Ross stared at the creature. It definitely wasn’t an angel…but his brain was telling him that it was. Which was probably what had happened to all of the people at the New Year’s Eve bash. Fortunately, he was self-aware enough that he knew he was being influenced, and that distance and sense of removal allowed him to understand what was happening. He glanced over at Lita and Dave, pretty sure that they were each having a similar experience. The expression on Lita’s face was one of fear.
Ross focused again on the rotting body in the center of the floor. There was something extremely primitive about the creature. It didn’t look like a dinosaur, although it definitely seemed like something that could have lived at the same time. If that were so, however, where had it been hiding in the millennia since? Why had no one seen it until now?
And were there any more of them?
As usual, he had more questions than answers, but the one thing that was incontrovertible was that, even in death, this creature—
angel
—was possessed of tremendous power.
Behind him, he heard the murmured sound of men in prayer.
And then Jorge closed the door, ending their glimpse of the creature.
Ross felt like someone just waking from a dream. His thoughts were fuzzy, and it took him several seconds to get his bearings. As rationally minded as he was, he was already running down possible reasons for what he’d experienced: there was a property within the wood that blocked the power exuded by the body as lead did radiation; the creature had to be seen for the effect to work…
What he could not confront in such a logical manner, at least not yet, was the big question: what was it?
Lita was the one who spoke for all of them. “Thank you,” she told Jorge. Her tone of voice made it sound as though she were a convert, as though one look at the—
angel
—creature had made her want to bow down in front of the smokehouse with the ranch hands. He was pretty sure she didn’t really feel that way—he certainly didn’t—but it was probably a good tack to take if they wanted to get out of there safely. Who knew how those fanatics would react to a dose of reality?
Jorge nodded solemnly as he locked the door. Cameron Holt was already back in the house, nowhere to be seen, and with Dave leading the way, the three of them walked silently between the rows of workers toward the truck. Ross wondered if Jorge and the others had some expectation of them, if, after looking into the smokehouse, they were supposed to do something to advance the…angel’s…cause. But no one said anything to them, and they were allowed to get back into the pickup and drive away.
Ross heard Lita exhale loudly as they pulled onto the road. He felt the same, a great release of tension, as though he’d been anxiously holding his breath and was only now able to breathe normally.
“What was that?” Dave said.
“For a moment, even I thought it was an angel,” Ross admitted.
“But there was that whole…thing. All those men worshipping it. And Jorge calling the shots instead of Cameron. What the fuck is going on there?”
“I don’t know,” Lita said quietly. “But it scared me.”
The same was true for all of them, and they drove the rest of the way in silence.
Back at the L-Bar D, Lita got out of the truck and went directly into the house. Dave waited a moment before joining her. “How could that dead body in Cameron’s smokehouse affect my chickens and bees over here?” he asked.
As if in answer, a swarm of bees flew out from one of the white boxes housing the honeycombs and hovered in the air before it, arranging themselves in what looked like a sketchy circle.
“And who can we call about this?” Dave wondered, echoing Ross’ own thoughts. “I mean, it’s not exactly the jurisdiction of the sheriff or the forest service, and what would they do if they did come out to check on it?” He shook his head. “We need to call…what? A witch? A witchdoctor? Who?”
“I have no idea,” Ross said.
Dave started toward the house. “I’m going to call around, tell everyone what we saw, see if they know any more than we do.”
Ross walked over to the shack and went inside. He tried calling Jill to tell her what he’d seen, but either she wasn’t home or wasn’t answering, and he hung up, not wanting to leave a message. This was something that needed to be discussed, and he decided to call back later, maybe at the usual time. He put the phone back in its cradle. He hadn’t realized until now that there was a usual time, but sometime within the past week, nightly phonecalls had become a habit with them—and had become the part of his day to which he most looked forward.