Living Dead in Dallas (15 page)

“When was the last time you were in church?” He was issuing me a challenge.

“About a week ago. And I took Communion, too.” I was never happier to be a churchgoer, because I couldn’t have lied about that.

“Oh.” Godfrey looked dumbfounded.

“See?” I felt I was robbing him of all his wounded majesty by this argument, but dammit, I didn’t want to die by burning. I wanted Bill, wanted him with a longing so intense I hoped it would pop his coffin open. If only I could tell him what was going on. . . . “Come on,” said Godfrey, holding out his hand.

I didn’t want to give him a chance to rethink his position, not after this long do-si-do, so I took his hand and stepped over Gabe’s prone form out into the hall. There was an ominous lack of conversation from Farrell and Hugo, and to tell the truth, I was too scared to call out to find out what was going on with them. I figured if I could get out, I could rescue them both, anyway.

Godfrey sniffed the blood on me, and his face was swept with longing. I knew that look. But it was devoid of lust. He didn’t care a thing for my body. The link between blood and sex is very strong for all vampires, so I considered myself lucky that I was definitely adult in form. I inclined my face to him out of courtesy. After a long hesitation, he licked the trickle of blood from the cut on my cheekbone. He closed his eyes for a second, savoring the taste, and then we started for the stairs.

With a great deal of help from Godfrey, I made it up the steep flight. He used his free arm to punch in a combination on the door, and swung it open. “I’ve been staying down here, in the room at the end,” he explained, in a voice that was hardly more than a disturbance of the air.

The corridor was clear, but any second someone
might come out of one of the offices. Godfrey didn’t seem to fear that at all, but I did, and I was the one whose freedom was at stake. I didn’t hear any voices; apparently the staff had gone home to get ready for the lock-in, and the lock-in guests had not yet started arriving. Some of the office doors were closed, and the windows in the offices were the only means of sunlight getting to the hall. It was dark enough for Godfrey to be comfortable, I assumed, since he didn’t even wince. There was bright artificial light coming from under the main office door.

We hurried, or at least tried to, but my left leg was not very cooperative. I wasn’t sure what door Godfrey was heading toward, perhaps double doors I’d seen earlier at the back of the sanctuary. If I could get safely out of those, I wouldn’t have to traverse the other wing. I didn’t know what I’d do when I got outside. But being outside would definitely be better than being inside. Just as we reached the open doorway to the next-to-last office on the left, the one from which the tiny Hispanic woman had come, the door to Steve’s office opened. We froze. Godfrey’s arm around me felt like an iron band. Polly stepped out, still facing into the room. We were only a couple of yards away.

“. . . bonfire,” she was saying.

“Oh, I think we’ve got enough,” Sarah’s sweet voice said. “If everyone returned their attendance cards, we’d know for sure. I can’t believe how bad people are about not replying. It’s so inconsiderate, after we made it as easy as possible for them to tell us whether or not they’d be here!”

An argument about etiquette. Gosh, I wished Miss Manners were here to give me advice on this situation.
I was an uninvited guest of a small church, and I left without saying good-bye. Am I obliged to write a thank-you note, or may I simply send flowers?

Polly’s head began turning, and I knew any moment she would see us. Even as the thought formed, Godfrey pushed me into the dark empty office.

“Godfrey! What are you doing up here?” Polly didn’t sound frightened, but she didn’t sound happy, either. It was more like she’d found the yardman in the living room, making himself at home.

“I came to see if there is anything more I need to do.”

“Isn’t it awfully early for you to be awake?”

“I am very old,” he said politely. “The old don’t need as much sleep as the young.”

Polly laughed. “Sarah,” she said brightly, “Godfrey’s up!”

Sarah’s voice sounded closer, when she spoke. “Well, hey, Godfrey!” she said, in an identical bright tone. “Are you excited? I bet you are!”

They were talking to a thousand-year-old vampire like he was a child on his birthday eve.

“Your robe’s all ready,” Sarah said. “All systems go!”

“What if I changed my mind?” Godfrey asked.

