All the Pretty Dead Girls Part 43

65.

Ginny was writing in her notebook about Sue's meeting with her mother when she heard the girl coming down the stairs. She placed the notebook into the top drawer of her desk, and got up to meet Sue in the hallway. Sue was dressed and showered, her face scrubbed, her hair combed. She looked so much better than she had last night.

"Did you sleep well?" Ginny asked.

"Mostly. But this morning I started dreaming."

Ginny touched Sue's cheek. "Would you like some breakfast? A cup of coffee?"

"Coffee would be good," Sue said, and they headed into the kitchen.

They sat at the table drinking the hot liquid in silence for a few moments.

"Well?" Sue asked. "Do you think I'm insane?"

"I wish it were that simple." Ginny wrapped her hands around her coffee mug. "Obviously, your story is pretty fantastic."

"That's an understatement."

"I believe something is happening, Sue. Right before I left Lebanon, I met with Father Ortiz-"

"The one who spoke to me at the diner."

Ginny nodded. "Yes. I didn't tell you last night that I knew him. And I know Bernadette deSalis. I've interviewed her."

"My mother was right," Sue said. "You do understand."

Ginny smiled. "Understand? Hardly. But I know there's some basis to your story. I've been trying to call Father Ortiz all morning. But all I get is his voice mail."

"Do you think he can help me?"

"I don't know, Sue. But remember what else your mother told you. You have free will. No one can force you to do anything."

Sue rubbed her forehead. "That doesn't change what I am."

"What you've been told told you are. I believe something is going on, something strange, but there's no proof that you're-" Ginny couldn't say the word. you are. I believe something is going on, something strange, but there's no proof that you're-" Ginny couldn't say the word.

"The Antichrist?" Sue looked at her. "But Bernadette told you about me, didn't she? I can see it in your mind, Dr. Marshall. She told you that the Antichrist was a woman."

Ginny sighed. "Yes. Yes, she did."

"And she told you more, too, didn't she? And Father Ortiz told you-"

"He told me the same thing your mother told you-that the true Book of Revelation has been kept a secret by the Vatican. He told me that there was a conspiracy to bring about the end times..."

Sue started softly crying. "It's true, Dr. Marshall. How can you believe otherwise? What's the point in pretending I'm not what they say I am?"

Ginny opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by a knock at the door. They both jumped. Ginny motioned for Sue to be quiet and stood to look outside. It was a tall old man with bright white hair in a tweed sport coat. With some reluctance, Ginny pulled open the door and peered outside, hoping Sue was out of sight in the kitchen.

"Yes?" she asked. "May I help you?"

"I've come for my granddaughter."

Ginny watched as the old man's lips tightened and twitched. His nostrils flared.

"You must be Mr. Barlow," she said.

"I know she's here, Dr. Marshall. That's her car out front."

"Yes, she's here. But she doesn't wish to see you."

"She's my granddaughter! I'm her legal guardian!"

Ginny stood her ground. "You seem to have forgotten she's eighteen years of age. A legal adult who can make her own decisions."

The old man's eyes were nearly apoplectic. His face was turning red.

"Let him in, Dr. Marshall," came Sue's voice behind her. "I'll see him."

Reluctantly, Ginny stepped aside. She took note of the big black car in her driveway, and the burly jumpsuited driver who was leaning against it, his ma.s.sive arms crossed over his chest.

Sue's grandfather now stood facing the girl in Ginny's living room.

"Come home with me, Sue," he said.

"Why? So you can tell me more lies?"

Ginny stood in the foyer watching the scene play out. Who was this man? Was he really in league with-the devil?

"We spared you the truth for your own good," he said.

"That's bulls.h.i.t, and you know it." Sue looked at the old man with sheer contempt. "I know everything. I know what you want of me."

"Has this woman been telling you lies?" Mr. Barlow asked.

"I've been to see my mother, your darling Mariclare," Sue said. "But then you probably know that, don't you?"

"I just know that your grandmother is very worried, and wants you home."

"You can't force me," Sue said.

Her grandfather leveled his eyes at her. "I think I can."

In an instant, the front door opened and the burly driver was on Ginny, his hairy arm around her neck, choking off her breath.

"Kill her," Mr. Barlow said calmly, his eyes still on his granddaughter.

"No!" Sue screamed. "Leave her alone!"

"Then come with me," her grandfather said.

Sue was silent, not moving.

Ginny's heart was racing in her ears. The driver shoved her into the living room, away from the door. He pushed her to the floor and stood over her, a semiautomatic pointed at her head.

"If I go with you," Sue said, "you'll just kill her anyway."

"She knows too much," Mr. Barlow said.

Sue walked across the room, seeming to contemplate what to do.

"I suppose you're right, Granpa," she said. And in the blink of an eye she withdrew the gun he'd given to her from her blouse and fired off one quick shot-right through the driver's head.

Ginny screamed. The burly man staggered, as if doing a macabre little dance. Blood and brain matter was still raining down onto the carpet. Then he toppled over. He would have hit Ginny if she didn't leap out of the way.

