Slowly the energy and ecstasy of the worship service faded, controlled by the slowing, softening beat of the drum. The snakes were returned to their boxes, and the peopled gathered close, surrounded the preacher for a final prayer, one said in low, murmured tones that didn’t reach beyond the circle of church members.

When it ended, the women and girls went directly to the picnic tables-all except for the drummer. She moved to the preacher’s side.

Wicker picnic baskets were pulled from underneath the tables. Plates and silverware, tablecloths and finally dishes of food were laid out.

Movement at the end of the clearing drew Aisling’s eye. Zurael murmured, “There’s the child.”

The little girl was subdued where the children not being carried by young teens were already tumbling toward the adults and the food like eager puppies. And as if the children’s appearance was the sign to begin the meal, the men still at the altar picked up the snake boxes and went to the picnic tables.

The boxes were set on the ground, on benches, on the tables, as if they were hymn books set aside after the worship service. The rattle of the snakes slowly faded, giving way to the sound of conversation and laughter as people took their seats and began to eat.

Aisling’s stomach clenched painfully. Her mouth watered.

She turned to look at Zurael, her eyes catching on the serpent tattoo coiling around his forearm before lifting to meet his eyes. Hunger or insightful observation, the words came from nowhere. “If I go alone, with you in a snake’s form, they might welcome us with less suspicion and talk more freely in front of us.”

Denial flashed in Zurael’s eyes. His features tightened.

Aisling touched her fingertips to his lips with a confidence that once would have been foreign to her. “Don’t say no. This is the best way. Let them think I’m one of them, someone whose faith is marked by a sign they believe in.”

His hand lifted to become a fiery shackle around her wrist. A violent storm raged in his eyes, only yielding to the calm of deadly promise. He pulled her fingers from where they touched his mouth. “We’ll approach the gathering as you suggest. My ability to protect you is limited by the serpent’s form. Be warned, Aisling. Anyone who threatens you will be dead before they strike the ground. I won’t risk your being harmed.”

The fingers around her wrist tightened, then disappeared as he pulled away and became the serpent he’d been the day Elena visited, the day he and Aisling were taken unwilling into the spiritlands by a Ghost touch. She picked him up and draped him over her neck as she’d seen the worshippers do, as she’d once done with Aziel when he wore the body of a king snake.

Worry for Aziel distracted her. She stumbled, sending a covey of quail flying from cover with the noise she made.

Aisling forced herself to concentrate on the moment, on the task at hand. It was easy enough to rejoin the trail. Far harder to leave the shelter and protection of the forest.

Her heart raced in her chest. She knew that in the serpent’s form, Zurael would taste her fear.

Whether it was the eruption of the quail or simply a testament to how alert they were to their surroundings, despite the ease in which they were gathered around the picnic tables, all eyes seemed to be on her the moment she stepped into the clearing.

The preacher rose from the table, as did the woman drummer. Both came forward to greet her with smooth confidence, the force of their personalities reaching her before they did.

“Welcome. I’m Brother Edom and this is my wife, Sister Elisheba.”

The preacher’s voice was the warmth of home, the promise of family and safety. His eyes were a father’s, a brother’s, seeing past the sin to the good that lay beneath and offering forgiveness, understanding.

“Come, join us for the meal,” his wife said in lyrical tones, her eyes soft, offering a mother’s love, a sister’s friendship. “What should we call you?”

Their charisma was nearly overwhelming. It pressed against Aisling’s psyche as if seeking hollow places to fill and gain anchorage in.

Her fingers curled unconsciously around the hidden fetish pouch. And with a suddenness that left her swaying slightly, she was free of Edom and Elisheba’s subtle influence.

Aisling looked down at the ground, hoping they saw success in her unsteadiness, instead of failure. “Call me Aisling,” she said in a whisper.

“You look tired and hungry, worn from your trials,” Elisheba said. “Let us wash your feet and welcome you properly.”

“No,” Aisling said, deciding it was best not to let them pull her too deeply into their world. “I can’t stay.”

She dared to lift her face and meet their eyes again. In them she saw pity and regret, gentle understanding and infinite patience. But unlike before, she didn’t feel buffeted by emotions.

“We understand,” Edom said. “For some it takes time to believe and accept that God offers a taste of paradise on Earth for those who do His work. Come share a meal and fellowship with us.”

Aisling followed them to the picnic tables and was introduced. A place to the left of Elisheba was rapidly cleared for her, though when the others retook their seats, they noted Zurael’s presence and didn’t sit within striking distance.

A plate loaded with sliced pork was set near Aisling. Her stomach growled so loudly that heat flashed to her cheeks. But the people around her laughed with good humor and pushed other food in her direction.

She ate, though after the first few bites Zurael’s weight draped over her neck grew heavier and her conscience made the food lose some of its taste. She hated the thought of him being hungry in the midst of such a feast, but consoled herself with the knowledge he could hunt later or find the Fellowship kitchen and slip into it unseen.

When the meal was finished, young girls collected the plates while older ones served dessert. Boys of all ages stood, drifting closer to the table where she sat, apparently drawn by Zurael.

“He looks poisonous,” one of them said, his gaze riveted on Zurael.

“I think he might be,” Aisling said and there were appreciative murmurs from the boys when Zurael opened his mouth to reveal deadly fangs. “He was at the edge of the clearing. I picked him up after witnessing the worship service.”

Several of the boys nodded.

Edom said, “The Spirit came on you, Aisling. It pulled you through a doorway and into fellowship-not just for your sake, but for ours!”

“Amen!” the people within hearing range said.

“It sent you as testament to The Word,” Edom said.

“Tell us more,” came the refrain.

“God is a living god,” Edom said. “He’s a spirit. He doesn’t have a body. Except us. We’re his body.”

“Amen!”

“We’re his hands and his mouth. We’re his way into this world!”

“Amen!”

“Amen!” Edom said, leaving a pulsing, energy-filled silence that Aisling filled by asking, “Is that why you make and sell Ghost? So people will be open to The Spirit?”

She thought they’d be defensive, frightened that she knew about Ghost. But her question was greeted by smiles of understanding and nods of encouragement, by murmurs of “Welcome, Sister.”

Their reaction confused her. It made the knot in her stomach grow heavy and cold. Her conscience shuddered and her soul recoiled at the thought of overseeing the slaughter of people who seemed strangely innocent, unaware of the devastation that would one day be unleashed because of their beliefs.

Edom leaned forward, eyes shining with the fervor of his faith. “Today isn’t the first time The Spirit has come on you, is it? It came knocking when you were in one of those places of sin in the city-places with names advertising their wickedness.

“Lust! Greed! Envy! Those are just a few of the clubs people flock to, trying to fill an emptiness that can only be filled by Him!