There was a long silence. I tried to breathe very slowly and quietly. The closer it got to dark the more I could imagine I had a chance of getting out of this.

If I could telephone . . . I glanced over at the desk in the office. There was a telephone on it. But wouldn’t the buttons in the offices light up, the buttons for that line, if I used the phone? At the moment, it would make too much noise.

“You changed your mind? Can this be possible?” Polly asked. She was clearly exasperated. “You came to us, remember? You told us about your life of sin, and the shame you felt when you killed children and . . . did other things. Has any of this changed?”

“No,” Godfrey said, sounding more thoughtful than anything else. “None of this has changed. But I see no need to include any humans in this sacrifice of mine. In
fact, I believe that Farrell should be left to make his own peace with God. We shouldn’t force him into immolation.”

“We need to get Steve back here,” Polly said to Sarah in an undertone.

After that, I just heard Polly, so I assumed Sarah had gone back into the office to call Steve.

One of the lights on the phone lit up. Yep, that was what she was doing. She’d know if I tried to use one of the other lines. Maybe in a minute.

Polly was trying sweet reason with Godfrey. Godfrey was not talking much, himself, and I had no idea what was going through his head. I stood helplessly, pressed against the wall, hoping no one would come into the office, hoping no one would go downstairs and raise the alarm, hoping Godfrey wouldn’t have yet another change of heart.

Help,
I said in my mind. If only I could call for help that way, through my other sense!

A flicker of an idea crossed my mind. I made myself stand calmly, though my legs were still trembling with shock, and my knee and face hurt like the six shades of hell. Maybe I
could
call someone: Barry, the bellboy. He was a telepath, like me. He could be able to hear me. Not that I’d ever made such an attempt before—well, I’d never met another telepath, had I? I tried desperately to locate myself in relation to Barry, assuming he was at work. This was about the same time we’d arrived from Shreveport, so he might be. I pictured my location on the map, which luckily I’d looked up with Hugo—though I knew now that he had been pretending not to know where the Fellowship Center was—and I figured we were southwest of the Silent Shore Hotel.

I was in new mental territory. I gathered up what energy I had and tried to roll it into a ball, in my mind. For a second, I felt absolutely ridiculous, but when I
thought of getting free of this place and these people, there was very little to gain in not being ridiculous. I thought to Barry. It’s hard to peg down exactly how I did it, but I projected. Knowing his name helped, and knowing his location helped.

I decided to start easy.
Barry Barry Barry Barry . . .

What do you want?
He was absolutely panicked. This had never happened to him before.

I’ve never done this either.
I hoped I sounded reassuring.
I need help. I’m in big trouble.

Who are you?

Well, that would help. Stupid me.
I’m Sookie, the blond who came in last night with the brown-haired vampire. Third-floor suite.

The one with the boobs? Oh, sorry.

At least he’d apologized.
Yes. The one with the boobs. And the boyfriend.

So, what’s the matter?

Now, all this sounds very clear and organized, but it wasn’t words. It was like we were sending each other emotional telegrams and pictures.

I tried to think how to explain my predicament.
Get my vampire as soon as he wakes.

And then?

Tell him I’m in danger. Dangerdangerdanger . . .

Okay, I get the idea. Where?

Church.
I figured that would be shorthand for the Fellowship Center. I couldn’t think how to convey that to Barry.

He knows where?

He knows where. Tell him, Go down the stairs.

Are you for real? I didn’t know there was anyone else . . .

I’m for real. Please, help me.

I could feel a complicated bundle of emotions racing through Barry’s mind. He was scared of talking to a
vampire, he was frightened that his employers would discover he had a “weird brain thing,” he was just excited that there was someone like him. But mostly he was scared of this part of him that had puzzled and frightened him for so long.

I knew all those feelings.
It’s okay, I understand,
I told him.
I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t going to be killed.

Fear struck him again, fear of his own responsibility in this. I should never have added that.

And then, somehow, he erected a flimsy barrier between us, and I wasn’t sure what Barry was going to do.

W
HILE I
’
D BEEN
concentrating on Barry, things had been moving right along in the hall. When I began listening again, Steve had returned. He, too, was trying to be reasonable and positive with Godfrey.

