Chapter 14 Gracen
GRACEN
Every cult has a roster. It’s a matter of finding it, which has always proven to be elusive with the New World Order Temple. We know it exists. No organization that thrives on controlling others to give them power wouldn’t have a list of members.
But in the more than ten years that the Van Dorens have been looking at the temple, they’ve yet to find the roster. It’s the one piece of information that I haven’t found either. Every disciple we’ve gotten our hands on, we’ve asked where to find it, and their answer is always the same.
Only Ryan had access to it.
Rather inconvenient. It’s difficult to find victims. We’re using old videos to track down the identities of the disciples.
No longer is the New World Order Temple still a public megachurch. Now it’s small and secretive, continuing the sick practices and the corrupt messages that Ryan spewed in dark corners. They know they’re being hunted. They know members disappear.
Having Emily’s name and the structure of her family should give us some leads. Her last name is unique enough that she shouldn’t be so hard to track. Yet, it’s as if she’s been erased.
I think I’ve found her family, now with two more children than Jonathan recalled. However, instead of five children, they have four. Emily is missing.
A pit in my stomach says that she’s dead. That’s why she disappeared. I’ve watched the recording of Malin asking about Emily several times now, and Jonathan doesn’t display any indication that he’s lying when he says she disappeared.
The family is still connected to the cult. It’s disturbing. Did they have more children to replace her? Are they unconcerned about their daughter’s disappearance?
I click on a link, but a damn ad pops up just before clicking, and I frustratingly get redirected somewhere else. Some damn sites are so overpopulated with fucking ads they’re almost unusable.
My mouse hovers over the back button, but for an unknown reason, I freeze as I stare at the screen. Do you have a ghost? Are you haunted?
I’m not someone who believes in the paranormal. I deal in facts. Evidence. I follow data to find answers. But something about the way the man in the advertisement is looking over his shoulder at the spectral image behind him has me staring.
My brain rewrites the nameless man with Malin, and I’ve seen that exact expression on his face. The exact way he’s looking at something specific, while others move around him, unaware.
What if what he says is actually literal?
I shut my laptop and leave my office, heading down the hall until I’m standing outside the triplets’ office. Yes, they share one. It’s kind of cute that even at work, they like to be in one place.
However, two of the three desks are empty. Imry is sitting at his, though. He looks up when I poke my head in.
“Hey, Gracen.”
“Hey. Two-thirds at home?”
“Yep. Everything okay?”
“Yes… I have something I want to run by them. You’re welcome to attend if you like.”
He nods, studying me. “I’ll let them fill me in later.”
I raise my hand in departure before heading down the hall toward Malin’s office.
He still has a stack of phone books making a tower in the corner.
There are crumpled pages all over his office today, as there are at least two or three days a week.
But he’s not messing with the phone books right now. He’s sitting behind his desk.
Malin looks up, and I’m gifted with the tiny hint of a smile. Stepping inside, I stop at his desk and lean down to kiss him. “I have to run out for a bit. I’ll be back for lunch.”
He nods. His eyes flicker away. I don’t miss the flinch he tries to hide. Before leaving his office, I peel off one of my shirts and wrap it around his neck. This time, I’m rewarded with something far more reminiscent of a smile than I usually see.
I’ve been wearing two shirts for just this reason. When I have to leave and he can’t come to me when he needs a snuggle, I leave him with a shirt that he promptly buries his face in.
I kiss his forehead. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Okay.”
It doesn’t take me long to get to the two-thirds triplets’ house. One of them is sitting outside in the yard on a blanket with the twins. They look up when I pull in. The twins wave as I approach.
“Hey, cuties,” I greet, putting my hands on each of their heads. “Getting some fresh air, are we?”
“Yes,” the adult Van Doren says. I don’t even try to identify them until I’m certain.
“Your other half inside?”
He nods. “He’ll be out in a minute. Want to join us?”
“Please.” I take a seat with the twins. Brodrie shifts so I’m included in his line of sight. The twins are easy to tell apart. One has brown eyes, and the other has blue eyes. Otherwise, they look alike.
“Everything okay?”
“Yes, there’s something I want to run by you.”
“Concerning Malin.”
“Yes,” I answer, though it wasn’t a question.
The other adult Van Doren joins us, taking a seat. They give me a wide smile, and I think that’s Ellory. “Hey, cousin.”
“Hey.”
“He wants to talk to us about Malin.”
“Are you asking for our blessing to marry him?”
I raise my eyebrows in surprise. He laughs at my response. Yep, that’s Ellory for sure. “Uh, no.”
Avory shakes his head, though his amusement is obvious. As is that indulgent, familiar love in the way he watches Ellory.
“So?” Avory asks.
“Do you believe in ghosts?”
I’m a little surprised when both of their smiles fade. Neither laughs, though I expected it.
“Why?” Ellory asks.
“I’ve recently been toying with the idea that Malin is haunted. Literally haunted. Not just in the descriptive way we tend to say people are mentally harboring memories from a traumatic experience.”
