child.'
'Yes, Father. I give thanks to God' She jerked suddenly and moaned, her head tipping back.
He cradled her head in his hands, his fingers moving gently as though massaging her scalp, his own head moving side to side like some creature searching blindly. 'Give thanks to God,' he said hoarsely. 'Give thanks to me. Give yourself to me, child.'
Bambi moaned again. Her hands, resting on the arms of the chair, twitched spasmodically and then curled over the wood, fingers tightening until they turned white with the force.
'Give to me, child. Give me all that you are, all you have.'
'Yes, Father yes oh, God it feels so good'
Her breasts rose and fell jerkily and her body shuddered. Again and again, as though shaken by wave after wave of sensation. Long minutes passed. Her face paled, then flushed, then paled again. Her moans grew quieter, weaker. Her hands relaxed their grip on the chair, fingers loosening and finally letting go.
Reverend Samuel lifted his head, his eyes opening. He looked down at her for a moment, then took his hands off her and walked around behind his desk.
He was changed. His face showed a healthy color, his eyes were bright, and his every movement showed a dynamic energy. Even his hair looked more silver than gray. He seemed almost to glow.
'Thank you, child,' he said softly. He settled into his chair, then pressed a button on a very elaborate-looking phone system.
The door opened, and Reese DeMarco stepped into the room.
'Bambi and I are done,' Samuel said.
'Of course, Father.' DeMarco went to the visitor's chair and picked Bambi up, holding her limp body easily. His face was completely without expression. 'Will there be anything else tonight?' he added, waiting there with the young woman cradled in his arms.
'No, I think not. Good night, Reese.'
'Good night, Father.' DeMarco carried Bambi from the room, closing the door quietly behind them.
Samuel leaned back in his chair and chuckled. 'It's good not to be hungry,' he said.
Tessa sat up in bed with a gasp, her heart pounding.
He was feeding off them.
'He's aa goddamn psychic
'Sounds like it,' Hollis agreed.
Tessa turned to face the other woman, cradling her cup in both hands as she took a cautious sip of the hot coffee. 'You don't seem surprised,' she said finally, slowly.
'Well, we had the suspicion it would work like that. Or that it could, at least. A brain apparently hardwired to steal psychic abilities is already stealing energy. Somewhere along the way, he must have realized he could steal enough to replenish whatever he expended.'
Hollis sounded and looked wide awake, despite the fact that it was half past four in the morning and she was in a nightgown and robe, just as Tessa was.
Tessa stared at her. 'Most people just rest when they've used up energy reserves.'
Hollis shook her head. 'Most people don't use energy the way psychics do. Even so, the majority of psychics probably do just rest, sleep. Hell, after one case, I slept for four days straight.'
'Samuel can't do that?'
'Maybe he can. Maybe he can't. Maybe he can't afford the luxury of being that weak and vulnerable for that long.'
'Because he has enemies?'
'Because he has to hold on to his flock.'
Tessa thought about that for a moment. 'If he weakens too much, or for too long, then his grip loosens. And theywhat? Wake up? Realize they've been held captive by a kind of power most of them would consider witchcraft?'
'If I were him, that's what I'd be afraid of. Especially if I'd risked a lot of power once, maybe even nearly all I hadand came home, weakened, to find my followers in the middle of a minor revolt.'
'Did he?'
'According to some information Sarah found, it happened last October. A number of weird things happened last October. Just about the time we thought we were wrapping up a serial murder case in a little town outside Atlanta.'
'Venture.'
'Venture.'
Tessa frowned. 'You didn't mention that before.'
'I didn't know.' Hollis grimaced. 'I talked to Bishop last night. He told me then. Apparently, Samuel was able to reestablish control over his people fairly quickly, but we're not really sure how he managed that.'
'Psychically?'
'If that's the hold he has over them.'
'You sound doubtful.'
'Well I am. Controlling the mind and will of just one other person is an incredibly complex thing, beyond the limits of any psychic we've yet to encounter, no matter how powerful he or she was. The closest we've seen to any kind of mind control was between blood siblings, and even then the control was extremely erratic and uncertain. To control over a hundred people? All at once? All the time? Some of them outside the Compound, miles away in town? No. Samuel's not that powerful. He can't be.'
Tessa accepted that, but more because she didn't want it to be true than because she was absolutely convinced. And she wasn't entirely sure that Hollis didn't feel exactly the same way 'Okay. If he isn't controlling them psychically, then how?'
'I think he's using his abilities but in a far more limited and precise way. You read up on cult leaders; they all use a combination of techniques, from strictly controlled schedules and structures to sleep deprivation, social isolation, sexual or emotional domination, public confession of sins and supposed sins, and flat-out brainwashing. Indoctrination through hours and hours of sermons, the central theme of which is always a variation of Us Against Them. Us being the chosen ones, of course. Them being everybody else, all outsiders, who are collectively and individually a dire threat to Us.'
'Yeah, I remember reading all that. But none of the cult leaders I read about was psychic.'
'I imagine they would have loved to be, though. For one thing, the hours of sermons wouldn't be as necessary if you could make every single one pack a supercharged punch.'
'Is that what Samuel does?'
'We think so. From Sarah's reports, 'services' aren't an everyday thing, much less an all-night thing. But he does appear to speak to and touch every one of his followers every single day, and they do appear to be, for want of a better word, mesmerized.' Hollis shrugged. 'Plus, just think about all the nice, convincing miracles you might be able to pull off in front of a highly suggestible audience more than willing to believe you're God's messenger on earth. We humans have a long and storied history of following prophets and messiahs.'
'No matter where they lead us.'
'No matter where they lead us,' Hollis agreed.
Brooke knew her friends were right. She knew she couldn't get all the way to Texas all by herself. But knowing that didn't help. Knowing that she
