"But, Sam, you'll intimidate Reverend Reeves and put him on guard. If the two of us are alone, he might be more at ease and willing to accept—"
"I hope I do intimidate Reeves. I hope I intimidate the hell out of him. I want him to know that the only way he's ever going to be able to hurt you is by going through me."
Jeannie felt it again, that wild, primeval, possessive need inside Sam, that powerful protective instinct that claimed his soul whenever any thoughts of her came to his mind. And the strange thing was, she realized, Sam had absolutely no control over the way he felt, and that made him hate his feelings and fight against them all the more.
Knowing Sam would never agree to leave her alone with Maynard Reeves, she complied with his demand. "All right, Sam. I understand. You'll stay in the room with us. But, please, let me do all the talking."
"We'll see," Sam said.
* * *
When Sam and Jeannie walked into the hallway leading to the front parlor, they saw Ollie, hands on her hips, standing at the open front door, shaking her head. Then they heard Reeves's singsong, pulpitarian voice as he addressed the crowd. The man stood on the front veranda, facing his entranced followers, who stood at rapt attention on the sidewalk. Maynard Reeves had cultivated a pure, clean-cut look with his neat, well-tailored black suit and white shirt, his short sandy hair, and the silver cross he wore around his neck.
"I give you my solemn vow that I will be on guard during my exchange with the devil's daughter," Reeves shouted, his voice deep and clear. "And I will report back to you, my faithful brethren, on whether or not I was able to win back her soul from the evil one."
"Report back to the press, you mean, you scalawag preacher," Ollie mumbled, loud enough for Sam and Jeannie to hear her.
"You don't need to witness this spectacle." Sam tugged on Jeannie's arm. "Wait for him in the parlor. I'll personally escort the good reverend to you."
"Now, Sam, this is supposed to be a friendly meeting."
"Yeah, sure. You can't get much friendlier than soul-saving, can you?"
"Don't be sacrilegious."
"I'm not the one making a mockery of everything holy." Jeannie nodded in agreement, admitting Sam was right. "I'll wait in the parlor."
Reeves continued his unholy message of hate. Sam laid his big hand on Reeves's shoulder; the man shuddered, then froze on the spot, halting his speech in midsentence.
"Ms. Alverson is waiting to see you," Sam said.
"I shall be with you momentarily, sir. I will not be summoned before I'm prepared. I need a moment of prayer before facing the powers of darkness."
Dropping his hand from Reeves's shoulder, Sam lowered his voice to a deadly whisper. "You're going to need more than a prayer if you keep Ms. Alverson waiting one more minute to continue this sideshow of yours."
Raising his arms in the air dramatically, Reeves closed his eyes. "Pray for me, brothers and sisters. Pray for me."
When Reeves turned around, Sam stepped aside to allow him entrance into the foyer. The moment the two men entered the house, Ollie closed and locked the front door behind them.
"She's waiting for us in the front parlor." Sam nodded the direction. "The doors to the left."
Reeves hesitated outside the double panel doors, but didn't turn to face Sam. "Waiting for us?" he asked. "She led me to believe this would be a private meeting between the two of us."
"It will be." Sam slid open the panel doors. "I'm simply here to guard an angel while she tries to make peace with the devil."
Reeves gasped. His boyishly handsome face turned crimson beneath its dusting of freckles as he turned toward Sam. "How dare you!"
Sam looked at Jeannie's adversary; the man trembled. "Please, go right on in, Reverend. She's waiting for you."
Reeves obeyed instantly, entering the front parlor with the same caution he might have used in entering a den of lions. Before approaching Jeannie, who sat in a tapestry-upholstered rosewood chair, Reeves watched Sam Dundee take a protective stance across the room. Sam crossed his arms over his chest. Reeves glanced at Jeannie.
"Won't you please sit down, Reverend Reeves?" Jeannie glided her arm through the air, gesturing for her guest to sit across from her on the red velvet settee.
Reeves sat uneasily, perching on the edge of the Victorian sofa. "Little good will come of this meeting if I feel threatened." He dared a quick glance in Sam's direction.
Jeannie laughed. "You can't possibly be referring to Mr. Dundee."
Reeves jumped to his feet, obviously unnerved by her reaction. "I most certainly am. I came here in good faith, expecting a private audience with you."
"I have no secrets from Mr. Dundee. You see, he is my protector. His job is to make sure no harm comes to me. He isn't a threat to anyone, unless—"
"Yes, yes, I quite understand." Reeves sat down again, slowly, focusing his attention on Jeannie's smiling face. "When you called and asked to see me, I hoped that you'd changed your mind about joining my ministry. It isn't too late. All I have to do is go outside—" leaning toward Jeannie, Reeves lowered his voice "—and tell the Righteous Light brethren and the media that I fought the devil for your soul and won."
The urge to giggle would have overcome Jeannie if she hadn't been aware of the threat behind the reverend's offer. "But you haven't fought the devil for my soul, because my soul is my own, and my powers are not derived from any evil source."
"If you do not use your powers in his name, doing his work, then Satan controls you. There is much good you could do. You and I together could form a strong force to combat this sinful world."
Jeannie noticed the wild, glazed stare in Reeves's eyes, an almost otherworldly glimmer. Ripples of suspicion jangled her nerve endings.
In so many ways, Maynard Reeves reminded her of her stepfather, a man who had exploited her, never caring that his fanatical needs had condemned her to a living hell. She hated remembering those endless days and nights of pain from which she'd had no escape. Only in God's own good time and in his way had she been set free. She would never willingly be used to further an unscrupulous minister's career.
"I spent my childhood as the main attraction of my stepfather's ministry."
"And you would be the crown jewel in mine!" Reeves rose from the settee, lifting his arms as if to beseech heaven. "There is nothing that we couldn't do—together!"
Jeannie knew there was only one way to discover the truth, to prove or disprove her suspicions. But how would Sam react? His interference could prove disastrous. She had to make him understand that he was not to interrupt her probe, not even if she appeared to be in danger.
She called out to Sam silently. He didn't try to block her entrance into his mind, because he hadn't been expecting it. She glanced across the room at him; he gave her a quizzical look. Why wouldn't he open his mind and allow her to connect with him? If only he would admit that a telepathic link existed between them, it would be so easy.
I'm going to connect with Reverend Reeves, Jeannie told Sam telepathically, hoping he would open his mind to her.
Sam clenched his teeth. A muscle in his jaw twitched. He uncrossed his arms, lowered them to his sides, and knotted his hands into tight fists. He wouldn't listen to her. He had to shut her out once again.
Jeannie lifted her cane, braced the tip on the floor and rose from her chair. "Reverend Reeves, you understand all about possessing special powers, don't you?"
Spreading his arms in a circular motion as he brought them downward, Reeves stepped back, his legs bumping into the edge of the settee. "I know that there are powers from the devil and powers from God, and that those from the devil must be destroyed and those from God must be cultivated and used in his service."
Seemingly spellbound, Reeves watched her walk slowly toward him. He didn't so much as flinch when she reached out and touched him.