The Six Messiahs - Mark Frost [194]
He remembered he was on the floor, cold stone beneath him, hands and feet numb from the constrictions of the rope. When consciousness had first returned and Jacob found himself still breathing, he couldn't have been more surprised; surely the
Reverend must have killed him by now. Maybe he had. Maybe this was proof of an afterlife. If so, you'd think they could afford some lights over here.
Considering how lousy I feel, thought Jacob when he realized he was alive, I might as well be dead. But if this is Reverend Day I hear coming, maybe I won't have long to wait.
The shuffling footsteps; spurs jingling.
Yes, it was him.
Reverend Day entered the chamber, and by the light of his lantern for the first time Jacob saw the round room where he had been lying. In a slight depression scooped from the center of a round pattern, a detailed mosaic of some kind, set in the stone floor. Arrayed around him at the edge of the circle, he counted six silver pedestals. A squat coal-burning brazier stood off to one side. The cold wind he had felt issued from a rough gaping hole in the earth at the end of the room opposite the maze; a wide trough cut iri the floor ran down to the lip of the hole from the hollow where he lay. Set in the ceiling above him, he saw a tight circle of grills that looked like manhole covers; the spectral voices he had heard were issuing from there.
The Reverend hobbled around the room, lighting a series of lanterns on the walls from the one he carried. He moved to Jacob, stood over and studied him a moment; when Jacob didn't move, the Reverend nudged him with the toe of a boot.
"I'm awake," said Jacob.
"Really? I would have settled for alive; awake is something of a bonus. I was afraid you might miss all the fun."
Jacob kept silent.
"I know how extraordinarily conversant you are with your Torah, Rabbi; how are you with Scripture?"
"Forgive me, I—"
"The Book of Revelation, for example."
Jacob's heart skipped a beat; he tried to adjust his position to jar it back into rhythm, and in doing so for the first time since the man entered, he caught a glimpse of the Reverend's face.
Good God. He looks worse than I feel. Like an exhumed corpse.
Caked blood encrusted his face, which had gone whiter than ivory. Blood vessels rimming his forehead undulated as if they had come to life and broken free of their moorings. His eyes looked as red and savage as raw meat.
"Let me refresh your memory," said the Reverend. " 'The blood of the innocent shall rain down into the wound that hath opened in the earth and the Beast shall ascend, which is the angel of the bottomless pit, whose name in the Hebrew tongue is Abaddon. And he shall make war against them and overcome them and kill them.' Ring any bells for you, does it, Rabbi?"
Jacob shook his head.
"Oh, it will," said Reverend Day, craning his neck to look at the grills overhead. "When the bells start to ring again and the Holy Work begins."
Dante saw a shadow creep across the wall outside the door; he stood up, holding his knives, ready to pounce. The door pushed open; Frederick. Dante relaxed, then saw the terrible look on Frederick's face.
"Is he in there?" asked Frederick, pointing toward the maze.
Dante nodded.
"Then we'll never find him." He looked furious, more agitated than Dante had ever seen him.
"Do you have the book?" asked Dante.
"No. Here is our situation, Mr. Scruggs: There is no more time and the Reverend has defaulted on what is owed to me, an enormous sum, and there is no money"—Frederick's face contorted in a spasm of rage—"anywhere in the town that I can find. Giving our lives without recompense is not part of my arrangement. Do you understand? No further service is required here; I am taking my leave. If you want to live, I suggest you do the same."
Dante looked toward the hall, thought