Suddenly Edgar is there, wearing a black suit and a red tie. He grips Dad’s hand firmly and gives him a sympathetic smile. “You came. I’m glad.” He turns to me, blue eyes gleaming. “Cathy. I thought we could have a private chat, you and I, before the prayer time begins.”
“Um…” I scramble for a reason not to, but he’s already taking my hand and leading me through the bodies, away from the eyes and the mouths, hustling me into one side of a confessional booth while he takes the other. The booths are soundproof, mostly, and for a moment I’m relieved by the abrupt silencing of the low conversations outside and the absence of all those malevolent eyes.
Slowly I settle onto the narrow bench seat. I’ll sit here and deal with Edgar if it means I can hide from the congregation a little longer.
“It’s time to come clean, Cathy,” says Edgar from the other side of the wooden screen that divides the booth. “You’ve been lying for so long. Trust me, it will feel amazing to let the deception go.”
“I thought you said we were going to chat.”
“We can do that, too. In fact, there was something I wanted to tell you, and I hope you’ll hear it in the spirit in which it’s intended.”
It’s never good when someone prefaces a speech with those words.
“Leadership is my spiritual gift,” says Edgar. “I’ve led dozens of bible studies and mission teams. I’ve led prayer groups and class presentations and preaching teams. But last night, on the beach, I lost control. And I’ve been trying to figure out why.”
“Beer,” I suggest.
“It was more than that. You see, I can lead groups that include both believers and the lost—as long as the lost are open-minded. As long as they have an interest in the things of God. But there are people who aren’t justlost, Cathy. They are the damned, the reprobates, like Cliff, the guy Isabella brought along. Elements like that should never be allowed in a gathering of the faithful. They’re disruptive, unhinged, and problematic.”
“So just because Cliff was there, you couldn’t control the eventlike you planned, and it veered in a different direction. Is that what you’re saying?”
“It’s a bit more nuanced than that—”
“Honestly, I think it’s more primal than that. You were the alpha of the pack until Hea—untilCliffshowed up, and then he naturally became the alpha. It’s basic animal behavior.”
Edgar blows out a frustrated breath. “That’s a very pagan way of looking at it, Cathy.”
“Is it, though?”
“The point is, I’ve figured out how to rectify that failure in leadership. Eliminate the dissenters, the rebels, the problematic elements, and you’re left with a flock that’s ready to follow.”
That sounds way too much like dictator-speak, but I don’t mention it. Best not to antagonize him until I figure out exactly what he wants.
“Let’s talk about you,” he continues. “About that scream. That’s when I figured it out, you know. Dad and I had some pieces of the puzzle, but that was the clue we needed to determine what kind of supernatural you were. A banshee. Your father confirmed it this morning. He told me how it works when he gave me his confession.”
“Good. Saves me time.” My fingers curl around the edge of the bench seat, white-knuckled, my nails scraping the wood.
“Cathy, I have to ask—do you feel any remorse at all for hiding your nature from us? For being the proverbial wolf in sheep’s clothing?”
“Wolf?” I exclaim. “I’m not a predator, Edgar. This isn’t something I can prevent or control. The most I can do is choose where I wander, and even that takes a huge effort. But I’m not hurting anyone. I never have.”
“Your very existence is a threat to this church and our mission.”Edgar’s tone is gentle, soothing. “And we have to figure out how to deal with it, especially after the horrible deaths that occurred last night.”
“I’m not linked to those deaths in any way.” A frustrated panic is rising in me, swirling higher and higher inside my chest, quickening my heartbeat. “Who put you in charge? Seriously, Edgar, you’re not my pastor. I’m not even sure your dad is my pastor. You don’t call the shots, not here at church and not in my life, okay? You and I have known each other since we were kids. I like you well enough—I went on a date with you, for goodness’ sake—but I’ll be damned if I’m going to confess anything to you.”
I rise from the bench and open the door to my side of the booth, intending to charge right out of the church, no matter what Dad said.
But I stop at the sight of a cluster of women and children moving up the aisle. They’re all dressed in black and several of them are sobbing openly.
I hadn’t forgotten about the dead men, but I was too worried about myself to really grasp what their loss has done to this church. Five deacons, gone. Whole families shattered in just a few hours. And these people don’t even have bodies to bury.
The organ drones mournfully as the families file along the first two rows of pews. The rest of the worshippers fill in the seats behind them. My father stands in the third row, his stern gaze fixed on me. He points to the spot beside him, right at the end of the pew. My seat.
“They’re looking for someone to blame.” Edgar’s voice is low and soft by my ear. “Run out of here now, and they won’t believe you had nothing to do with this. Stay, and perhaps I can persuade them you’re harmless.”
He takes my upper arm. A light hold, not restrictive, so I don’tpull away as he guides me up the aisle to the seat Dad has saved for me.
Pastor Linton isn’t here, and for some reason that scares me. I never liked him, exactly, but he was familiar, routine, predictable. Edgar is anything but predictable. Last night on the beach did something to him, flipped a switch. Or maybe it tore away his mask, too, and the person he’s always been is stepping forward. Maybe the god of death isn’t the only dangerous thing being resurrected.
