Dean Koontz - The Servants of Twilight

"And what's that?"

He hesitated. Then: "They intend to kill him."

"The Antichrist?"

"Yes."

"Just like that?"

"I don't imagine they think it'll be easy."

"I should say not!" Christine said, smiling in spite of the situation."

What kind of devil would allow himself to be killed with ease? Anyway, the logic's inconsistent. The Antichrist would be a supernatural figure. Supematural beings can't be killed."

"I know that Roman Catholicism has a tradition of justifying points of doctrine through logical processes," Charlie said." St.

Thomas Aquinas and his writings, for instance. But these people we're dealing with are fringe types. Fanatics. Consistency of logic isn't something religious fanatics require of one another."

He sighed." Anyway, assuming that you believe in all this mythology as presented by the Bible-and as interpreted by Gracemaybe it isn't such lousy logic. After all, Jesus was supposed to have been a supernatural being, the son of God, yet He was killed by the Romans."

"That's different," she said." According to the Christ story, that was His mission, His purpose, His destiny-to allow Himself to be killed to save us from the worst consequences of our sins. Right? But I hardly think the Antichrist would be as altruistic."

"You're thinking logically again. If you want to understand Grace and the Church of the Twilight, you've got to put logic behind you."

" Okay. So who does she say is the Antichrist?"

"When we pulled those two little kids out of the cult," Charlie said,

"Grace still hadn't identified the Antichrist. She hadn't found him yet. But now I think perhaps she has."

"So? Who?" Christine asked, but before Charlie could respond, the answer hit her with the force of a sledgehammer blow.

Up front, Joey was still talking with Pete Lockbum, oblivious of the conversation between his mother and Charlie Harrison.

Nevertheless, Christine lowered her voice to a whisper." Joey?

My God, does that crazy woman think my little boy is the Antichrist? "

"I'd almost bet on it."

Christine could hear the old woman's hate-filled voice, rising from a dark pool of memory: He's got to die; he I got to die.

"But why him? Why Joey? Why didn't she fixate on some other child?"

"Maybe it's like you said: You were just at the wrong place at the wrong time," Charlie said." If some other woman with another child had been in the South Coast Plaza parking lot at that same time last Sunday, Grace would now be after another little boy instead of Joey."

Christine knew that he was probably right, but the thought dizzied her.

It was a stupid, cruel, malignant lunacy. What kind of world were they living in if an innocent shopping trip to the mall made them eligible for martyrdom?

"But. how do we ever stop her?" Christine asked.

"If she actually resorts to violence, we deflect it. If we can't deflect it, then. well, we blow her people away before they touch Joey. There's no question of legal responsibility. You've hired us to protect you, and we have legal sanction to resort to violent force, if that's necessary and unavoidable, to fulfill our obligation."

"No. I mean. how do we change her mind? How dd we get her to admit that Joey's just a little boy? How do we get her to go away?"

"I don't know. I would imagine a fanatic like this is about as single-minded as anyone can be. I don't think it would be easy to make her change her mind about anything, let alone anything as important to her as this."

"But you said she's got a thousand followers."

"Maybe even a few more than that by now."

"If she keeps sending them after Joey, we can't kill them all.

Sooner or later, one of them will get through our defenses."

"I'm not going to let this drag on," he assured her." I'm not going to give them a lot of chances to hurt Joey. I'll make Grace change her mind, back off, go away."

" How? "

"I don't know yet."

An image of the harpy in the parking lot returned to Christine-the windblown hair, the bulging eyes, the lint-specked and food-stained clothes-and she felt despair clutching at her.

"There's no way to change her mind."

"There's a way," Charlie insisted." I'll find it."

"She'll never stop."

"I have an appointment with an excellent psychologist in the morning.

Dr. Denton Boothe. He's especially interested in cult psychology. I'm going to discuss the case with him, give him our profile on Grace, ask him to work with us to find her weak spot.”

Christine didn't see much promise in that approach. But then she didn't see much promise in any approach.

Charlie took her hand as the car sped through the windy darkness." I won't let you down."

But for the first time she wondered if his promises were empty.

On the second floor of the empty house, O'Hara and Baumberg stood by the windows in the large master bedroom.

They still felt the menacing presence of an evil entity watching over them. They tried to ignore it, holding steadfast to their faith and to their determination to complete the task Mother Grace had given them.

Outside, the rear yard lay in darkness, scoured by a rising wind. From up here they could see into the swimming pool. No beast crouched within that concrete concavity. Not now. Now it was in the house with them.

Beyond this property was another Iawn and another house, a sprawling, one-story, ranch-style place with a shake-shingle roof and a swimming pool of its own. The pool held water and was lit from the bottom, a glimmering blue-green jewel in the shape of a kidney.

O'Hara had taken a pair of night binoculars from the flight bag at his feet. They made use of available light to produce an enhanced image of a dark landscape. Through them, he had a pretty good view of all the properties that butted up against the rear of the lots along this street. Those houses faced out onto another street, parallel to this one.

" Which is the Scavello place?" Baumberg asked.

O'Hara slowly turned to his right, looking farther north." Not the house behind this one. The next one, with the rectangular pool and the swings."

"I don't see any swings," Baumberg said.

O'Hara handed him the binoculars." To the left of the pool.

A child's swing set and a jungle gym."

"Just two doors away," Baumberg said.

"Yeah."

"No lights on."

"They aren't home yet."

"Maybe they won't come home."

"They'll come," O'Hara said.

"If they don't?"

"We'll go looking for them."

"Where'?"

"Wherever God sends us."

Baumberg nodded.

O'Hara opened one of the laundry bags and withdrew a shotgun.

As they turned into Christine's block and came within sight of her house, Charlie said, "See that camper?"

Across the street, a pickup truck was parked at the curb. A camper shell was attached to the bed of the truck. It was just an ordinary camper; she had noticed it but hadn't given it a second thought.

Suddenly it seemed sinister.

"Is that them, too?" she asked.

"No. That's us," Charlie said." I've got a man in there, keeping an eye on every vehicle that comes along the street. He's got a camera with infra-red film, so he can record license plate numbers even in the dark. He's also got a portable telephone, so he can call your place, the police, or get in touch with me in a hurry."

Pete Lockburn parked the green Chevy in front of the Scavello house, while Frank Reuther pulled Christine's Firebird into the driveway.

The white Ford van, which had been following them, passed by. They watched it in silence as its driver took it into the next block, found a parking space, and switched off its lights.

"Amateurs," Pete Lockburn said scornfully.