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  Until now.

  Andrew believed David had always kept secrets. He walked with the air of a man plagued by more than the eyes could see. His understated reaction to the news that Billy had broken a cardinal rule made Andrew wonder if it really was news to the director at all. And now David claimed that good could come of this fall from grace. A power we only dream of.

  David averted his eyes. “We can’t rescue him, Andrew. We’ve poured our lives into him and we’ve taught him the way of faith and virtue, but he must choose.”

  “Then the end may be upon us.”

  David walked to a large bookcase lined with hundreds of clothbound volumes. Two masks rested on one of the shelves, one black and one white, signifying the basic struggle between good and evil faced by every man and woman and child who lived. The director’s eyes lingered on the black mask before returning to Andrew. His eyes revealed deep emotion, whether fear or concern or resolve, Andrew couldn’t tell.

  “It’s the power of the children’s choice that we’re after, isn’t it?”David said. “The power that resides deep in those spirits is staggering. But only when it’s tested will we see that power.”

  “They’ve been tested, a thousand times.”

  “Tested? Not really. Not the way they will be now.”

  Andrew paced, hands on hips. David made sense, but not enough to satisfy him. The tunnels had always been a mystery to the teachers, but from what Andrew knew, they were filled with evil. Raw evil. David repeatedly stated that the tunnels would dramatically alter the life of anyone who entered. The dungeons were off-limits to all.

  Andrew faced David. “What precisely will Billy face down there? I certainly have the right to know that much.”

  David studied him, and for a moment Andrew thought he would break. “You’ll know soon enough. Know this, the tunnels will open the mind. The heart.” He tapped his chest. “The will. This is where the battle resides, and this is where true power waits.”

  His vague answers were maddening.

  “It’s rather strange that this occurs a week after the departure of Marsuvees Black.”

  No response.

  The monk from the deserts of Nevada claimed to have lived there in isolation for three years. David preferred clergy that had lived in solitude, he said. They had the character required for this confining assignment.

  But Marsuvees Black didn’t strike Andrew as a monk who’d spent three years alone. He seemed more like a one-man Vegas show who had finished his penance in the desert and was reclaiming the glory of his previous life.

  After nine months, he began to act strangely and was given to outbursts and wild discourses on relativism and man’s free will. When David reined him in,Marsuvees withdrew almost completely. Then, without warning, he left the monastery.

  “Not that I’m accusing him, mind you. I would expect to see him twisting the ear of some poor parish somewhere, not plotting to affect Billy’s good sense. But maybe his departure has undermined Billy’s confidence in us. Marsuvees was rather outspoken about free will and grace. For all we know, he told Billy to go down there.”

  The monk’s unscheduled departure caused a stir among the staff. Never had a teacher left without fulfilling his four-year commitment. Where he’d gone was of considerable concern, but the project had little contact with the outside world, and information was scarce.

  The closest town was a small pit stop called Paradise, which in theory could provide a link to society beyond the electronic communications that the director reserved for himself. But even when the teachers left the monastery for brief reprieves, contact with this town was strictly prohibited. It was simply too close to risk any interaction.

  David didn’t seem interested in pursing this tangent on Marsuvees Black.

  “What if the rebellion spreads?”Andrew asked. “Others have been questioning as well. What if Billy challenges the rules in an open debate?”

  No response. The debate was by design the proverbial apple that David had set before them all. If any student was able to challenge the principles that governed the monastery and win the majority support of the other students, all existing rules would be subject to that student’s interpretation until another clear majority overturned him or her.

  David had ultimately placed the whole project in the hands of children. The rules guided them, but they had authority to determine the rules. If this incident spiraled out of control, the whole monastery could be run by Billy. It would be a disaster.

  Then again, Billy was the project. He and the other thirty-six students.

  “We do have risk,” David finally said. “But the others aren’t questioning like Billy has been.”

  “Risk? You don’t throw a child in the pit of death and refer to it as risk.”

