Inferno by Cara Bristol

 

Chapter One

 

Shaking like a leaf, Geneva hugged herself, rocking in a soothing motion while keeping an ear cocked in case he broke in. She peered over her shoulder at the solid oak doors in the vestibule. The wooden door was stout, but the lock was flimsy. One firm kick, and it would give way.

As if a locked door could prevent a demon from getting in. Ft. Knox couldn’t keep out Lucifer’s spawn if he wanted in.

She hugged herself harder.

He wasn’t real. He couldn’t be. Demons did not waltz into churches in Argent, Idaho USA in the 21st century. First of all, Satan did not exist. He was at best (or worst), a metaphor. When you accepted that God didn’t exist, all the threatening bad stuff went away, too. No God. No Satan. No hell. A lifelong atheist, she believed that absolutely.

She shuddered.

“My genmate, I’ve come for you,” he’d intoned in his sinful, seductive voice. As her mind and psyche reacted with horror, her body had responded to the deep rumble with a surge of arousal.

Folklore depicted the devil as both a hooved and horned red-skinned monster and a handsome man. The guy—and despite her shattered emotions, common sense insisted it had been a flesh-and-blood guy—had personified both of those. His face had been ruddy, and curved bony protrusions had jutted out of his skull like horns, but he had to be the most fiendishly attractive man she’d ever seen. Tall, masculine. Black hair, dark, piercing eyes, sensual full lips, and the kind of white-white perfect teeth you saw in toothpaste commercials.

Get a grip. He was just a guy. An extraordinarily handsome but ordinary guy. Who had horns and a tail.

She stared at the pages scattered across the oaken floor of the nave. The aged hymnals had broken apart when she’d thrown them at him. When he’d slunk away, she’d caught sight of a tail snaking out from under his black shirt. No demon worth his brimstone would retreat because a human ordered him to go.

But she hadn’t imagined the horns and tail. Costume? Halloween was months away, so maybe he was an actor with the Lake City Playhouse in Coeur d’Alene?

That could be it! She brightened.

Maybe he’s an alien. She snorted at her own joke. The nice, but gullible, citizens of Argent claimed to have spotted extraterrestrials cavorting around town. She had no problem with the concept of life on other planets—single-celled and simple organisms. Possibly intelligent life. However, the notion that humanoid aliens had arrived on Earth, and, of all the places they could have settled, had chosen Argent, Idaho, population 500, pushed the envelope of possibility beyond any credibility.

And if aliens had come to Argent, well, she’d lived here two years since the divorce from Trenton, and she hadn’t ever encountered one.

Unless I did today. She peered up at the stained glass windows depicting Biblical scenes. The chances of an alien encounter were about the same as the devil sauntering in. Zippo. Neither existed. If she’d overreacted out of surprise, blame it on enculturation. Archetypes and religious lore were so pervasive, the concepts became engrained; you couldn’t not be affected.

Fact: even atheists exclaimed, “Oh God,” while having sex.

If not an amateur actor, perhaps he’d been born with a birth defect. She hoped for the former. To have yelled “get back, Satan” at a guy with an unfortunate congenital defect would be horrible. Mocked any people in wheelchairs lately?

She blew out a huff of air and pressed her hands to her hot cheeks. What would she say if she encountered him again? Gee, I’m so sorry I acted like a total nutcase? She owed him a big apology, but she cringed with embarrassment at the possibility of seeing him again.

She slipped off the pew to collect the scattered, yellowed pages of the hymnal. She’d ordered new songbooks to replace the ones that had been around since her uncle became pastor thirty years ago. Of course, throwing the distressed, disintegrating hymnals didn’t help.

After depositing the pages in the trash, she retreated to her tiny office. She had planned to grab a burger from Millie’s Diner, but wouldn’t it be her luck to run into the horned stranger? Better to lie low for a while. Her appetite had vanished anyway, but, if she got hungry, she could eat one of the emergency candy bars stashed in her desk.

* * * *

Her back to the door, she reached for an ink cartridge on the shelf.

“Geneva?”

She squealed and jumped three feet. She turned around to face the door.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you.” Uncle Mike peered over the rims of his bifocals set low on his nose.

“It’s okay.” She palmed her racing heart and forced a smile of calm. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Any reason why the front door was locked?” They kept the church open for anyone seeking refuge or a quiet place to pray.

Must be something wrong with the locking mechanism. The fib hovered on the tip of her tongue, butshe couldn’t lie to him. She might withhold a few facts—he had no idea she didn’t share his faith—but she couldn’t tell him an outright falsehood. Her widowed pastor uncle was like a second dad, and he’d provided her with a job and a haven when her marriage had fallen apart.

“A man came in, a stranger, and I got a little scared, so I, uh, locked the door. I forgot to unlock it.”

Brows knit with concern. “Did he threaten you?”

“No, nothing like that. I…overreacted. He didn’t do anything or say anything threatening.”

“What did he look like?”

She hesitated. Even a religious man might question her sanity when she described what she’d seen. “He was very tall, short black hair. Near-black eyes. He wore black clothes…and he carried a Saints ball cap…” She could appreciate the irony of the latter. She wet her lips. “He had horns.”

“What do you mean?”

She put forefingers to her head. “Horns.”

“His hair stuck up?”

“Could have been…” she prevaricated. It hadn’t been. The man had had horns. And a tail.

Gray brows arched. “Could have been?”

“I mean, yeah.” What good would it do to tell him the truth? You had to see it to believe it, and even then, it boggled the mind.

“What did he say?”

“Nothing.” She shrugged, wishing this conversation had never started. It wasn’t just embarrassment. For reasons she couldn’t pinpoint, she felt reluctant to discuss what had happened.

My genmate. I’ve come for you. What had he meant by that? She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about what he’d said, his unusual physical features, his attractiveness, how his rumbling voice had stirred her libido. How crushed he’d looked when she’d ordered him out of the church.

“Then what scared you?”

“I guess…” She twisted her hands. “The man acted like he knew me, but I’d never seen him before.” Unless you counted all the religious depictions of Lucifer. “I was alone, and it weirded me out a little.”

“You should have called me! Maybe we should contact the sheriff’s department.”

“No, no. No need to do that. You’re back earlier than I expected. Everything go okay at the hospital with Mrs. Peterson?” She changed the subject to the parishioner who’d had a hip replaced.

He twisted his mouth wryly. “They had discharged her earlier this morning, so after a quick chat with the hospital chaplain, I left.”

“Oh, well, I’m glad everything went okay.” She smoothed her hands down her sides. “I, uh, finished the bulletin and emailed it to you. The programs for tomorrow’s service are printed and folded.” She pointed to the stack of papers on the credenza. “If there’s nothing else you need me to do, would it be okay if I left early?”

“Of course!” Bushy gray brows drew close in a worried frown. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m good.” She faked a wide smile. “Just got a few things to take care of.” She grabbed her purse from the bottom drawer. “I’m fine.” She hugged him and kissed his cheek.

The phone rang, and she turned to answer it.

“I’ll get it. You go on.” He picked up the receiver. “Church of Argent. This is Pastor Mike…hello?” He shrugged and hung up. “Must have been a wrong number. Bird on a wire.” He shooed her away. “Go now. Take the afternoon off.”

She dug her car keys out and exited through the front entrance. Halfway across the parking lot, the hairs on her nape stood up, and the skin between her shoulder blades prickled. She spun around, expecting to see the man in black, but the parking lot was empty.

I’m getting jumpy after what happened. Argent is one of the safest places to live in the entire state.

But the feeling of being watched persisted, and she scurried to her car and locked the doors.