She listened. He’d give her that. “Do as thou wilt,” she said as she walked along. “The motto of the church of Satan.”
“Yes. That’s it, Tori. We live our lives as we wish. We are free. Whereas your God kills thousands of people just for not obeying Him. That’s the definition of a tyrant. There are dozens of stories in your Bible where He did just that. You cannot deny it.”
They continued on again in silence, giving Thomas hope that she was truly thinking about what he’d said. Another tool used to reverse brainwashing was to give them another choice, a better choice.
The sun sank farther behind the houses, drawing streams of shadows along with it over sea and sand. Somewhere a gull cried, people laughed, and the chink of glassware suggested a party. A gust of salty wind flapped his shirt and brought the scent of the sea, rotten fish, and something else unsavory to his nose. Another reason he didn’t like to walk among the waves. So much of the water was polluted now.
Finally, she stopped and faced him. The last rays of an orange sun sparkled over her skin and flashed across her green eyes, so full of life and…spunk. Yes, she still had her spunk.
“Tell you what.” She jabbed a finger on his chest. “Let’s make a wager. Let’s give ourselves, say, six months of spending time together. During which time I will try to convince you that my God is the true God, and you try and convince me that your god is the true god.”
He couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Ah, you can still laugh. I wondered about that.”
Smiling, he eased a lock of hair from her face.Six months! He had never dreamed she’d want to stay here that long. He’d only given himself a week to break her, but now with this extra time, he was sure he could. “You’re on.”
Pleased, she looped her arm through his as they strolled to the house.
Back in his office, Thomas caught himself smiling at the memory. No, Tori was nothing like the older lady he’d just condemned to death. She would see reason, he was sure of it.
A knock on his door reignited his annoyance. “What?!” he snapped, thinking it was Cruz again.
Instead, Rodney’s head popped through the opening. “I wouldn’t bother you, sir, but you gotta see this.”
“See what?” All Thomas wanted was to have another drink and head home for the day. Home to Tori.
“You aren’t going to believe this, sir.” Moisture filled Rodney’s eyes as he blinked, fluttering his false eyelashes.
And for a split second, Thomas thought he’d been caught.
“Out with it.”
“It’s Premier Aali. He’s back.”
???
Arithem stood, mighty arms crossed, watching the scene unfold on the huge flatscreen mounted on the wall. Scanon appeared beside him, eyes on his ward—one of the technicians—just as the son of Adam, called Rodney, dashed into the control room. Thomas followed close behind. Eyes wide and faces ashen, they, along with all the others, stared at the scene unfolding on the screen. No one said a word. Phones rang, but no one moved to answer them.
’Twas what the sons of Adam called shock, he supposed.
Arithem called what was happening blasphemy. Blasphemy against the Most High!
He returned his gaze back to the events unfolding in D.C., one of the many cities controlled by their enemy.
The reporter who’d been unable to speak for several minutes, finally settled herself and faced the camera. “I can’t believe it!” Her breath came fast and hard, her eyes glistening with tears. “Premier Aali has risen from the dead!” She glanced over her shoulder to the Beast, himself, sitting up in the marble coffin in the center of the Washington National Cathedral where they’d held the funeral services the day before. The glass top of the coffin lay shattered in pieces on the floor.
Arithem’s fingers ached to draw his sword, to fly to D.C. and put an end to this monster once and for all.
“So, it has finally happened,” Scanon said with a stern frown.
“Aye.” Arithem gripped the hilt of his sword, if only to ease his desire to do something…anythingto stop what he knew must come. “Our enemy has entered him fully now.”
“And all hell will soon be unleashed,” Scanon added.
A small group of men formed around the Beast, helping him to his feet, while a crowd of onlookers circled the coffin, shouting, crying, some even swooning. The Beast raised his hands and smiled. “All is well. I am well! I have risen!”
The men surrounding him fell to their knees and the crowd followed suit.
