The Six Messiahs - Mark Frost [159]
"To serve God, Miss Temple," said the Reverend modestly. "And his son and Savior, Jesus Christ. As should we all. I'm sorry, weren't you given a copy of our flier? It contains all the basic information one should know about us. We hand one out to each of our visitors when they arrive."
He wants me to look at him, realized Eileen; he wants me to and I mustn't; I can feel his mind scratching at me like a spider trying to find a way to crawl inside my head.
"Forgive me for making the observation," said Jacob, keenly aware of her distress, trying to pull the man's attention off her, "but it seemed to me your flier was more concerned with the many things one shouldn't do."
Day turned slowly back to Jacob; his look hardened, just short of anger. "You might recall, sir, that even God gave us his thou-shalt-nots."
Doesn't like to be contradicted, thought Jacob. Certainly he's not used to anyone taking exception with him—and with eyes like those in his head, who in his right mind would want to? Well, go ahead and do your worst to an old man, you monster, but harm a hair on this woman's head and I'll make you regret the day you were born.
"Only ten of them," said Jacob. "You've got fifty."
"Strict obedience to God's will is a difficult and challenging path for any man to follow," said Day. "We make no claims of perfection, Mr. Stern, we merely strive for it."
"The world would applaud you for it. Why hide yourself away like this?"
"The world... is a wicked place, as I am sure in your travels you have not failed to notice. Our hope is to build a better world for ourselves within the confines of our City. That's why I call my home the House of Hope. And we expect visitors to respect our efforts, and our values, even if they don't necessarily agree with them."
"Respect, certainly," said Jacob.
Don't provoke him, Jacob; ease up.
The Reverend's eyes stayed fixed on Jacob, kindling a realization and deeper interest. "Are you by any chance a man of God yourself, Mr. Stern?"
Jacob's eyes met Eileen's briefly; now she was trying to warn him off.
"You might say so," said Jacob. "I'm a rabbi."
"Of course, now it makes sense to me," said Reverend Day. "We have more than a few of your Israelite brethren among our number here, along with all the other failed faiths—converted, of course, to our way—but at one time sharing your beliefs."
"Win a few, lose a few," said Jacob, with a shrug.
The Reverend smiled patiently. "I would not wish to impose upon my guests the rigor of a theological debate, but perhaps you would care to sit with me, tomorrow, Rabbi Jacob Stern, and discuss our ... differences."
"I welcome the opportunity, Reverend. But I must warn you that converting to Judaism is a very serious undertaking."
"In the service of God's Holy Work," said Day with a smile, "that is a risk one must always be willing to embrace."
Reverend Day turned back to Bendigo Rymer, who had been sitting motionless throughout and who now, blinking his eyes rapidly, appeared to emerge from a deep hypnotic trance.
"I trust you found our humble theater to your liking, Mr. Rymer," said Day, rising to his feet.
"Yes; wonderful, sir," said Rymer, deeply moved by the man's solicitude. "Marvelous facilities; thank you ever so much."
"Splendid. I cannot tell you how greatly we look forward to your performance tomorrow night," said Day.
Reverend Day bowed stiffly and quickly left the room. Jacob put a hand to his forehead, trying to contain the throbbing pain that suddenly collected there; Eileen moved to him in concern.
The rest of the Players, who felt as if they'd been holding their breath for an hour, let out a collective sigh of relief.
Walks Alone knocked softly on the train compartment door. No answer. She reached to knock again, and Jack Sparks threw open the door, a pistol in his hand, furious at the intrusion. She remained calm and waited for him to speak.
"What do you want?"
"May I come in?" she asked.
"Why?"
She