Mr. Barlow was stunned.

"I'm a pretty good shot," Sue said coolly. "You taught me well, Granpa."

"Apparently not well enough."

This was a new voice. They all turned to look. Striding in through the front door, apparently having been waiting in the car, was Joyce Davenport, complete with black miniskirt and boots.

"Maybe if you'd been more vigilant, she wouldn't have grown up to be such a rebel," Joyce said, casting an angry glance at Mr. Barlow. Then she smiled at Sue. "But you do have s.p.u.n.k, Sue. That's good. You'll need it." She laughed. "They always used to say I had s.p.u.n.k. Now they just call me a b.i.t.c.h."

Joyce noticed Ginny on the other side of the room.

"Ah, Dr. Marshall. We meet again. How nice to see you. How's your book coming?"

Ginny decided not to parry words with her. Somebody had already been shot in this room, and she didn't want to be the second.

"I'm not going with you," Sue told Joyce.

Joyce spun on her. "Sue, stop this nonsense! It's your destiny! Do you have any idea how much power awaits you?"

"I don't care!"

"h.e.l.l, Sue, I'd love love it if I were in your shoes!" She laughed. "I've certainly been called the Antichrist enough times by mealy-mouthed liberals! But I've just had to content myself with being the Anti-John the Baptist." She hooted again, seeming very pleased with her joke. it if I were in your shoes!" She laughed. "I've certainly been called the Antichrist enough times by mealy-mouthed liberals! But I've just had to content myself with being the Anti-John the Baptist." She hooted again, seeming very pleased with her joke.

Sue pointed the gun at her.

"Oh, please, you're not going to shoot me," Joyce said, waving a hand at her.

"Why shouldn't I?"

Joyce shrugged. "Because I know so many things you want to know. Admit it, Sue. This whole destiny thing...it kind of appeals to you. It kind of intrigues you.'

Ginny watched from a safe distance. She couldn't get to a phone to call the police, and if she tried to run, she was certain she'd be shot. Mr. Barlow was probably armed, and who knows what Sue would do...

"I want no part of it," Sue said.

Joyce laughed. "So you'll end up like your mother. Is that what you want? Do you think we'd just let you waltz off to do your own thing?" She took a step closer to Sue. "Do you think your father father would just let you go?" would just let you go?"

Sue made no answer. But the gun in her hand was now trembling.

"You'd end up crazy in some lunatic asylum like your mother. Is that what you want, Sue?"

"You put her there," Sue said. "You could have stopped what happened to her."

Joyce winced, but just slightly. Mariclare was right: she did feel some guilt. But not enough to stop her.

"It's your choice, Sue." She held out her hands as if they were balancing scales. "Crazy lunatic asylum...or untold power and glory. You decide."

"So many will hail you," Sue's grandfather told her.

"All those people who buy your books, who come to your readings," Sue said to Joyce. "All those people who get riled up by your rants and raves...they're all part of this...part of this cult?"

"We wish wish!" Joyce hooted. "Wouldn't that be amazing! But no, Sue. They're just sheep. I get them riled up. The televangelists get them riled up. They protest at gay weddings and blockade abortion clinics and hound illegal immigrants...They think they're doing G.o.d's work, but they're actually working for the Other Guy!"

Sue was struggling to keep a firm grip on the gun.

"Strife, conflict, bigotry, name-calling-this is what we thrive on! It's what he he thrives on-your father. He loves discord. He is the Lord of Chaos and Conflict. It's so much fun to get the sheep riled up. Get them shouting on talk radio. Fill their hearts with anger and accusation. It's fun to stir up trouble between people. Admit it, Sue, you, too, enjoyed it. I know you have." thrives on-your father. He loves discord. He is the Lord of Chaos and Conflict. It's so much fun to get the sheep riled up. Get them shouting on talk radio. Fill their hearts with anger and accusation. It's fun to stir up trouble between people. Admit it, Sue, you, too, enjoyed it. I know you have."

Sue remembered the thrill she'd experienced causing trouble between Malika and Sandy. As if it was a natural thing for her...

"You're not like other girls, Sue, and you never have been," Joyce told her. "You know that. You've never been sick. You can do things with your mind. You can't ever live the life of a normal girl." She took a step even closer to Sue. "And you can't love, can you? You have never been able to love a boy, or feel desire for him. What would life be like if you can't love?"

Sue was noticeably shaking now.

"And the one boy who might have loved you is now terrified of you, isn't he?" Joyce asked.

"How do you know about Billy?"

Joyce smiled. "He told his mother, who told me."

Sue began to cry. She dropped the gun, and Joyce picked it up.

"So isn't the choice apparent, Sue? What else is there for you? Your destiny is to be-"

What Ginny saw next took her breath away. She wasn't even able to scream.

Sue transformed. In an instant her whole body changed. She seemed almost to explode-and in her place stood a fearful creature, a swirling, crackling demon whose form was indistinct-as if darkness was suddenly given life.