Dark to Mortal Eyes (68 page)

“You let him walk into my trap at the monument.” Marsh was appalled by her obdurate tone. “You set him up to taste defeat. You poisoned his thinking, Trudi!”

“He deserved punishment for his failure to take heed.”

“And now,” Kara said with disgust, “he’s punished himself. Are you happy?”

“Don’t you have any reaction whatsoever?” Marsh pitched in.

“Not at this time, no. I raised him with vengeance as a goal, feeding him stories of abandonment and cruelty. This action he’s committed is consistent with his thought processes. He could not live to face defeat from an Addison. Stahlherz was the son your parents allegedly lost at delivery. You were their second, Marsh.”

“You know nothing about my father. What proof do you have?”

Trudi laughed. “Sins of the fathers passed to the third and fourth generations. A biblical concept, am I correct? Familial transgressions.”

“Under the old law, that’s true,” said Kara.

“Old law, ha. I’ve read the words myself. Sins must be paid for!”

Marsh was attentive. This was the curse he’d been striving under the past few days, even years. Sins of the fathers. Was there a way to break the cycle?

Chance’s indiscretions … Braddock’s intrusion … My own mistakes …

“Yes,” Kara conceded. “But the curse has lost its power. Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross broke the power of separation and death, reuniting us with his Father.” Kara was gaining confidence; her voice was less shaky. “Once God adopts us into his family, we’re no longer enslaved to the rules of the old household. We’re given a clean slate.”

“Sounds too good to be true, particularly from the lips of an adulterer.”

Kara wavered. Wrestling with her own shame.

Trudi was relentless. “And as we can all see, you’ve been imbibing again of late.”

“I’m not perfect. Yes, I know that.”

Marsh came to his wife’s defense. “Trudi, your accusations are immaterial. As Kara said, the curse has no power. She’s been forgiven. She’s part of God’s family.”

“All very charming. Light applause.” Trudi chortled, then her tone changed as she spewed words that would seal her decision. “How dare you sit and offer smug forgiveness? You are filth! You slap the face of the afflicted! I don’t think that you’ve seen the real power of the curse. A serpent’s poison can be deadly, yes, but a family’s sin. It’s an accelerant that increases the potency. Now that you’ve been forced to swallow your father’s betrayal, don’t try to convince me that you’re immune to its effects. You think you can combat this venom? No, I don’t believe you’re ready for it.”

“You’re the one who’s not ready.” Sergeant Turney had clambered to his feet.

My sparring partner!

Josee’s pain turned into determination. The old woman’s finger fangs still clung to her head, but Turney was advancing. With Trudi intent on this
newest opposition, Josee drew her feet up beneath her. If she could just get the right leverage …

Trudi droned, “Come and join us, Sergeant. All I wanted was a simple meal by the sea. Let’s all sup together, shall we?” She swerved from Josee to the head of the table where she placed a hand on the metal canister. “We shall once and for all drink and be satiated. All a matter of surrender.” She spread both arms in a gesture of abandon, summoning coiled vapors from the canister before her.

Although Trudi Ubelhaar was now positioned two yards from Josee’s seat, the fangs still hovered over Josee’s ears. With all that had happened in the past few days, Josee was more incensed than surprised by the apparition emerging at the head of the table. She watched Trudi’s honey hair change color in the night. The cords of hair congealed into writhing shapes of green—snapping around her neck, slithering about her eyes and ears. On the woman’s scalp, the mass of serpents moved with tongues alive and scales flexing in the moonlight.

Most of the snakes were small, but others were fat and outstretched.

Two extended back around Josee’s neck to her ears. Others zeroed in on Marsh and Kara. One large viper drifted in Sarge’s direction.

“Driiink!” Trudi reached for her quartet of gas-masked cohorts.

Josee knew they couldn’t see the snakes, but the venom in the air was palpable.

The ICV recruits flinched and drew together. They were unprepared for Trudi’s reaction as she lashed out in consternation, hooking vipers into arms, spreading appendages in involuntary surrender. The recruits fell, frozen, to the ground.

She hissed blasphemies. “You, too, shall taste this cup. Drink in my memory.”

The cone of the ancient canister twirled open with ease, and Trudi tipped it like an urn, dispensing poison over each wineglass. Miasmic orbs hovered there, chained to the confines of the glass rims.

“Josee …”

The whisper followed a nudge beneath the table, and Josee’s eyes shifted down. She saw that Kara had worked taped wrists beneath her thighs and feet.
Her fingers were tugging at her hip pocket, working a swatch of pink into view.

“This is yours—”

“Halt dein Mund!”
Trudi’s gaze whipped along the table. “Keep quiet!”

