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“Kate, I didn’t kill him, Denton didn’t kill him.I don’t know who killed him.”
“So why did you kill George Palmer?The detective?You’re pleading guilty to that, aren’t you?So why lie about my father?”
“I’m not lying about your father.As you point out, I’d have no reason to kill him; it would offer no benefit.I murdered Palmer because I had to get you to come to the church.You were supposed to come alone.That’s where things unraveled.”
The man looked genuinely irritated, as if the whole affair had wound up as an irritation, like a flat tire or a canceled flight.It struck Kate for the first time that Cox might actually be telling the truth.
“That’s another thing I wanted to discuss with you, Cox.Because it seems to me that you evoke the Divine Will and the power of prophecy when you feel like it.You might say that me bringing my partner along was a mistake.But equally you might say it was all part of God’s plan.You say you went to all that trouble, arranging a double sacrifice to God.And now it hasn’t happened.So either God is pretty terrible at sticking to his plans, or you’re just a shitty prophet.”
Cox shook his head, smiling, before he recited.“Not a drinking cup cracked, not a boot sullied, a sword blunted or a girl’s smile unseen…” You know it.Book of Bezalel?The latest pseudepigraph – they think he was a Jewish soldier in the 10thcentury Turkish army.Complaining about blisters and his lost kit, but ultimately comforted because he knows it’s all God’s doing.I especially like the ‘girl’s smile unseen.’”
“Aren’t you a little bit, you know, disappointed?“
Cox shook his head and smiled.“Everything happens according to His will.And he reveals it, piece by piece.It’s like a map.People like you, they see next to nothing, the ground under their feet, if they’re lucky.People like me, with the gift of prophecy, we can see the next ten, twenty, thirty miles.Only God has the atlas.So, if you and I didn’t die that night, it’s because God intends for us to witness something else.The next stage.”
“Is that what you meant with that story, about the King of Tarshish?”
Cox awarded her an approving nod.“Well done.You plodded your way there in the end.I had almost begun to think it was beyond you.Thanks be to heaven.” It wasn’t even sarcasm.He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, as if he was savoring a mountain breeze.“It’s all so much bigger than you can grasp.The beast is under your feet, above you, in the walls, it is in the wind and the sea, it is waiting behind every darkened door.”He opened his eyes and stared at her.“It is everywhere.”
“What does that even mean?”
He leaned forward suddenly.Despite the glass, she couldn’t help shrinking back.
He whispered the words, his eyes boring into her and at the same time seemingly fixed on some inner point, far, far away.“After Denton, after me, there are many more disciples.And there will be many more deaths.The world will be washed in blood, Kate.”
“Let me out.”
“Washed in blood.Death has only just begun.And you are its witness.”
She pressed the buzzer.“Let me out!”
EPILOGUE
He held the clay in his hands and squeezed, pushing it through the space between his fingers.It was warm, wet, and slimy, like a birth.He returned it to the board in front of him and began to mold it, slowly.He had no design for it, no plans or instructions, merely an image in his mind, of the shape he wanted it to resemble.A large-headed figure, squatting upon its haunches, its arms folded neatly over its knees.
Once he got that basic shape right, he took up a little tool: a chisel fashioned from a matchstick.Used it to carve out the toes on the figure’s feet, the fingers resting upon the knees.Using the surplus clay on the head, he fashioned a simple crown, under it, a pair of ears with rings in the lobes.
Only once all this detail was completed, could he turn his attention to the face.Nose first, slightly aquiline.Lips full and sensuous, but enigmatic.Was he smiling or not?He fashioned the eyes last of all.Always did.Imagine if you could see yourself, and discover that you had no nose, or mouth?That was why every sculptor made the eyes last.So that the effigy could see itself, and be pleased with the result.
He’d just completed the left eye when his phone lit up and beeped, startling him.It was so quiet in the studio, and he liked it to stay that way.Tutting with annoyance, he set the sculpture aside, picked up the damp cloth from the sink and wiped his hands.Once you got clay in the keys of that thing, it was game over.
Hed received a text message.
The Lawgiver lives.
And as he was on the brink of setting the phone back down, it flashed with a second message.
Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image.
He set the phone down and looked at the clay figure.And the clay figure looked back at him, with its single eye.