Showdown Page 15

  “Me? It should be Samuel!”

  “Samuel wasn’t an option. It will be you.”

  Raul cleared his throat. “I must express my objection. I think we’re going too fast. Having this debate tomorrow is premature. She needs time to prepare.”

  “No, no, that’s not our call,” Andrew responded. “I’ve looked up the rules. The debate must be held within twenty-four hours.” It was odd that even the teachers were foggy on the rules of debate, Samuel thought. Then again, they’d never had to know.

  “What on earth for?” Raul demanded. “If the future of the monastery is at hand, we should all tread carefully.”

  David held up a hand. “We’ve been treading carefully for twelve years. As it is now, Billy hardly stands a chance. The more time we give him, the stronger his argument will become. Time favors him, not us. The debate will be held tomorrow morning.”

  “And Billy will debate me?” Christine asked, still unconvinced.

  “You know what he’s going to argue,” Samuel said. “I say throw it back in his face. Make him grovel and cry for mercy.”

  That earned him a few smiles.

  “Oh, you can bet I will. Trying to argue that love has no trajectory,much less one set for our Maker, is like trying to argue that we are nothing more than a sea of slugs, inching aimlessly about in the dark. You’re sure this is the basis of his argument?”

  “I doubt he’ll cast it in those terms,”David said. “But in the end all arguments end there. You’ll do fine, Christine.”

  She nodded. “And what happens to Billy when he’s defeated?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing? Could he cast another challenge?”

  “Not for three days.”

  “I think it’s too soon,” Raul said. “They’re still children, for heaven’s sake. They could drag us all down.”

  “Then, in the eyes of some, our project will have failed,” David said.

  “And not in the eyes of others?” Andrew asked.

  David didn’t respond.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  PARADISE

  Friday morning

  PAULA WANDERED around her house without really knowing what she was doing. Oh, she did the dishes and made the bed, but she knew there was something else she should be doing. Problem was figuring it out.

  It came to her out of nowhere. A blue streak of desire so deep that she gasped right there in her hallway.

  Wanna trip, baby?

  She left the house and walked up the street toward the church. The streets were still deserted, and the thumping sound was still coming from behind the house. Get a clue, Steve. Please.

  Wanna trip?

  Her pulse quickened and she quickened her pace. Steve could rot in hell for all she cared.

  She found the front doors to the church locked. They were never locked. She walked to the side and entered through the office, hoping that Stanley and that fat secretary of his had left for lunch early or something.

  Now come on, Paula, you have no right calling people fat. That could be you in twenty years.

  But she is fat. Paula walked through the kitchen to the back stairs. Fat as a cow.

  “Hello, Paula.”

  Paula gasped, startled. Nancy stood in the back-office doorway holding a large brown grocery bag. She wore a yellow cotton dress that made Paula think of a gunny sack with two holes cut out for those pudgy arms and another for her thick neck. A white substance that must be butter or frosting had dried on Nancy’s left cheek.

  “Don’t scare me like that,” Paula said. “Where is everybody?”

  Nancy stared at her and held up the bag as though apologetic. “I just had to run to the store.” She walked into the office without another word.

  Paula breathed a quick sigh of relief and turned down the stairwell. See, now there was another weird thing. Nancy was fat enough as it is. No need to clean out Claude’s store.

  Wanna trip, huh? Like I do?

  Paula stopped halfway down the stairs, her heart in her throat. What was she doing? Where was she going, anyway?

  Down to the basement. To divide bone and marrow. Down to her office to trip.

  Or at least to check on her Sunday-school room, just to make sure that everything was in order for Sunday service. Never could take the responsibility of teaching the children too seriously, right? Never.

  When she landed on the gray carpet and rounded the corner to the all-purpose room, tingles were sweeping through her belly. Goose bumps fanned out at the base of her skull. You shouldn’t be here, Paula.

  Trip, trip, trip. Say it like that, baby. Say it like you mean it.