Still whispering: “Your birth cap, Josee, from the hospital. I’ve saved it.”

“That’s enough!” Trudi roared. “I did not ask you to speak.”

Josee palmed the tiny hat, felt its warm knit texture on her skin. She tucked it into her pants, lifted her face to meet Kara’s soft expression—soft, yes, but hardening with a protective mother’s resolve. At Kara’s neck, a set of fangs yawned. The creature’s breath turned to steam in the cold air.

“Mom!”

Josee was about to dive at the thing when her mother made a move.

In a sweeping motion, Kara ducked forward and cleared the table of fine stemware. Wineglasses, deep red liquid, and wisps of poison littered the air in a kaleidoscope of color. The glasses struck Trudi’s abdomen, splattering wine in crimson stains. Taking her cue, Josee shifted her weight to her feet and sprang to the tabletop. She toppled bowls and soup and smashed the candleholders. Pain clawed through her ears as fangs ripped back, and her vision reeled. The breeze stung her eyes. Stars spun.

“Marsh,” Kara cried. A snake had encircled her ankle and now coiled upward.

Josee dodged a pair of serpents that struck at her head. She kicked once at the vintage wine bottle in the center of the table, aiming it toward Trudi. A viper struck her arm. She kicked again. Her feet connected this time and catapulted the Addison Ridge bottle. The object cut through her attached viper’s translucent form, bounced from the table’s ledge, then broke its neck in a shower of glass that sprayed toward Trudi’s Medusalike head. The shards wedged between the fangs of myriad snakes.

The snakes followed their larger kin toward Marsh and Kara.

Josee slipped in the pools of spilled wine and fell backward onto the table. She found herself prostrate over silverware and plates. Her head was pounding, a rock wall crumbling piece by piece, giving way to the lingering poison.

“Jesus!” Another beast was hovering over her, rear fangs extended amid a shower of spittle and hot venom. Her cry was a statement of faith. “Help us!”

The ocean was spewing frosty breath over the crags and cliffs, and the moon was a pale eye watching the proceedings. Turney knew that he should be weakening from the poison Trudi had released. To his surprise, he felt invigorated.

But hadn’t he failed in his fasting exercise? Yes, and in so doing, he’d been reminded of his true source of strength. Although his scars were moist beneath his shirt, he realized they might indicate his growing immunity to the poison. Twin shots. Inoculations. Building resistance to ward off the disease. He’d held his ground, even removed a length of Trudi’s hair as it snaked along his chest. Around her scalp, her tresses had formed a dance of green fire. He didn’t understand it exactly, but her power had seemed to emanate from the metal canister.

That thing’s gotta go. No more messin’ around!

Turney took a breath and vaulted toward the silvery object in her hands.

Vaporous poison had stripped away Marsh’s clarity. He was sullen. He worked his hands free from the duct tape and sat wringing his fingers. Fading, drifting. Through drooping eyelids, he watched his wife and daughter take action, yet remained paralyzed on the bench. This entire scenario was impossible. Ropes of creatures swirling about Trudi’s face? Orbs of poison in the air?

No. Madness setting in. Losing touch.

He could always crawl to the cliff’s edge and let go … like Karl Stahlherz.
Do it!

Then spotlights came on. In his mind. The words from Kara’s Bible: “We are not fighting against people … but against … mighty powers of darkness.… Use every piece of God’s armor to resist the enemy.”

God, give me strength to stand—to stand firm!

Marsh pulled himself to his feet, drilled his eyes into Trudi, and spotted vipers directed at Josee and Kara. Josee was down on the table; Kara was standing. The creatures stabbed toward them. Banging the table’s edge with
his knee, Marsh clawed over the wood to thrust himself between attackers and prey. His arms flung forward.

Sets of scimitar fangs carved through both hands. Nailed him in place.

Impaled above the table, he groaned, then fell onto the planks as fangs retracted. Beads of blood and venom pushed through the holes in his skin. His nerves began to riot. Quivering in the poison’s grip, he realized that this was a picture of Christ on the cross. Marsh could only follow the example: “Love your wives with the same love Christ showed the church. He gave up his life for her.”

But I’m only a man … a mortal
.

Each nerve was screaming now. Each cell a torch. A million torches … running their flames beneath his skin. An unholy fire, consuming him.

Then the fire shut down. His nervous system threw the switch.

No more signals. No more pain. Nothing.

Ignoring Trudi’s stale cinnamon breath, Sergeant Turney moved in. He set aside his fear and doubts and determined that he could show no more pity for this wretched old woman who’d made choices to impose her will on the world around her.

He wrested the canister from her grip and jerked his head away from the hair that beat in the wind and slapped at him.