  “The pit of death, as you call it, resides in them! They were born with it.” David stretched his arm out and pointed at the monastery wall. “Do you think Billy wasn’t born evil? This study isn’t about protecting them from evil, but teaching them as children to overcome it in the way Christ did.”

  He lowered his arm, face pink from his outburst. “‘Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.’ Should we avoid the valley of death? No! We walk through it and conquer it and then turn back and face it without fear. For the joy set before him, Christ endured the cross. That’s what we are doing, Andrew. I’ve given my life to that, not to false piety!”

  “You’re suggesting that to be genuine conquerors they must face the horrors of evil?”

  “I’m suggesting that the horrors of sin will only be flushed out of hiding when the power of faith confronts them.”

  “Should we sin so that grace may abound?” Andrew demanded. “The children already face evil in their own hearts, as you say. I don’t see the value in subjecting them to the pit of hell itself. Isn’t it better to deal with this in the classroom?”

  For a long moment David stared at him. Then he walked to the bookshelf, withdrew a large ancient Bible, and dropped it on a reading table beside the bookcase. He tapped the cover pointedly.

  “Tell me why the Gospel writers gave us so much detail about the passion of Christ? Never mind, I’ll tell you: so that we wouldn’t forget his suffering. How dare a child of God look away from the pain of evil—doing so undermines the grace that conquers that evil. Of course we don’t sin for the sake of grace, but neither do we sweep evil under a rug and pretend it doesn’t exist. The consequence of evil must be faced by the students if we have any hope of success here.”

  Andrew knew that the director was right, but he couldn’t help throwing out one last sentimental argument.“But they are only children. What if they don’t conquer? What if they are conquered?”

  “These students have been capable of abstract thought since age ten, sooner in many cases. They know how to question good and evil. Billy has chosen the time, not we. And if they are conquered, so be it. It is out of our hands. Now is the time for more prayer, not interference. Our future is in God’s hands.”

  “I agree, but God has given us responsibility for the students. Our hands matter too.”

  “And our hands are tied!” David said. “I suggest we double the morning prayer times and leave Billy’s heart to God.”

  The finality in his tone silenced Andrew. David strode to his desk, picked up an eight-by-ten photograph of his son, Samuel, who was among those students, and looked at the smiling face.

  The room stilled to the sound of their breathing. The connection between David and Samuel had always been a source of profound respect for Andrew. At times like this, he felt oddly compelled to remove his gaze and leave the father to his thoughts, but today he watched. Love, respect, remorse.

  No, not remorse. There was no reason for remorse, not in the case of his son.

  “Where is Samuel?” David asked, eyes still on the picture.

  “I don’t know, sir.”

  David laid the frame down and set a brisk pace toward the door. �
��If you see him, tell him I’m looking for him.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  David left the room.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  PARADISE

  Wednesday afternoon

  JOHNNY PEERED out the front window, down the street, where half a dozen people gathered around Cecil on the bench.

  The kitchen phone clattered into the cradle behind him. “Gotta go,” his mother said. “They want me to take him to Junction.”

  Johnny dropped the curtain.

  Sally swept up some papers from the counter and grabbed a light windbreaker. “They say a bad storm is hitting Montrose, headed north. Don’t worry, I’ll be back by dark.”

  “You have to listen to me, Mom.”

  “Stop it, Johnny. This is crazy. You live in those comics and games, and God help me, you can’t come in here and tell me you saw someone kill Cecil by poking his eyes out.”

  “I didn’t imagine the stranger. He was real. If I didn’t imagine the man, what makes you think I imagined what he did?”

  Sally closed her eyes and took a breath. Eyes open. “Cecil had his own eyes, Johnny—I saw them myself. Blue eyes, not black eyes. How could the stranger poke his eyes out if Cecil still has them?”

  Good point.