  The room yawned vacant and still. She stepped across it lightly, barely breathing. The door to her office was cracked, but she often left it open. It was her office all right, given to her as the Sunday-school coordinator. The sign on the door said it in brass.

  Paula reached the office, ran her sleeve over the brass plate, glanced back to the empty stairwell once, and pushed the door open.

  The room was shrouded in darkness. Empty? Of course it was empty. What did she expect? She reached in and flipped the light switch. Four fluorescents stuttered to life.

  Her desk sat as she had left it, neat and tidy with her little gray chair shoved under. The room was indeed empty, and an awful sense of disappointment ran through her chest. Yeah, I’ll show you how to trip, you freak show. Her anger surprised her. Trip this! She flicked the air with her tongue.

  Now that was forward. She did it again. Goodness, she was a regular sex bomb.

  Paula stepped into her office and sighed. What had she come here for again?

  A large black body moved to her left and she yelped.

  Then she saw the whole of him, and her peripheral vision clouded. He stood there, tall, dressed in the same black trench coat he seemed never to take off, smiling under those sapphire eyes.

  “Marsuvees!”

  The initial shock fell away, and a cold wave of relief washed down her back. She smiled sheepishly.

  He raised his shoulders in a shrug and chuckled. A low, empty chuckle that echoed through the room and bounced around in her skull. Paula felt a stab of fear.

  “Paula . . . ha.” He ended her name with air, and then clacked his teeth shut, as if taking a small bite out of the air.

  Her name came to her like a soothing salve. An image of him standing up at the pulpit, commanding the attention of every last soul in town, ran through her mind.

  “Hi.” Her voice sounded like a squeak.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you. I just thought you might come here and . . .” He smiled warmly. “Well, I wanted to show you something.”

  See? He’s so gentle, really. Just like in my dreams.

  He looked at her without moving for a long time, until she thought she could feel the heat coming to her from those blue eyes.

  “You know the story about the woman caught in adultery?” he asked.

  Her heart skipped a beat. “Yes.”

  He took a step toward her.“You know, now there’s a story of grace, Paula. I mean real grace. Don’t you think?”

  Wanna trip, baby, huh? Wanna, wanna?

  “I guess.” She took a step backward.

  “Do you want to know what the truth of it was, Paula? I’ll tell you. The truth of it was that the woman was no worse than the rest of them. They were all the same. All covered by grace. That’s the truth of it, Paula. You have any bad thoughts toward anybody lately? Like Steve maybe? Because if you have, you are no better than that woman there in the story.”

  What was he saying? Of course she knew what he was saying. He was saying that if you think it, you might as well do it. The consequences are the same.

  “The consequences are the same, Paula,” Marsuvees said. “Either way, you don’t get stoned.”

  She was feeling that tingle in her belly again.

  Wanna trip with me? Wanna, baby?

  “Yes,” she said.

  She w
asn’t sure whom she had said yes to then. Maybe to herself. She had stayed faithful to Steve for fifteen years without so much as looking at another man. Not that there was much to look at around here, but she’d never even had the desire. Now a man sent from God was hitting on her, telling her there was plenty of grace to go around, and Steve was sitting in the backyard losing his mind. Maybe she was losing hers as well.

  He’d said that he was here to prepare them to withstand something bad. Something evil that would kill them if they didn’t see things his way. He’d come to bring them the sword of truth.

  Marsuvees walked toward her.

  A wave of heat broke over her crown and cascaded down her shoulders. She could feel tiny beads of sweat popping from the pores on her forehead. It occurred to her that she wasn’t wearing any makeup. If he gets too close, he’ll see the pimple on my jaw. Thank goodness she’d taken a shower.

  Wanna trip with me?

  “Yes,” she said again, and this time she knew she was answering that voice in her head. Yes, yes, yes!

  No, Paula. No, no, no. This isn’t grace and hope.

  It’s love. Love, love, love.

  Love?

  Do you want to trip? Do you want love?

  Yes.