“Why do you think that?” Avory asks.
“He’s told me outright that he’s haunted by his past. That he never leaves him alone. So many things he’s told me, I’ve taken to interpreting as metaphorical. Primarily, he tells me I bring him peace. When people say that, it’s like calling someone their home, right? I bring him inner peace.”
“But what if your presence literally silences a ghost?” Ellory says quietly.
I nod. “There’s more than that. Have you noticed the way he looks away or looks around his surroundings? It’s not in observation. He looks someplace specifically. Or he avoids looking at a specific place.”
“Oh my god,” Ellory mutters.
“The way his shoulders tense, the way he curls in on himself… It’s all very reminiscent of a person being yelled at. Disciplined.”
Ellory is beginning to look distressed.
I lean forward. “On numerous occasions, after I’ve left the room and returned, he has his hands covering his ears as if he’s trying to prevent himself from hearing something.”
“I feel stupid,” Ellory says, closing his eyes.
“So you do believe in ghosts.”
He and Avory exchange a look. “Kind of,” Ellory says.
“I don’t see or hear them. But sometimes, I can…
feel them. A target I’ve killed. There are times when I feel their spirit, and I have to tell them they don’t have permission to follow me home.
There are some places I feel them more, like when we visited the megachurch warehouse. They lingered there.”
“I don’t share that ability,” Avory says, shaking his head. “I don’t know that I believe one way or the other, to be honest.”
“What if he’s actually haunted?” I ask. “What if all the times he’s said something that we’ve interpreted differently, he’s actually telling us in literal terms?”
Ellory shakes his head. Guilt is written all over his face. “That means he’s struggled with Johnston’s ghost for ten years,” he mutters. “And we’ve done nothing to help him.”
“What do you propose we do?” Avory asks me.
“I accidentally clicked on a pop-up ad,” I say, frowning.
“One of those pain-in-the-ass things that get in the way of the actual link you’re trying for.
” Both of them nod in understanding. No one likes pop-up ads.
“While I don’t intend to use one of those, I’m thinking that we get in touch with someone who can help us? ”
“Please tell me you’re not suggesting a priest or some shit?” Avory asks.
I snort. “I think that would only cause him more trauma, given where his abuse took place and under what pretense. But no, I’m thinking maybe someone like a psychic medium.
If Johnston’s ghost is still hanging around and you’ve been able to sense spirits of your targets in the past, that means he’s hiding from everyone except Malin.
But I doubt he’ll be able to hide from a psychic medium.
They should at least be able to tell us if that’s the case or if we’re way off track. ”
“He doesn’t hide from everyone,” Avory says, his head tilted to the side. “I’ve seen Okello point at something that no one sees around Malin many times. I think we’ve all just written it off as a three-year-old being a kid.”
“Imaginary friends,” Ellory says.
Avory and I nod.
“Okay, let’s find one,” Ellory says.
“We can’t bring them here,” Avory says, glancing at the house and the trees surrounding us. “Let’s say that there are spirits here that just… linger. There are a lot of secrets on this property that we don’t want ghosts to repeat. I feel stupid saying this out loud.”
I laugh. “Maybe at the big house. I would wager a guess that the most prominent spirits in the big house would be Van Doren ancestors, no?”
“Yeah, okay. I’m going to warn Dad and see if he has another suggestion, but let’s go with that.”
“I don’t think it truly matters where we are. To me, it appears that Johnston’s ghost follows him. He’s not haunting a specific place. He’s haunting Malin himself.”
“I feel so stupid,” Ellory mutters. “I should have thought of that.”
Avory wraps an arm around his waist, pulling him into his side. I smile. I love their love. It’s pure and sweet.
Brodrie, sensing something wrong with his fathers, crawls toward them and climbs into their laps. Sawyer follows. They’re a perfect little family.
“I’ll keep you posted,” I say and get to my feet.
They acknowledge my departure, and I head back to the office. My first stop is Malin. I stop outside his door, finding him right where I left him with my shirt wrapped around his head like he’s warding off the cold.
He looks up, meeting my eyes. I watch him closely and wonder where Johnston is. The seconds tick by, and there it is. His eyes flicker to his left. They linger for a minute before meeting mine again.
What everyone has always interpreted as eye contact making him uncomfortable might be something very different. Our inability to observe him without him knowing, because he always senses us there, could be Johnston saying something.
I step into the room and join him behind his desk. Malin rests his head against my hip without a word. While he takes comfort in my presence, I look around his office.
Your days are numbered, Johnston.
“We’ll fix this,” I murmur. “Promise. We’ll find a way to free you, Malin.”
His arm wraps around my leg, and he turns his face into my thigh. His chest inflates as he inhales deeply.
We’ll get rid of your demons. That’s what Johnston is, after all. He’s not a ghost. Not a simple spirit. He’s a demon clinging to his victim. Just as he had in life, he continues in death.