read minds. Justin swallowed and nodded.
"You were sent by God to play an integral part in this mission, Justin. God sent you to me as a favor. You are a blessing."
Justin wasn't sure what to say. He couldn't help feeling... Hell, he couldn't help feeling special. He had never heard Father say such things to anyone else.
"That's why I want you to join the ranks of my warriors. I have the feeling you will be a very special warrior." He leaned even closer and lowered his voice. "I need your help, Justin. There are those who would like to destroy me, even here within our ranks. Are you willing to help me?"
Justin didn't know much about Father's warriors, except that they did get special treatment, rewards. Eric was a warrior and took great pride in the title. Justin tried to remember if anyone had ever told him they needed him before. It felt good. It felt damn good.
Father was waiting for an answer.
"Yeah," Justin said, and found the answer came quite easily. "Yeah, I guess I could help."
"Good. Excellent." He smiled and slapped Justin on the knee, then sat back in the recliner. "Brandon and I are taking a group to Boston for initiation. I'd like you to go, too.
"Sure, okay." He had no idea what he was getting himself into, but maybe it was a good idea to be away from Alice for a while. Just to think and sort through everything Father had told him. Besides, he really was kind of excited about this. Eric would be so proud when he heard the news. "About Eric," he said, "any idea when he'll be back?"
"Could be any day now," Father said. But his eyes suddenly drifted off to look out the window, as if his mind had wandered somewhere else.
CHAPTER 37
John F. Kennedy Federal Building Boston, Massachusetts
When the guard told Eric Pratt he had a visitor, Eric knew Father had sent someone to kill him. He sat down next to the thick glass partition and stared at the door on the other side, waiting to see who his executioner would be. His best friend, Brandon, walked through the door, stopped to be patted down by a guard then waved a hello. He sat in the yellow plastic chair and scooted as close as allowed to the barrier. Brandon was clean shaven, his wild, red hair wet with some sort of gel, combed and plastered to his head. He smiled at Eric as he picked up the telephone receiver.
"Hi, buddy," Brandon said, his voice muffled, though he sat right across from him. "They treatin' you okay in here?" His eyes flicked everywhere except to meet Eric's, and right then, Eric knew. It was Brandon. Brandon had come to deliver his death warrant.
After those first days of questioning when Eric refused to I answer any questions, they had thrown him into solitary confinement. What they hadn't realized was that they were giving him exactly what he wanted-to be left alone. After months of being surrounded by people, of not being able to go anywhere without a tagalong, the solitary confinement j was a reward, not a punishment. But he wouldn't dare tell I Brandon. That would only give his friend more reason to want him dead.
"I'm fine," Eric said, not caring that his tone probably didn't back up his words.
"Heard the food in here is worse than the crap we eat everyday." Brandon laughed, but it was a manufactured one.
Had he forgotten that Eric would be able to recognize it as such? Did he really believe he could dupe him into exchanging confidences? Oh, Father was good. Of course, he would send Eric's best friend to do the job. What sweet poetic justice, like sending Judas to betray Jesus, or rather, Cain to slaughter Abel.
"The food's okay."
Brandon glanced around, then leaned close to the glass. Eric stayed put, sitting straight-backed in the hard plastic chair. This was it. But how.. .how would he choose to destroy him?
"What the hell happened out there, Eric? Why didn't you take the pill?" He kept his voice hushed, but there was no mistaking the anger. Eric had expected nothing less than anger. And no matter how honest he tried to be with him, Brandon would never understand, because he would not have hesitated. Brandon would have swallowed ten cyanide capsules for Father. And now he wouldn't hesitate for a second to kill his best friend, whose only sin had been that he wanted to live.
"I did take it," Eric offered as a weak defense.
It was the truth, or at least part of the truth. Besides, hadn't Father taught them that it was okay to lie, cheat and steal as
long as the end justified the means? Well, the end was now Eric's own survival. Then he realized something for the first time. How stupid of him to not realize it sooner. Neither Brandon nor Father had any idea what had happened after the shoot-out. They had no idea what the agents had asked him or what he had told them. How could they ? All they knew was that he was still alive and in the midst of the enemy.
But maybe they didn't care about what had happened. They certainly didn't care about him or it wouldn't have taken this long for Father to send someone. No, the only thing they cared about was what he might confess, though there was nothing he could say. What could he tell them? That Father had tricked them? That he cared more about guns and his own protection than he did about his own followers? And why would the FBI care to hear about that?