  Marsuvees came within a foot of her and reached a hand to her face. She stood there trembling, wanting his touch unlike she had wanted anything in her memory.

  She looked into his eyes, deep, where they became sapphire pools of safety. His hand rose to her cheek and then ever so lightly he touched her, at the corner of her parted lips.

  She closed her eyes and let her mind fall.

  “Meet me here,” he whispered into her ear. She caught a faint whiff of his breath. It smelled sanitized. Like rubbing alcohol.

  “After the meeting,” he whispered. And then she felt his warm wet tongue on her neck. It ran up her cheek, past her ear, and right up into her hair. She shivered with pleasure and edged forward, wanting to feel his body more than she imagined possible.

  “Tomorrow night, precious. Then everything will make sense.”He pulled back.

  “Yes,” she said. His saliva began to dry cool on her cheek.

  Tomorrow night?

  She opened her eyes.

  He was gone.

  Gone! Her heart crashed to the ground, as if it had been held in a glass that someone dropped. She hurried to the door and scanned the outer room.

  Empty.

  Paula walked shakily to her desk and sat down heavily. What was she thinking? Bile rose to her throat and she felt she might throw up, right here on the desk.

  Paula set her head in her hands and began to sob. But they really weren’t sobs of horror or remorse anymore. They were sobs of self-pity.

  She wanted to trip. She really, really did.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  THE MONASTERY

  Friday morning

  “YOU’RE PUTTING words in my mouth,” Paul cried. “Did I say I want to go down?”

  “Sure you did,” Darcy replied. “Want is part of curiosity. We all know you want. Now it’s only a matter of your rights.”

  He looked confused, Billy thought. But he was caving already. It had been Darcy’s idea to pursue the other students so soon. “If I went for it, then Paul will go for it. And if Paul goes for it, there’s no telling how many we can get.”

  It had been her idea, but Billy made it his task. They would approach students strategically, beginning with Paul.Well, swallow this, Paul.

  Darcy pressed. “As you said, Paul—and you’re quite correct in saying—you possess full control over what is yours. Such as your will. And your rights. See, and you were prepared for a long drawn out argument. But it’s very simple, really. You do have the right to do whatever you wish.”

  “But it’s wrong.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says them.”

  “But it’s your right to decide what’s right. Right?”

  “My right?”

  “Yes,” Billy said. “And we know what you want. You want to go to the lower levels and have a peek. Like Darcy did. Because you look at Darcy here, and you think she looks quite well for one who’s done the forbidden. And now you want to know what it feels like.”

  Paul’s hesitation told Billy that he had his third convert. It took another twenty minutes of discussion, slowly whittling down Paul’s increasingly meager objections, to get to the final point.

  “So there you have it,” Darcy said, grinning.

  “So there I have it? Just like that?”

  “Just like that. Let’s go.”

  Paul balked. “Go? What do you mean go? Just go?”

  “Yes. You exercise your will and you just go. Anything less would be denial of what your heart and your mind are telling you.” Darcy stood. “Come on.”

  Paul stood shakily. “I don’t know.”

  “Of course you don’t. How can you know what you haven’t tried? Look at me, do I look worse off?”

  She scratched her neck, and Billy wondered if Paul noticed her light rash.

  “Just a peek?”

  “Just a peek.”

  “Okay, but just a peek.”

  Billy chuckled and slapped Paul on the back. “Just a peek. Don’t worry, this will all be moot tomorrow anyway.”

  “How’s that?”

  Billy glanced at Darcy and winked. “I’ve challenged the monastery rules. No one knows yet, but tomorrow I’ll defeat Christine in a debate and open the lower tunnels for all the students.”

  Paul was back to his bug eyes. “You’re serious? Tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Well, what if you don’t win?”

  “I will.” Billy stood to his feet and brushed off his pants. “You ready?”

  “Now?”

  “Why not? Just a peek, Paul. That’s all you owe yourself. One small peek.”

  THEY STOOD in the vestibule, facing the huge black doors, three wide-eyed children.