  “If I’m right, Cecil had a heart attack.” She used a gentle tone now. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped, but you have to see how crazy this sounds, right?” She plucked the ambulance keys from the hutch. “The mind can do strange things when it’s under a lot of stress. I think seeing someone die of a heart attack qualifies, don’t you?”

  Johnny chewed on his fingernail.

  “Right?”

  “I guess. Can’t someone else take him?”

  “No. This is what I’m paid for.” She smoothed his hair, then pulled his head against her shoulder. “Come on, Johnny, everything’s fine. I know you were close to Cecil. It has to hurt. I’m sorry. We’ll all miss him.”

  He didn’t know what to do, so he just stood still.

  “You’ll be okay,” she said, pulling back.

  “Sure.”

  But he wasn’t sure. Not at all. The image of the man in black jabbing Cecil in the eyes refused to budge from his mind.

  “I’ll call you from Junction.” Sally ruffled his hair and stepped toward the door. “There’s food in the refrigerator. We’re out of milk, maybe you could get some from the store for me.”

  “Okay.”

  “What did I say?”

  “Get milk.”

  She smiled. “Maybe you should do something to occupy your mind—clean your room.”

  “Can I come with you?”

  She shook her head. “State regs. I’ll be back tonight, I promise.”

  He nodded.

  “And you might want to keep the bit about the eyes to yourself.”

  Sally let the screen door slam and ran across the lawn toward the crowd.

  Five minutes later she pulled the red Bronco-turned-ambulance onto Main Street and headed for Junction.

  Johnny sighed and retreated to his room to let his nerves settle.

  But they didn’t settle so quick. Not for an hour. He had to get out.

  “I DON’T care what you think, Katie,” Paula Smither said, staring down the California blonde with her best angry eyes. “He’s a man of God, not some sex object.”

  “Who said anything about sex? I said he was handsome. There a sin against that?”

  They lounged in Katie’s Nails and Tan, and honestly Paula didn’t know why she subjected herself to Katie’s nonstop crap. Forgive the thought, Reverend.

  She sat in one of the dryer chairs, which was a bit small for her, but Chrissy and Mary had already taken the yellow vinyl guest seats. Katie was pouring a cup of coffee by the sales counter. The town’s only official salon was hardly large enough to turn around in, and more gossip than styling went on in it. Most men went to Clipper Dan, the town’s local barber. The women mostly went to Martha or Beatrice, who both cut hair out of their homes. Paula wondered how she’d ended up with this crowd.

  Katie put the coffeepot down and turned. “Were you born this way?”

  “Meaning what?” But Paula knew what Katie meant.

  “You live to make everyone else’s life miserable? So what if I think the preacher’s good-looking?”

  “Good-looking? I think the word you used was hot.”

  “Okay, hot then. You didn’t think he’s hot?”

  “Of course not. He’s a preacher, for heaven’s sake!”

  “He’s a man. Preacher or circus clown, he’s a man.” Katie faced Chrissy and Mary. “He was hot, trust me.”

  Chrissy grinned. “Just what we need around here. A hot preacher.”

  “Fire and brimstone,”Mary said. “You ever date a preacher?”

  “Not yet,” Katie said with a wink.

  Katie was digging for a comeback. Paula refused. This was their regular nonsense, and Katie’s latest cutting remark stuck in Paula’s mind. Born to make everyone else’s life miserable?

  Not everyone, Katie, just you. Only those who need it.

  At least that’s what Paula tried to tell herself. But was that how the others saw her? The goody-goody who walked around making everyone else’s life miserable? The ugly, fat prude who compensated for her own failures by making sure others were fully aware of theirs?

  Was there truth to that?

  “Think about it,” Katie was saying. “Cecil kicked the bucket this afternoon, and people are more interested in Chris’s wart. What does that tell you? You watch, that church will be packed tonight. And they won’t be there for Cecil’s funeral.”

  “Hello, ladies.”

