Down Among the Dead Men

85

Despite all of Rafael’s talk and all of his revelations about Peter and Jen and Marta and their sordid little orgy in the name of God and La Santisima, Beth still had a giant blank spot where the last ten months should have been.

Still working at the rope, she asked, “What happened after Playa Azul? Where did you take us?”

“I already told you. Home.”

“Ciudad de Almas?”

Rafael nodded.

“That’s your home, not mine.”

“ Si, but you came to accept it. You were quite a handful in the beginning, but like a wild mare, with time and patience you were tamed. You learned to laugh with us, pray with us…and share your flesh with us.”

The ball of bile in Beth’s throat grew hotter, acidy. She really was going to throw up.

But she didn’t buy this for a minute. No way she’d ever let these sickos get control of her like that. She was a fighter. Always had been.

But she also knew about the techniques religious cults used on their victims. She’d once prosecuted a sweet, elderly “Christian” couple for imprisoning several teenage runaways and subjecting them to starvation and sleep deprivation and sexual depravity, all the while praying for their salvation.

The kids had resisted at first but had finally broken. And the abuse might have gone on forever if a suspicious neighbor hadn’t called the police.

Beth was no teenager, but could she have been broken, too?

“What about Jen?” she asked. “You still haven’t told me what happened to her.”

“Jennifer was quite another story,” Rafael said. “She all but ran into our arms. But there were some complications in the beginning. She needed a bit of chemical persuasion. To show her the light, so to speak. But she came around quickly. And she and Marta have grown quite close.”

Beth felt a spark of relief. “She’s alive?”

“Alive and well and thriving in our community.”

Thank God, Beth thought. Thank God. “And what about the baby? What about Andy?”

“A beautiful, healthy boy. Probably in his mother’s arms as we speak.” Rafael glanced back at her. “You should be proud of your sister, Beth. She was instrumental in getting you to accept your destiny.”

Beth frowned. “Which destiny is that?”

“The only one you have. She convinced you that the way to true glory was to offer yourself to La Santisima unconditionally, and to accept me as your master.”

“My what?”

Rafael paused again. In a way he reminded her of Dr. Stanley-eternally patient as he explained the facts of life to the girl with the battered brainpan.

“We have simple beliefs, Beth. The women in our family always serve at the pleasure of their men and their God.”

“Whether they like it or not.”

She kept working at the rope and felt it loosen slightly. Not enough, but it was a start.

“If my visit to Los Angeles these last few days is any indication, they like it quite a bit.”

“Oh? And what about Marta?”

“What about her?”

“She didn’t strike me as particularly subservient. From what I could tell on board that ship, she seemed to be running the show.”

“Marta is an exception. She is a bruja, and the direct descendant of El Santo.”

“How nice for her. But you’re not fooling me, you know.”

“Fooling you?”

“There’s no way Jen would voluntarily be part of this psycho-spiritual bullshit.”

“Perhaps you know your sister as well as you know your ex-husband.”

“Fuck you,” Beth said.

“Your anger is understandable. But before tomorrow night is over, you will see just how dedicated to La Santisima your sister is.”

Beth didn’t like the sound of that. “What are you saying?”

“As I told you, we have simple beliefs. And we practice those beliefs through certain rituals. Tomorrow we begin celebrating Dia de los Muertos. And at the mark of midnight, Jennifer will offer herself and her child in sacrifice to Holy Death.”

Beth hadn’t heard him right. She couldn’t have. “What the hell did you just say?”

“You should be thanking me, Beth. Instead of putting a pillow over your face, I am bringing you to bear witness to one of the most glorious sights you will ever see.”

He turned, smiling at her.

“And with El Santo’s approval,” he said, “I think you should light the torch.”