  “It’s so dark down here,” Paul said.

  Billy pushed the black doors open.

  “Don’t be a wuss, Paul. You’ll love it. The fear you’re feeling is part of the fun. You’ll see, I promise.”

  Billy and Darcy stepped past the door and waved Paul in. “Come on.”

  He walked toward them as if each step might set off a land mine. Funny how terrified he was. Billy’s longing for the study was already mushrooming. Hurry up, you spineless brat!

  Then Paul’s head was in, craning for a view.

  “Don’t just stand there gawking. Come in!”

  Paul stepped all the way in. But his heart remained outside, bouncing around the vestibule like a Super Ball. The thought made Billy chuckle.

  He pushed the door closed behind Paul. Clunk.

  They were in. Paul’s words to Darcy rang in Billy’s ears. You went in there? As if he thought she had tasted death itself.

  Open your mouth, Paul boy. How does it taste?

  Three thick pink worms writhed slowly under the torch’s light on their right. Glistening bands of mucus trailed behind them. Billy could feel Paul trembling beside him.

  “Wow . . .”

  Darcy giggled. “Yeah, wow. I told you you’d like it.”A faint rash had flowered on Darcy’s lily-white Dutch neck—the same rash he’d developed. The tunnels had this effect. It was probably some kind of atmospheric thing.

  “Wow.”

  The worms’ pungent odor filled Billy’s nostrils and made him impatient. He didn’t have time for this nonsense.

  “Come on.” He turned and walked into the far right tunnel, leading the way with the torch. And then he was running toward the study, with Darcy at his side and Paul stumbling behind them, saucer-eyed.

  They spent twenty minutes with Paul in the study, putting up with his foolishness. The dark passage sent him around a bend. He literally bounced off the walls of the small study, touching the books and examining the furniture—enough to make Billy wonder if they’d made a mistake in br
inging him. Billy wanted to spend their time here exploring or writing, not bouncing around like a lunatic. The distraction was annoying. Infuriating.

  “What’s this?” Paul asked. “You’re writing a story together?”

  Billy turned to the desk where Paul held his journal open, reading.

  He and Darcy had stayed below deep into the night, exploring and reading and writing. In the end, mostly writing, a continuation of the story he’d begun on his own. Darcy insisted on writing the women in it. “It takes a woman to know a woman’s true desires,” she said. He chuckled and she lost herself, bent over the book, intoxicated by her own creative power as much as anything else in the dungeon.

  “Put the book down. Mind your own business.”

  “Jiminy Cricket, Billy.” Paul dropped the book onto the desk where it landed with a slap. “I was thinking maybe I could write with you, but you’ve turned into a raging monster.”

  “We’re not saying you can’t do things with us,” Darcy said. “But you have to take a deep breath and calm down. All your questions are getting a bit annoying.”

  Paul seemed to shrug off her rebuke. He looked past the gate at the tunnel. “You want to go exploring.”

  Billy and Darcy exchanged a glance. “We’ve already explored.”

  “Well, maybe I’ll find another bedroom or something. Or maybe I can try one of the other halls.”

  Billy faced him, angered by the suggestion without knowing why. His privacy was being trampled, though it had been at his insistence that Paul had come.

  “We have only one torch,” Darcy said.

  “Then come with me.”

  Billy did want to explore, but the thought of spending any more time with the walking mouth called Paul made him nauseated.

  “No, and the torch stays here.”

  Paul wasn’t put off. “Then we’ll make another.”Without waiting for their approval, he stripped off his shirt.

  Billy watched as he tied it into a knot, thrust it onto the end of an old broom handle he’d found in the corner, and turned the old torch upside down over his contraption. Fuel leaked in flaming drips, igniting Paul’s shirt. He laughed with delight and jumped aside to avoid a thin line of flame dripping to the floor.

  “You won’t have long,” Billy said. “Maybe half an hour before that thing burns out and leaves you in the dark. Trust me, you don’t want to get caught in those tunnels without a light.”