Myra flicked the cigarette away. She unfolded the leg tucked beneath her and scooted to the edge of the chair. “You don’t need to be afraid, Cindy.” Her voice was low and earnest. And a strange thing happened-Cindy believed her. “I had a hunch about you. I thought I could provoke some interesting things.” She smiled and shot a glance at the open door behind Cindy. “Turns out I was right. I want you to join me, Cindy. I want you to help me kill them all. Will you do that?”
Cindy felt some of the paralysis slip away. Her legs remained frozen, but her upper body was under her own control again. The shears slipped from her hands and landed with a clatter on the porch.
“Yes.” She sniffled. “I think I want that more than anything.”
Myra smiled again. “Good. A change is coming, Cindy. A storm. Soon Rockville will be a ghost town. You’re going to kill a lot of people for me.”
Hot tears spilled down Cindy’s cheeks. “Thank you. Oh, thank you…”
“But now I need you to do something else for me first.” Myra’s eyes gleamed, and there was a new intensity in her voice. “A symbol of your subservience and devotion to me.”
Cindy’s legs prickled with a pins-and-needles sensation. Her body was fully under her control again. “What do you want me to do?”
A corner of Myra’s mouth twitched. “I want you to come to me on your hands and knees. And then I want you to kiss my feet.”
Only moments earlier the prospect of such a thing would have made Cindy sick. But now there was only pleasure and the desire to prove herself worthy to Myra. Before she could even consciously decide to obey, she felt her bare knees touch the cold concrete surface of the porch. Then she leaned forward and placed the palms of her hands on the concrete.
“Come to me,” Myra said.
“Yes, Lamia.”
Cindy almost frowned.
Why had she addressed Myra as Lamia?
You know why, a voice somewhere deep inside whispered. Deep down, you’ve always known.
But that was something to think about later. Maybe.
Cindy pushed the thought away and did as she was ordered.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Jordan burped.
She put a hand over her stomach and groaned. “I don’t think I can eat any more Todd.”
Bridget put down the length of fried intestine she’d been nibbling on. “Yeah, I’ve kinda had my fill of him, too.”
Angela belched.
All three of the women seated around Todd’s kitchen table laughed. Jordan glanced down at the beach ball-shaped monster that had nuzzled against her ankles throughout the meal. It looked up at her with its leering pumpkinlike eyes. She dropped a Todd morsel and the creature snatched it out of the air with its tongue.
Bridget grinned. “I think you’ve made a friend.”
“I think you’re right,” Jordan said.
Bridget reached across the table to stroke the back of Jordan’s hand. “It’s nice to see you getting into the spirit of things. The idea of cannibalism makes most people kind of, well…uptight.”
Angela giggled.
“Now that you’ve explained about Lamia, I feel a lot better about things,” Jordan said. “I can see why you thought I wouldn’t fit in with you guys, but you were wrong.”
“Hmm. Do you really think so?” Bridget bent one of Jordan’s fingers backward, just enough to hurt. “I still don’t think you’re fit for anything other than slave duty.” She smiled. “Tell me, why do you think I’m wrong?”
Bridget pushed Jordan’s finger backward some more. Jordan gritted her teeth, but she didn’t cry out. Nor did she attempt to yank her hand away. She’d already learned the price of resisting Bridget’s various tortures. Her hair was still a bit damp from the multiple toilet-bowl dunkings, and her back was raw from the belt-lashing she’d endured prior to that. Oh, they had been very cruel. But Jordan wouldn’t have expected anything less from such sadists. Yet, she had survived this much. It couldn’t get much worse. Or so she hoped.
Her smile wavered a bit, but she managed to reinforce it. “The way I see it, Lamia is all about female empowerment. She’s the ultimate feminist. Knowing what you know about me, you should see how perfectly her objectives mesh with my ideals.”
Angela snickered. “You don’t understand anything at all.”
Jordan tried to sound hurt. “Oh?”
Bridget nodded. “She’s right, Jordan. Yes, women assume the leadership roles within Lamia’s ring of power. Lamia sees that as the natural order of things. But the really important thing for all of us is the glorification of Lamia. She’s a deity, you know. A goddess. A divine being. All-powerful. And in the end, even the women of Rockville must fall at her feet and praise her.”
Jordan frowned. “Look, I believe you. Given what I’ve seen, that’s a no-brainer.”
Angela brayed more of that idiot laughter Jordan so hated. “Like Todd. He’s a real no-brainer now. We ate ’em up, yum yum.” She made a lip-smacking sound. “Mmm, brains…”
Jordan rolled her eyes, but otherwise ignored the interruption. “Okay, Lamia’s a goddess. Granted. We’ve established that. What I don’t understand, though, is the need for this…what did you call it?”
Bridget said, “The Harvest of Souls.”
“Yeah, that.”
Something subtle but significant changed in Bridget’s expression. And when she spoke next her tone was more serious than before. “It’s simple. Lamia derives energy, power, from souls. Yes, by the way, the soul is a real thing. Every human, every dog, every cat, every insect, every microorganism possesses one. Obviously, the soul-energy in, say, your average locust is negligible. But Lamia doesn’t bother absorbing the souls of the lower creatures. It would be a waste of her time. She has other uses for animals. Human beings, however, are loaded with soul-energy. Lamia can subsist on a handful of souls for years at a time. However, every hundred years or so a harvest must occur. What it does for her is hard to explain in human terms. You could compare it to recharging a car’s battery, I guess. But for Lamia one recharge will take her through another century.”
During this speech, Bridget had relinquished her grip on Jordan’s finger. Jordan folded her hands in her lap. “I guess I can buy that.” She glanced again at the beach ball creature. “I guess at this point I can buy anything.” She met Bridget’s gaze again. “But I don’t understand why a truly divine being would need a recharging.”
Angela made a disgusted sound and sneered. “Why are we bothering explaining this shit to this bitch? We should just kill her skinny ass.” The sneer became a smile. “I’m still hungry. I bet her eyeballs would be tasty fried up in a skillet.”
Bridget smiled “There’s more interesting things to do with Jordan than kill her.” She picked at the remaining morsels on her plate for another moment before setting her fork down again. She looked at Jordan. “I don’t think any of us ever truly understand divine beings, not even chosen ones like me.”
“Chosen ones?”
“Those personally selected by Lamia to carry out the Harvest.”
Jordan felt a chill go through her. “You mean…”
Bridget nodded. There was a very intent look in her eyes. A deeply disturbing eagerness. “Yes. Chosen ones do the actual killing. There’s a very complicated energy-transference process. Well, you’ll see how it works at the Harvest.”
“And that happens when?”
“Very soon. At Rockville High School.”
“Why there?”
Bridget rolled her eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? It’s true that Lamia derives substantial energy from any human soul she takes, but the souls of the very young contain the most raw energy. A teenager’s soul is the equivalent of spiritual crack or Ecstasy.” She shrugged. “I don’t know which analogy is more accurate, but that’s my basic understanding of it.”