P. Cast: Revealed

Then I faced Detective Marx. “I’m ready to go with you.”

He glanced from me to Thanatos. “I’ll wait for you to contact the High Council and abrogate their legal claim to responsibility for this fledging so that I can take her into custody.”

“No,” I said. “Before this happened I had broken from the High Council. I don’t recognize their jurisdiction over me. I don’t recognize Thanatos’s jurisdiction over me. Treat me the same way you would anyone else who has confessed to being a murderer.”

He sighed deeply and then pulled the handcuffs from his back pocket. “Zoey Redbird, you are under arrest for the murders of Richard Williams and David Brown.” He closed the cold cuffs around my wrists. “You have the right to remain silent. Should you give up that right, anything you say can and will be used against you. You have the right to have an attorney present at your questioning. Should you not be able to afford one, an attorney will be appointed for you. Do you understand your rights?”

“Yes. I don’t need an attorney. I confess that I killed those two men. I deserve to go to jail,” I said as I deserve this … I deserve this … echoed through my mind.

Neferet

When she was finally ready to emerge from the den, rain bathed Neferet, cleansing her of the blood and dirt in which she had been clothed. The area was in utter chaos. Despite the rain, a fire raged in the park above her.

Neferet thought it was a delightful greeting.

She fed off the death and destruction around her, and used the energy she gleaned to conceal herself.

Her auburn hair was slick against her body, like a living cloak. Neferet’s faithful threads, sated and pulsing with power, lifted her. As if she had commanded a thundercloud to do her bidding, Neferet floated from the park within a veil of thunder and lightning, mist and madness.

She threw her head back, loving the caress of the rain as it slid down her bare skin, cleansing her. Her arms lifted, and tendrils of Darkness wrapped around them. She laughed at their cold, wicked touch.

“Let us go home. We have so very much to do!” Moving through Midtown, the storm that was Neferet drifted toward downtown Tulsa and the penthouse she had made her own at the Mayo.

“Ah, but not so quickly,” she purred to the Darkness that cradled her. “Shall we not go to dinner? I find that I am simply starving!”

The threads of Darkness quivered with excitement, impatiently awaiting her command.

Neferet reached out with her mind. Seeking … seeking … perverting the gift she had been given so many decades ago.

She followed Fifteenth Street to the west, still seeking. It was at Boston Avenue that she felt the pull to the north.

“True north! And all of those delicious souls pretending to be so very, very good!” Neferet shivered in pleasure. “All gathered together so very, very conveniently for me. It is as if they already knew to worship me.” She made a sweeping gesture to her right. “Take me there!”

When she reached the cathedral Neferet commanded the threads to pause—to allow her to take in the perfection of her choice. The building was truly magnificent. It glistened in the rain. The upward spires of the main tower looked like teeth. The smaller spires appeared to be upraised hands, sharp with talons, their metal surface slick and wet and ready for her to ravage.

“Release me! Allow me to be seen!”

The cloud of magick dissipated. Neferet settled silently to the pavement. “Come with me, my darlings,” she told her threads. “Our fast is over. Let us gorge ourselves as I deserve!”

Neferet climbed the many limestone stairs as Darkness, like the train of a queen’s coronation mantle, flowed behind her. She glanced up. Statues jutting from the outer wall were golden gods astride rain-washed chargers. They seemed to bid her welcome.

Below them, carved over the three-peaked doorways, were men bowing.

“To me.” She spoke to the silent statues. “You bow to me.” Staring up, Neferet read the words written beneath each of the three groups of worshipping statues: THE FRUIT OF THE SPIRIT IS LOVE, JOY; PEACE, LONG-SUFFERING, KINDNESS, GOODNESS; FAITHFULNESS, MEEKNESS, SELF-CONTROL.

Neferet laughed. “This is going to be easier than I imagined.”

Naked, Neferet entered the church, choosing the door that held the word LONG-SUFFERING. Within, the walls were painted a muted pink that reminded her of blood diluted by a wash of tears. She thought it a perfect color. Turning to her left, she followed a curving hall until she came to the main entrance of the sanctuary. The doors were closed. Neferet smiled fondly at her threads of Darkness. “Yes, do please open them.”

The threads obeyed her.

Neferet stepped within the large, oval room. A hymn was just in its last few notes, and as they drew out the aaaamen, Neferet took the opportunity to appreciate the setting before she was noticed. It really was a lovely sanctuary. Though with the pale violet velvet cushioned seats and the art deco stylized stained glass windows decorated in colors of blush and lilac, she thought that it looked more like one of the ornate theaters that so proliferated in America at the turn of the last century than a church. Its round, tiered seating tapering down to a central stage was obviously created more for drama than worship.

Neferet smiled, enjoying the irony.

“Psst!” A whisper came from the shadows at the back of the room as the pastor began to lead the congregation in a tediously repetitive prayer. “Excuse me. Do you need help?” A thick, middle-aged woman approached Neferet. She was so entranced by Neferet’s naked body, that she hadn’t even glanced at her tattoos.

Neferet turned to her. “Yes, I do.” Neferet held open her arms, as if she wanted the woman to embrace her. Blinking in confusion, the woman stepped closer to her. Neferet struck with blinding speed, ripping her talon-like fingernails across her throat, and catching the woman as she collapsed forward. Neferet did embrace her then, but the kiss she shared with the woman was pressed to the bleeding gash of her throat. Neferet drained her body as she fed from her energy.

Someone in the rear of the congregation screamed.

Neferet looked up as the people turned to her. She released the woman. Her body fell to the floor with a satisfyingly final thud.

Lifting her chin, Neferet swept her hair back and strode forward to stand within the sanctuary.

“Oh my god! It’s a vampyre!”

“She’s naked!”

“She just killed Mrs. Peterson!”

People began screaming. Some even started to flee their pews.

Neferet lifted her arms. “Seal the doors! And reveal yourselves to them!”

The shadows around Neferet rippled as the thick snake-like tendrils took a form humans could see. The congregation paused, staring in horror, as they slithered to each of the doors and, web-like, sealed them from within.

“What is it you want?” A white haired man wearing a black robe trimmed in scarlet velvet strode from the pulpit toward her.

“I am Neferet,” she said cordially. “And you are?”

“I am Dr. Andrew Mullins, pastor of Boston Avenue Church. What is the meaning of this violation?”

“Violation?” Neferet smiled. “Oh, I have barely begun violating. This”—she waved her blood-soaked fingers at the woman’s body—“was not even an appropriate appetizer.”

“With the power invested in me through our Lord and Savior, I demand you leave this holy place and harm no one else!”

“Pastor Mullins, even though I don’t look it, I am quite a bit older than you, so let me share with you a little something I’ve learned over my many years: real power trumps invested power every time. So, I do believe I’ll use my real power and choose not to leave.”