Alex Kava Bundle - Alex Kava [409]
He looked into her eyes, saw her smile and quickly looked away. Was that her secret weapon? If she couldn’t hypnotize him with her voice, would she use her eyes? He wondered how she might kill him, and his eyes scanned the length of her, looking for bulges in her clothing.
The guards would have allowed her in with anything she cared to conceal. They would want no part of the mess, even if they were able to stop her. After all, Father had told them the woman clothed with the sun had special powers, according to the gospel of John, St. John the Divine, Revelation 12:1–6. She was light. She was dark. She was good and evil. She was a messenger of Satan and could disguise herself easily.
Suddenly, Eric remembered a newspaper article Father had read them just months ago. No member was allowed newspapers or magazines. There was no need when Father took the burden upon himself to relay those news items that were relevant and from sources that could be trusted.
But now Eric remembered the story of a foreign diplomat who had been visiting the States from some evil empire. Eric couldn’t recall the country. The diplomat had been slain in his hotel bed and reports were that the woman who killed him did it while straddling him, waiting for him to come and then slitting his neck. Father Joseph had used it as an example of justice being done. Was that where he had gotten the idea of sending this woman?
Eric noticed her tapping the pencil, the eraser smacking the notepad—the notepad, a decoy left on the table, not a single note scrawled on it. The pencil had been freshly sharpened, its lead a dagger’s point. He could distinguish some of the words that came out of her mouth, words like help and cooperate. He knew better. He refused to be sucked in by her code words. They could just as well have been words like kill and mutilate. He knew their true meaning.
Tap-tap, tap-tap—he watched the pencil and tried to ignore the panic squeezing the air out of his lungs. The room felt smaller. Her voice droned on. Tap-tap, tap-tap. His heart pounded in his ears. Or was that the pencil?
He made himself look into her eyes. He had cheated Satan once before. Could he do it again?
CHAPTER 45
Gwen shifted in her chair and recrossed her legs. Pratt was watching her again, staring at her legs. The horny bastard wasn’t listening to a word she was saying. Had she misread his initial reaction, that look of absolute fear in his eyes when she entered the room? If it hadn’t been fear, what the hell had it been? Had she been wrong about him wanting to survive, wanting to find a safe haven?
He hadn’t answered a single one of her questions. Instead, he looked everywhere except into her eyes, as if she were Medusa and doing so would turn him to stone. Or did he simply hate psychologists? Maybe the kid was sick of shrinks or didn’t trust any authority figures. Yet deep down she wondered if the real reason for his distraction, for his avoidance, was because he was worried she wielded some sort of power he couldn’t stand up to.
If their theory was correct, Eric Pratt had been manipulated and controlled by someone other than himself for some time now. He had been a puppet willing to kill and be killed. Perhaps that someone—the Reverend Joseph Everett, most likely—still had a strong hold on him, despite Eric being locked away. But something had made the boy spit out that cyanide capsule. Self-preservation had won. She needed to follow her instinct. And she needed to believe his instinct to live was stronger than his fear of Everett.
“You are a survivor, Eric. That’s why you’re still here. I want to help you. Do you believe I can help you?”
She waited, tapping out her impatience with the pencil against her notepad. The kid seemed mesmerized by the motion. She tried to remember the reports she had glanced at, whether or not toxicology had shown any drug use.