To Be Obscure

| CH. 11

By Sunday, the three of us hadn't slept. For Nathan and me, this was normal. What was sleep? I avoided dreams as best as I could, and Nathan spent too much time in front of his computer to even think of it.

But, for Rosie, sleep was a necessity. I saw it in the light bruises that formed under her eyes, and the way her face slumped in her palm as she looked at me.

She spoke to us, told us everything she could. I listened, and Nathan took notes.

That glorious church Charlotte had thought she found, was evil in disguise. Murdering the innocent under a charade of goodwill and cleansed sins. Their leader, Abigail Sutton, paraded the pews of rented halls and churches, telling her followers what they must do to be purified.

"Repent," Rosie had reenacted Abigail's speeches, "confess to what you are! Vile, unworthy creatures; lost in the dark and away from God's grace. Repent with us, and with our blood, you'll be welcomed at the gates of heaven! Live forever amongst the angels of Lucifer's army! We shall all have our seats at his side—at God's side—where we rightfully belong!"

I hadn't been able to take it all in, not at first. None of what she'd said was on that website we found. Then again, why would it have been? It was pure insanity. The very thought of Charlotte sucked into a cult that took my disease and masqueraded it as the elixir of life—I couldn't understand it. I knew I needed to get her out.

If only it were so easy...

Rosie hadn't seen Charlotte in a year, and the last time they'd said a single word to each other, they lived in Texas. According to her, Abigail always seemed to acquire an apartment complex for everyone to live in, whether it be large or small, so they never stayed in one place for too long. People forked over their fortunes for their beliefs in her twisted bible. She'd have men and women buy her properties, cars, and stock under their names.

Everything screamed cult. The Church of Evergreens was a flourishing, slaughtering crew, and I was related to them.

"I know you're tired, love, but explain this to me again." I paced in front of the couch, Rosie's tired eyes following my every step. "They're aware I'm alive. Each of them?"

"No," Rosie yawned, "Grandpa Vic knows, but not Abby, or the others. Just him, and of course Mom."

I nodded as Nathan's pen scratched away at the paper Why hadn't he typed these notes? "And this Victor," I'd brought my journal out of my room and flipped through the pages, "the one Charlotte confided in, is—"

"Your father," she said with a nodded and closed her eyes.

I sucked on my teeth. Parts of the conversation made me want to laugh, while other parts made me want to yell:

My family lost me over two hundred years ago while traveling in Europe. I was a drunken fool, hungry for women. They'd tried to turn me towards the eyes of Christ, but immortality stewed in my mind, blinded by it. So, they left me; left dear John in a town, drunk in bed. When they'd returned for me, I was gone.

I couldn't remember that, nor could I remember ever being called John. All the stories stirred my nerves, and I kept a bottle of whiskey handy. "He's caring for her," I looked at Rosie, "your mother?"

She nodded again. "Always did, since I could remember. Once he learned who she was, and how we were related to you, he couldn't ignore her. It's like he had a child again."

"I have a brother." I ran my fingers through my hair. "Didn't you say that I have a brother?"

Rosie pulled a couch pillow under her chin. Nathan turned in his chair and wheeled himself over to his computer. With a tap of his finger, a word document opened across the screen.