  Paula hadn’t heard the door open. There in the frame stood Marsuvees Black, long black trench coat sucked back by the wind.

  They stared as one.

  He tipped his Stetson hat. “Lovely afternoon.”He grinned. “God is merciful and kind and full of hope and grace. Putting four such lovely women on this earth is all the evidence I need.”

  Katie smiled. “Good afternoon, Preacher.” She glided to him and held out her hand.“My name’s Katie.”

  He took the hand, lifted it to his lips, and kissed it gently. “Katie. Such a ravishing name.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I assume I’ll see you in the church tonight.”

  “Of course.”

  Black’s eyes moved to Chrissy and Mary. He winked. It wasn’t the kind of wink that was necessarily sensual—perhaps just a father-to-son kind of wink. Then again, Paula couldn’t be sure.

  His eyes settled on her. It was the first time his deep blue eyes had stared into her own, and she found the attention unnerving. Katie’s remarks may have been inappropriate, but her friend was right. Black was handsome.

  Beautiful. Intoxicating.

  She felt completely flustered by his stare and desperately wanted to break off, but he seemed to have a hold on her. The realization only made it worse.

  Black stepped past Katie and strode across the room, eyes fixed on Paula. He stopped in front of her and held out his hand.

  She started to lift her hand to him before she realized what she was doing, and by then it was too late to stop without looking like a fool. His fingers gently took hers. He bent and kissed them lightly, letting his warm lips rest on her knuckles for a beat more than she thought necessary. When he straightened, she could feel his hot breath on the back of her hand. He hesitated, looking to her fingers, and for a brief moment she thought he was thinking about licking them.

  Paula blinked away the thought, horrified that it had passed through her mind.

  Black pulled her in with his blue gaze again. “And what is your name, my dear?”

  “Paula,” she said in a light voice.

  “Paula. Paula, Paula.” He seemed to be tasting her name. “Such a . . . beautiful name.”

  Black withdrew his other hand from his pocket, fingers closed in a fist.

  “Have you ever bee
n anointed with oil, Paula?”

  He opened his hand. A gel-like substance filled his palm—oil, she presumed. It smelled odd. Stale and musty. What he thought he was going to do with this smudge he called oil, she wasn’t sure, but she wasn’t about to be anointed or anything—

  Black lifted his hand and applied it to her head, as if smoothing her hair back. “I anoint you with oil. As a sign of my purity to all who see you, a light shall shine from you.”

  Black removed his hand from her head and said so that none of the others could hear, “You are lovely, dear Paula. Your purity is a light on a hill for all to admire.”

  For a long moment he held her eyes. Then he walked toward the door. He turned and smiled at all of them.

  “Thank you for such a warm welcome. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other tonight, but now I have to gather the flock. Make the rounds, so to speak. Ladies.” He tipped his hat again and was gone.

  “Paula?” Katie was staring at her head.

  She lifted her hand to feel the spot on her head where Black had rubbed his hand.

  “Was that bleach?”Mary asked.

  Paula’s hair was moist. She pulled her fingers away, smelled them. Same musty smell. “What?” she asked absently.

  “Your hair’s white!”Katie said.“He have bleach in his hand?” She crossed the salon in two steps. “Bleach couldn’t do that, not that quick.”

  Paula faced the mirror behind her. A streak of white hair ran from her forehead back toward her crown, where Marsuvees Black had wiped his anointing.

  Then Katie had her hands on Paula’s head and was examining her hair up close. “That’s no color, Paula. And if it’s bleach, it’s no bleach I’ve seen. Anything that strong would’ve burned your hair.”

  Paula pushed her away. Her head was tingling.

  For a while they all stared at her in silence. She felt oddly satisfied by the boldness of this one white streak where she parted her dark brown hair, slightly to the right. What was it he had said? A light of purity for everyone to see.

  It occurred to her that she hated the man. He’d forced this anointing of his on her without consent. And she was quite sure that the streak wouldn’t wash out.