THEY STEPPED INTO a wide corridor, its walls white, the ceiling lower here than in the large room, the low hum of air-conditioning the only sound other than that of their footsteps. Every several feet there were framed photographs, all of them of the sky, each an evocative moment of time. Ethan thought there was real talent here: a magnificent sunset, a slash of lightning with a dying sun behind it, moments he’d tried to capture himself.
Kjell walked soundlessly behind them, Joanna in front, Autumn pressed against her side, her hand held tightly in her mother’s. Ethan knew he had a gun pointed at the back of his head.
They passed doors with glass windows and brass door handles, most of them with their blinds pulled tight. He saw a flash as one of the blinds fell, and caught a glimpse of a beautiful young woman’s face through the window before she disappeared. One of the devout? Or someone else? Had they been warned to remain in their rooms to avoid being corrupted by the outsiders? Or did the leaders not want them to know what was happening?
Corridors veered off to the right and left as they walked. It seemed to be a huge place. They walked another twenty feet before Kjell said, “Knock on this door, Sheriff.”
Ethan knocked.
“Enter.”
“Open the door, Sheriff.”
There was no window in this imposing door. Ethan opened it and stepped into a library that held books floor to ceiling on all four of its walls. It was twenty feet deep, and against the back wall there was a large mahogany desk, and behind it stood a man wearing a white robe belted at the waist with a gold-link chain. He was a fine- looking man, in his fifties, tall, slim, his eyes a deep, shocking blue, eyes that pinned you. He held a small pistol in his hand.
Joanna wanted to tell him he looked ridiculous, but the truth was he didn’t. He looked like a biblical prophet. She saw a strange pendant hanging from the belt. She wasn’t close enough to see what it was.
Ethan said, “Caldicot Whistler, I presume?”
“Yes.” Whistler held the gun in an elegant hand, an artist’s hand, long-fingered and graceful. If Ethan wasn’t mistaken, it was a Colt-style 1911 .45 semiautomatic aimed at him, not Joanna or Autumn, and for that he was grateful.
“Blessed told me you were bringing them to me, Kjell. Please stay close. You will be needed again.”
Kjell gave Whistler a slight bow and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Whistler stepped from behind his desk, but he didn’t come close enough for Ethan to make a try for him. Smart man. He said, staring down at Autumn for a long moment, “So this is the child.”
Autumn pressed harder against Joanna’s side.
“Her name is Autumn Backman,” Joanna said.
Whistler ignored her. “I did not know if Blessed would manage it. He is immensely powerful, but there were obviously problems for him this time, and so the two of you are here with her.”
Ethan said, “Did Blessed tell you that Grace is dead?”
Whistler paled. “Yes,” he whispered. “Blessed gave me that tragic news. And it is you who brings it up, Sheriff? You kill a great man, and you think to mock me with it?”
“If I indeed killed him, I have no memory of it, since Blessed had stymied both me and Joanna.”
Whistler closed his eyes an instant, then stared again at Ethan. “Blessed was so upset he ran to see the Father with the news. I knew Blessed was shot in the shoulder by that FBI agent, but this—it is too terrible.”
Joanna said, “What’s terrible is murdering an innocent man and kidnapping a child.”
“Shut up, woman, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Ah, this is unbearable. Grace was incredibly powerful. He was unique; nothing like his talent has ever before been recorded.” He waved a graceful white hand at the shelves of books.
“How could you possibly get close enough to shoot Grace?”
“As I told you, I have no memory of anything.”
Whistler’s face went hard. “It doesn’t matter.” He raised his gun hand.
Joanna said, “The child is watching you, Caldicot. What will happen if you shoot Ethan? What will this Father person think of you then?”
Whistler slowly lowered the gun. “You are alive, Sheriff, only as long as it suits the Father. You need to remember that.” He fell silent, shook his head back and forth. “It is hard to believe Grace is dead. What a huge loss for all of us. The devout will miss him. And the Father will be desolate.”
Ethan said, “Even the powerful die, you know that.”
Whistler looked at each of them, his eyes coming to rest on Autumn. “Blessed knew I would want to see you, speak to you. I fear you cannot take your uncle’s place; no one can. It is a pity, child, that you will never know your uncle’s devotion, his loyalty to his family, his infinite patience with our people. He held such high hopes for you, but now he will never see what you become. He hoped that in the fullness of time you would achieve powers that will astound everyone, as he knew his did. He died for you.”
Ethan said, “No, he died because he tried to kidnap her and murder us. Whatever else he was, he was a criminal.”
“It would give me infinite pleasure to shoot you, Sheriff.”
Ethan decided he just might, despite Autumn’s being there. He gave Whistler a big smile. “Your room is quite professorial. Is that your role here? To teach all the people who sign on here?”
“Like all the devout, I am also a student. I learn as they learn, pray for powers as they pray. In addition, I am the financial officer of Twilight.”
“It must have cost very big bucks to build this underground bunker.”
“Indeed, but then, money is very easy to come by for us, Sheriff. Even with Grace’s passing, it will not be a problem. Blessed can simply walk into a bank and walk out with whatever amount is available. If one is accepted among us, poor or rich, money isn’t necessary.”
Joanna said slowly, “You mean people contact you through your blog and you interview them? You decide if they’re worthy to be buried in this white tomb? They actually come?”
Whistler looked enraged at what she’d said, Ethan thought, but he held himself in check. Whistler looked down at Autumn, saw she was staring up at him, and said, “Naturally they are screened. We are serious about our secrecy here. Those who witness Blessed and Grace’s gifts are enthralled. They eagerly accept our rules. They come to learn about all those who came before us, hoping they might come to understand those gifts from God. When they see unlimited wealth and the promise of psychic powers, the problem is to select among them, to keep the unworthy out.”
Ethan said, “Do you enthrall them as well, Caldicot? Do you have a gift?”
“I will be given what is rightfully mine—”
“—in the fullness of time?” Joanna finished.
He swung the gun at her. Ethan was an instant away from jumping at him when Whistler took a quick step back. “Stop, Sheriff. I will kill you. Believe me.”
Ethan said, “I do indeed believe you, Caldicot. Do you know, I think you could be a model for Jesus except for the gun in your hand, and the blue eyes.”
“Ah, Jesus. I believe he was a good man, but I prefer the prophet Corinth. He is the Alpha and the Omega; he is the one we worship.”
Ethan’s eyebrow went up. “Corinth?”
“His was a magnificent power, not in the same way as Grace, but remarkable nonetheless. Perhaps Corinth did not have the goodness of Jesus and Grace, but he was a chaste man, a man of infinite wisdom, a man who could control those around him with a click of his fingers.” He snapped his fingers in their faces.
“I’ve never heard of a prophet named Corinth,” Joanna said.
He scarcely gave her a glance. “You are a woman. Why would you have heard of anything important?”
“I haven’t heard of him either,” Ethan said. “So this Corinth had a psychic ability that astounded people?”
“Corinth could read the secrets in men’s minds, knew what they truly wanted and how to manipulate them to gain whatever wished. He was powerful and he was feared; no one dared touch him. All of us are here to try to understand the source of his powers, and of those who are gifted here among us. I wish Corinth were here, but he is not. Like poor Grace, Corinth is no longer of this earth.”
