Reborn

3

"It's all beginning to make sense to me now," Mr. Veilleur said as Grace watched him pick up the plaque shards.

"Good for you," Martin said sourly. "It has been perfectly clear to us for many weeks now."

"Easy, Martin," Brother Robert said. "A little more tolerance. Remember, faith is a gift."

"Has it really been all that clear to you?" Mr. Veilleur said to Martin. There was no amused smile playing about his lips now. He looked positively grim.

"Of course. The Antichrist is coming and—"

"Can we dispense with the Judeo-Christian mythology for a while? It only muddies the water."

"Mythology?" Martin said, huffing and drawing himself up. "You are talking about the Word of God!"

"Let's just use a neutral term, shall we? I can't have a serious discussion if we're going to talk about 'the Antichrist. ' How does 'the Presence' sound to you?"

"Absolutely not!"

"Oh, come, Martin," Grace said. "That sounds pretty neutral to me. What can it hurt?"

Grace sensed that Martin was as interested as she was in what Mr. Veilleur had to say but that he didn't want to admit it.

Martin glanced at Brother Robert, who nodded.

"It's all right, Martin," he said slowly.

Martin turned to Mr. Veilleur. "Okay. But just remember that—"

"Fine," Mr. Veilleur said. "Now tell me, all of you: When did you get your first inkling of the Presence?"

"I'm not sure," Brother Robert said. "It was all so vague at first. Early February, I'd say."

Martin agreed, nodding vigorously. "Definitely."

"How about the speaking in tongues?"

"Oh, that's been happening since we first began meeting last year. It's common in Pentecostal groups."

"I mean the special tongue, the one Grace used when she spoke to me that night at the meeting."

Grace shivered at the memory. "The one you called the Old Tongue?"

He nodded but kept his eyes fixed on Martin. "Yes. When did you first hear that?"

"That I can tell you. It was shortly before Brother Robert arrived. I remember it because it was so remarkable. Everyone who spoke in tongues that night spoke in the same language. It was Septuagesima Sunday—February eleventh."

"Interesting," Mr. Veilleur said. "That was the night Dr. Hanley's plane crashed."

"Do you think there's a connection?" Grace asked.

"Think about it," the older man said. "That seems to be the event that set all the other events in motion. Of course, there was another event that might have preceded the crash."

"What?" Grace said simultaneously .with Brother Robert and Martin.

"The conception of the Stevens baby."

Grace felt as if all of her blood had drained out in a rush. The words seemed to crystallize an idea in her mind. It was only partially formed now, but it was growing.

"Why would that—?"

"Consider the sequence of events. Hanley's death made James Stevens a rich man. James Stevens's death makes his wife a rich woman and guarantees that their child will be raised in an atmosphere of financial power, leaving only one person between the child and control of the Hanley millions. Doesn't it all strike you as a little too convenient?"

"The child!" Brother Robert whispered. "Of course! The child is the Antichrist!" His eyes were bright with wonder. "It's so obvious now! Satan used Stevens's soulless body as a conduit through which he could invade this sphere by entering a woman and becoming human flesh! Evil incarnate!"

"You're partly correct," Mr. Veilleur said with a sigh. "But the Presence has been in 'this sphere,' as you put it, much longer than a month."

"How do you know so much?" Martin said.

Really, Grace thought, he's acting very childish.

"You wouldn't understand. You wouldn't want to understand. Let's leave it at that, shall we?"

"Tell me, please," Brother Robert said. "When do you think the Presence entered the clone's body?"

"In May of 1941, I believe. Shortly after James Stevens was conceived. Perhaps there is something to this business of the soul, after all. It's very possible that James Stevens, being a clone, never had one. That being the case, the Presence probably thought he had found the perfect vehicle for himself. But instead he wound up trapped. And he remained trapped inside James Stevens's body—impotent, ineffectual, raging— for over a quarter of a century. Until—"

"Until Carol conceived Jim's child!" Grace blurted.

"Exactly. Whatever powers the Presence possesses were blocked while it inhabited James. It remained viable but… disconnected, so to speak. A larva locked in a living chrysalis. But when James Stevens fathered a child, the Presence broke free of him and 'became flesh,' as Martin might say."

"You mean it's taken over Carol's child?" Grace said. The thought horrified her.

"No," Mr. Veilleur said with a slow shake of his head. "It is the child. From the moment of conception its powers have begun to grow. That is the wrongness you've sensed in the world for the past month or so. It is the Presence, maturing within Carol Stevens, growing stronger with each passing day."

"This sounds like Rosemary's Baby," Grace said.

Martin said, "God works in subtle and mysterious ways. Perhaps He inspired that author to write such a book; perhaps He made it a best-seller as a warning to us all!"

Grace was dubious. "God works through The New York Times best-seller list?"

"His hand is everywhere!" Martin leapt to his feet. "And even now the Antichrist is growing within the clone's wife. That explains why we sensed no diminution of the evil when the clone died."

"Stop calling him that!" Grace said, her growing resentment of Martin's callousness finally reaching the breaking point. "He was my niece's husband. He had a name. And we are responsible for his death!"

"That was an accident!"

"An accident that proved very convenient for the Presence," Mr. Veilleur said.

Martin looked shocked for a moment. He made no reply.

"I fear Mr. Veilleur may have a point," Brother Robert said. "And speaking of names, don't you have one for this Presence, as you call it?"

"Actually it's a him, and he has many names, none of which you've ever heard, so they would mean nothing to you."

"How about 'Satan'?" Brother Robert said.

"Satan? Forget Satan! Something evil is coming—you're right about that—but it's not your Satan. Something far worse is on the way, something beyond your worst nightmares. The Antichrist? If only it were! When it gets here, you'll long for your Antichrist. Because prayers won't help you. Neither will guns or bombs."

The utter conviction in Mr. Veilleur's voice drove a shaft of terror through Grace's soul.

"How… how do you know so much about him?"

Mr. Veilleur gazed out the window as a stray cloud passed across the sun.

"We've met before."