Page 119 of At Her Will

I’m not the one that’s damned.

To do whatever unspeakable thing they planned to do, they had to disengage like this. The gag prevented her from saying anything to prove she was a fellow living soul.

She heard falling water…a waterfall? Or a big fountain. An earthy water smell penetrated the hood.

“It’s time for you to stay away from Rev.”

Witford. His voice was little different from how it had sounded in her office. Sure, arrogant, patronizing. But there was strain, too. He didn’t necessarily want to be doing this, but Vera didn’t take any comfort from that. She recognized the tone of someone who feltshewas to blame formakinghim have to terrorize her.

She’d managed to spit out the gag again. She spoke as forcefully as she could through the hood. “You think me being dead and out of the picture will keep Rev loyal to you?”

“Killing you isn’t our intent. We’re here to make the point you refused to hear in your office.” Witford paused. “When we drop you off, there won’t be any way for you to prove we did you any harm, I can promise you that. It will be your word against ours. I’m well known in the community, a pastor. You’re a witch, a pagan sexual deviant, pursuing one of our beloved but confused church members, a simple man with a learning disability.”

Now she understood the purpose of the hood. She couldn’t claim she’d seen their faces.

“You think Rev won’t believe me?”

“You won’t tell Rev about this. We can make things much worse for you, a woman living alone. As we’re about to show you. Have you heard of the drowning test for witches? Throw a witch in the water. If she sinks, she’s not a witch. If she floats, she is one.”

Which proved how illogical fear could be, especially when provoked by those with a self-serving reason to incite it.

Reaching for that cold analysis helped her cling to self-control. And the hope that he was trying to scare her with words. Not actually carry out what he’d just described.

The day-to-day survival of many Laurel Grove residents had often depended on them behaving exactly as their abusers expected. Until an opportunity like what Atalaya had experienced last night opened a door toward freedom.

“I am not the enemy here,” she said.

“You are the enemy. You are the Adversary, sent to draw Rev away from the Lord’s path.”

Tisha’s voice, the confirmation of her presence, didn’t shock Vera. Lawrence and Cyn had predicted that as well. Hell, it waspossible this whole thing was being driven by Tisha’s fear for Rev, and the pressure she’d put on Witford to fix it.

Witford made a noise of protest, as if he’d counseled her to stay silent, but Vera heard the rustle of her clothing. As Tisha came closer, she smelled the faint scent of her perfume. The woman’s voice was tortured but defiant. “We have to protect him.”

“He’s protected by the Lord,” Vera said. “You think you do a better job than Him?”

Before anyone could stop her, apparently, Tisha yanked off the hood and slapped Vera. Her rings cut Vera’s mouth.

As Vera focused blearily on Tisha’s hard, glittering eyes and tight mouth, the woman spat at her. “You dance and fornicate with Satan. He shows you how to twist words and plant doubt in God-fearing hearts.”

“I already told you, there is no devil in my faith,” Vera snapped back. “Only human evil, which is more than capable of insanity like this.”

“Hold her,” Tisha instructed Simon and Tyson. When they seized her arms, Tisha tore open Vera’s blouse, ripped off her pentacle and tossed it away. Then she started to prod Vera with sharp fingers.

Vera struggled, but Simon seized her hair, pulling her head back. Witford’s gaze flickered in mild alarm, but when he saw Vera’s eyes on him, the look disappeared, his face dispassionate. Tyson held her in a tight grip, but he didn’t look comfortable with what Tisha was doing. He tried to look anywhere else but at Vera’s breasts, exposed when Tisha yanked down the bra cups. Simon stared at them as if he’d like to cut them off.

It’s not you they’re doing it to. It’s a mannequin, and you’re watching from somewhere above them.

Witford was the con man, a preacher who liked money and what it could buy. Tisha was the zealot, driven by ideologyand the certainty she was right, that she had God on her side. Simon was a thug, on board with anything that allowed him to do violence. Tyson was more in Witford’s camp, but short of murdering her outright, Vera expected they would all stick with the basic plan, to scare the shit out of her so she’d leave Rev be, for the greater good. To serve God’s will.

Ros, check your voice mail. Check it.Now she was wishing she’d dialed 911, though her logic had been sound. She had no idea where she was, or if the signal would have been able to target her whereabouts to find her…in time. It was the wrong thought, because it dropped the bottom out of her stomach and set loose a starburst of fear.

“There.” With a sharp fingernail, Tisha stabbed a spot under Vera’s arm, beside the curve of her breast. “A witch’s mark. Told you it was there.”

“It’s a birthmark, you horrid, sick woman.”

Tisha slapped her again, then leaned in. Her breath on Vera’s face was minty. Get dressed, brush your teeth and hair, go torment the woman you’d kidnapped. Just like the laundered pillowcase, it made the moment even more bizarre. Tisha’s makeup was impeccable, her clothes as stylish as ever.

“Witford doesn’t understand. He wants to scare you. I know better. I know you won’t be scared for long. Unless you believe we’ll do everything we promise. I swore to my sister I’d keep Rev safe for the Lord. He’s a gentle soul who doesn’t understand the likes of you.”

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