Faith of the Divine Inferno - Leslie Thompson (best short novels of all time TXT) 📗

were hung with scenes from Biblical stories, colorful banners with poorly embroidered scriptures, and large bouquets of silk flowers set on the large metal platform at the back of the room. A wooden pulpit had been erected at the platform’s center, and there was a drum set and electric guitars set up behind it. Above it, a massive, neon lit crucifix had been suspended from the rafters so that it implied whomever spoke from the pulpit was speaking with divine authority.
The congregation seating started with three long rows of padded, wooden pews in front of the platform, obviously the reserved seating for the most prominent church members. For the peons there were cold, metal folding chairs without cushions to lend some comfort. A single, wide aisle had been created down the center of the chapel, so that people could move about if they wanted to. I studied the congregation crowding the chapel and nearly turned on my heel and ran for it. Everyone was dressed in the white and yellow cult uniform, with one or two potential recruits wearing ordinary street clothes and uncertain expressions on their faces.
“Do you still want to get your head count?” Alejandro sneered.
No, I really didn’t. I studied the way these people moved and talked, as if their piety was the last thing in the world left to them. They were too urgent in their polite conversation, like they weren’t sure that they should really be here and sought validation of their choices from each other. The air stank of desperation so thick I could taste its sourness at the back of my throat. All of these people were easy prey for a charming predator that would send them out like lambs to the slaughter for no reason other than because it amused him. This is why I don’t get involved. Now that I was staring at these desperate and mindless creatures, I saw them as people who needed to be saved. In my heart I knew that I could rescue them and I felt obligated to do it. Wishing that I could walk away without guilt, and knowing that I couldn’t, I sat down in a chair near the back wall to wait for things to start.
“Hi!” came a bright and perky voice. “Have you come to hear the words of Christ from Reverend Ryerson himself?”
I saw a girl of eighteen or nineteen standing over me and groaned. She was a lovely creature, with big, dark, doe eyes, and delicate bones. She was practically vibrating with joyful excitement so that her dark Hispanic coloring was full of a lush, rosy glow. This girl was the image of what the first blush of womanhood should be, full of life and innocence. She was exactly the kind of beauty that ended up being rescued from monsters in fairy tales because she was so very lovely and all around wonderful. I wanted to puke. I offered her a weak smile, and thought that she was the loveliest corpse I had ever seen. This is what sucks the most about murderous religious cults. They always destroyed the best among them.