“Now, Godfrey,” he was saying, “if you didn’t want to do this, all you had to do was say so. You committed to it, we all did, and we’ve moved forward with every expectation that you would keep to your word. A lot of people are going to be very disappointed if you lose your commitment to the ceremony.”

“What will you do with Farrell? With the man Hugo, and the blond woman?”

“Farrell’s a vampire,” said Steve, still the voice of sweet reason. “Hugo and the woman are vampires’ creatures. They should go to the sun, too, tied to a vampire. That is the lot they chose in their lives, and it should be their lot in death.”

“I am a sinner, and I know it, so when I die my soul will go to God,” Godfrey said. “But Farrell does not know this. When he dies, he won’t have a chance. The man and woman, too, have not had a chance to repent their ways. Is it fair to kill them and condemn them to hell?”

“We need to go into my office,” Steve said decisively.

And I realized, finally, that that was what Godfrey had been aiming for all along. There was a certain amount of foot shuffling, and I heard Godfrey murmur, “After you,” with great courtesy.

He wanted to be last so he could shut the door behind him.

My hair finally felt dry, freed from the wig that had drenched it in sweat. It was hanging around my shoulders in separate locks, because I’d been silently unpinning it during the conversation. It had seemed a casual thing to be doing, while listening to my fate being settled, but I had to keep occupied. Now I cautiously pocketed the bobby pins, ran my fingers through the tangled mess, and prepared to sneak out of the church.

I peered cautiously from the doorway. Yes, Steve’s door was closed. I tiptoed out of the dark office, took a left, and continued to the door leading into the sanctuary. I turned its knob very quietly and eased it open. I stepped into the sanctuary, which was very dusky. There was just enough light from the huge stained-glass windows to help me get down the aisle without falling over the pews.

Then I heard voices, getting louder, coming from the far wing. The lights in the sanctuary came on. I dove into a row and rolled under the pew. A family group came in, all talking loudly, the little girl whining about missing some favorite show on television because she had to go to the stinky old lock-in.

That got her a slap on the bottom, sounded like, and her father told her she was lucky she was going to get to see such an amazing evidence of the power of God. She was going to see salvation in action.

Even under the circumstances, I took issue with that. I wondered if this father really understood that his leader planned for the congregation to watch two vampires
burn to death, at least one of them clutching a human who would also burn. I wondered how the little girl’s mental health would fare after that “amazing evidence of the power of God.”

To my dismay, they proceeded to put their sleeping bags up against a wall on the far side of the sanctuary, still talking. At least this was a family that communicated. In addition to the whiny little girl, there were two older kids, a boy and a girl, and like true siblings they fought like cats and dogs.

A pair of small flat red shoes trotted by the end of my pew and disappeared through the door into Steve’s wing. I wondered if the group in his office was still debating.

The feet went by again after a few seconds, this time going very fast. I wondered about that, too.

I waited about five more minutes, but nothing else happened.

From now on, there would be more people coming in. It was now or never. I rolled out from under the pew and got up. By my good fortune, they were all looking down at their task when I stood up, and I began walking briskly to the double doors at the back of the church. By their sudden silence, I knew they’d spotted me.

“Hi!” called the mother. She rose to her feet beside her bright blue sleeping bag. Her plain face was full of curiosity. “You must be new at the Fellowship. I’m Francie Polk.”

“Yes,” I called, trying to sound cheerful. “Gotta rush! Talk to you later!”

She drew closer. “Have you hurt yourself?” she asked. “You—excuse me—you look awful. Is that blood?”

I glanced down at my blouse. There were some small stains on my chest.

“I had a fall,” I said, trying to sound rueful. “I need
to go home and do a little first aid, change my clothes, like that. I’ll be back!”

I could see the doubt on Francie Polk’s face. “There’s a first aid kit in the office, why don’t I just run and get that?” she asked.

Because I don’t want you to.
“You know, I need to get a fresh blouse, too,” I said. I wrinkled my nose to show my low opinion of going around in a spotted blouse all evening.