Chapter 10

I’d done everything I could, short of yelling at the girl, to get her to go back to wherever she came from. Alejandro had stymied every insult and crude insinuation that fell from my lips with compliments that made Mabel Fortuno blush charmingly and he made pointed questions that screamed ‘I want to do you right now’. The girl’s interest had quickly focused on the handsome Mexican at my side and she batted her eyelashes at him. They flirted with single minded intent, leaving me alone in a sea of people. I could tolerate only a few minutes of Mabel’s vapid giggling at Alejandro’s dumb jokes before I had to move so I wouldn’t scream.
I scanned the congregation, considering where best to park my carcass. I chose a seat in the middle of the room next to the aisle so that I could make a quick getaway if I needed to. Seconds later, the lights dimmed and everyone rushed to their seats. Every chair in the chapel was taken in a matter of minutes, and I found myself surrounded by a sea of yellow and white devotees. I blew out a nervous breath and kept my eyes stubbornly on the platform in order to avoid eye contact with any of my neighbors and instigating an unwanted conversation.
A spotlight cut a beam of light upon the platform, casting black shadows thick enough to feel like walls pressing in against me. The crowd bustled with excitement and made hushing noises. The room went eerily silent, devoid even of the rustling of cloth as bodies shifted in their seats. It was as if every person in the room was held in motionless thrall. I dared a glance at my neighbor and found the man staring intently forward, his features stiff with an expression of ecstasy. A weird odor poured off of him, smelling bitterly sharp of henbane and human sweat.
Disgusted, I leaned slightly away from the man and tried to breathe in another direction. Henbane is a nasty weed from the nightshade family, and once absorbed inside the body it can cause anything from giddiness to death, depending on the quantity taken and how it was absorbed. This guy reeked as if he had been smoking it, which meant that he was truly stoned and probably dying. He lifted one sausage fingered hand from his lap and pulled at the collar of his shirt. A large stone spilled from between his fingers, catching the harsh light trained ahead of us and flashed in a riot of color. Strange symbols and figures were cut into the jewel’s surface that flared then faded.
A cold chill crept across my skin and an old memory flashed through my mind. The opal grasped in the man’s hand reminded me of the Abraxas Stones I had encountered during my travels through the ancient Persian lands. They had been talismans of great power, supposedly possessed by demons known as djin and bestowed luck and wealth to any who possessed them. They had been precious gems of profound beauty, and I had coveted a pair of them enough that I stole them from a senile old sultan. Now they were tucked away in a safety deposit box of a Swiss bank.
But what was clutched in the man’s sweaty fist was a cruel mockery of the fabled Stones. While the opal was as beautiful as any jewel I have ever seen, there was darkness to the fluid shine and vibrant color of the soft gem. It looked as if it was eating the light that grazed its surface instead of reflecting it with majestic glory. I was repelled to the point that my skin crawled and I nearly stood and left the church. I glanced around and saw more of these stones in people’s fingers, greedily eating any light that touched them. I saw so many that I suspected that every full member of the church possessed one.
A single note from electric guitars cut through the silence like magic. The spotlight made it impossible to see anything but the podium, so the music sounded like the air was singing. That first note began low and sorrowful, then grew into a complex melody that sang with complicated chords filled with triumph. The congregation slowly rose from their seats in time with the lift of the music. By the time the man in the black suit stepped up to the podium, everyone was on their feet and swaying as one to the music.
The mortal I assumed was Ryerson appeared in the spotlight as if he had been poured out of the darkness behind it. He stretched out his hands in a gesture of benevolence and a beatific smile on his face. He wore a three-piece suit with a yellow tie against a white shirt. His thick brown hair was brushed in waves away from the sharp angular bones of his handsome face. He smiled broadly, lifting his eyes to the light as if accepting some divine grace.
The congregation was humming along with the music, their bodies swaying in unison so that I was forced to move closer to the aisle to avoid being touched by any of them. They clutched each other’s hands and lifted them high over their heads without breaking the rhythm of their swaying. The man on the platform smiled broadly and thanked the congregation for their praise, humbly gesturing for them to stop while subtly encouraging them on. This guy was full of shit, more so than any other hypocritical religious douche I’ve encountered in a long time. He was also a little scary. The people around me were devoted to the point that they didn’t question anything he did, and they were bringing in new recruits.
Finally, Reverend Ryerson made a gesture and immediately, the congregation fell silent as if a switch had been flipped. Still smiling, he stepped to the podium and folded his hands on it. The smile stretched across his face was like the grin of a wolf examining a herd of placid sheep in search of the juiciest specimen for his supper.
“My brothers and sisters, it is joy that has brought us together, and it is joy that keeps us together,” Ryerson began in a voice that was strong and low. It felt like the caress of velvet across my cheek and I felt warm and comfortable while a little voice in my head screamed in helpless terror. The congregation shouted agreement, their voices happy as they encouraged the Reverend to continue speaking.
I remember very little about the sermon that was performed over the next hour and a half. After a few minutes, I felt a terrible lethargy consume my mind so that I was unable to create a coherent thought of my own. Even the frantic voice in my head was faltering into a small whisper that I could easily ignore. I wasn’t aware of Ryerson’s words as much as I was overwhelmed by the emotion consuming me. I longed for perfect happiness that I was certain could only be granted by the man at the pulpit. I gazed upon his beautiful face with tears pouring down my cheeks and when he called me to him, I felt his pull on me like he had thrown me a life preserver and was reeling me out of a tumultuous sea. I went to him willingly, gratefully.
I was a few precious feet from him with the press of bodies all around me, smothering me with their rancid heat and the careless prodding of their fingertips. One woman growled jealously and poked me hard in the ribs with her knuckles. The pain brought me to myself a bit, so that I was aware of the unnatural sway upon me. I blinked against tears that filled my stinging eyes, and I saw Ryerson laughing as he knelt down to touch those reaching hands stretched out to him.
Suddenly, I was at the front of the pressing group and staring straight into Ryerson’s face. His broad smile faltered and his eyes narrowed. Then his face did something strange. His eyes flashed with a strange light, just over his pupils, and something almost like a shadow passed over his features and made his skull bones appear more prominent. A grotesque snarl came and went so fast I almost didn’t register it and then he seized