going to Tampa,” Mrs. Greene said. “I need to know if you’re serious or not.”
“I’m sorry,” Patricia said.
Mrs. Greene’s face screwed itself shut.
“I need to get my sleep,” she said, starting to stand up.
“No, wait, I’ll go,” Patricia said.
“I don’t have time for you to play,” Mrs. Greene said.
“I’ll go,” Patricia said.
Mrs. Greene walked her to the front door. At the door, Patricia stopped.
“How could we have seen Miss Mary?” she asked.
“She’s burning in Hell,” Mrs. Greene said. “I asked my minister and he says that’s where ghosts come from. They burn in Hell and they can’t go into the cool, healing waters of the River Jordan until they let go of this world. Miss Mary suffers the torments of Hell because she wants to warn you. She burns because she loves her grandchildren.”
Patricia’s blood felt heavy in her veins..
“I think it’s her, too,” Patricia said, and she tried one last time to stop all this talk of ghosts, and men who didn’t age, and to erase the image of James Harris in the back of the van, that inhuman thing coming out of his mouth, hunched over Destiny Taylor. “Maybe we’re making this too difficult. Maybe if we go and ask him to stop…tell him what we know…”
“Three things are never satisfied,” Mrs. Greene said, and Patricia recognized the quotation from somewhere. “And four is never enough. He’ll eat up everyone in the world and keep on eating. The leech has two daughters and their names are Give and Give.”
Patricia had an idea.
“If two of us make it go faster,” she said, “it’ll go even faster with three.”
CHAPTER 28
“Patricia!” Slick cried. “Thank goodness!”
“I’m sorry to drop by without calling—” Patricia began.
“You’re always welcome,” Slick said, pulling her in off the doorstep. “I’m brainstorming my Halloween party and maybe you can unstick my logjam. You’re so good at these things!”
“You’re having a Halloween party?” Patricia asked, following Slick back to her kitchen.
She held her purse close to her body, feeling the folder and photograph burning through its canvas sides.
“I’m against Halloween in all its forms because of the Satanism,” Slick said, pulling open her stainless-steel refrigerator and taking out the half-and-half. “So this year, on All Hallows’ Eve, I will be holding a Reformation Party. I know it’s last minute, but it’s never too late to praise the Lord.”
She poured coffee, added her half-and-half, and handed Patricia a black-and-gold Bob Jones University mug.
“A what party?” Patricia asked.
But Slick had already burst through the swinging door that led to the back addition. Patricia followed, mug in one hand, purse in the other. Slick sat on one of the sofas in what she called the “conversation area,” and Patricia sat across from her and looked for a place to set her mug. The coffee table between them was covered in photocopies, clipped-out magazine articles, three-ring binders, and pencils. The end table next to her was crowded with a collection of snuffboxes, several marble eggs, and a bowl of potpourri. Along with the dried flower petals, leaves, and wood shavings, Slick had added a few golf balls and tees to pay tribute to Leland’s passion for the sport. Patricia decided to just hold her mug in her lap.
“You catch more flies with sugar than vinegar,” Slick said. “So on Sunday I’ll throw a party that will make everyone forget about Halloween: my Reformation Party. I’m going to present the idea to St. Joseph’s tomorrow. See, we’ll take the children to the Fellowship Hall—and of course Blue and Korey will be welcome—and we’ll make sure there are activities for the teenagers. They’re the ones most at risk, after all, but instead of monster costumes they dress up like heroes of the Reformation.”
“The who?” Patricia asked.
“You know,” Slick said. “Martin Luther, John Calvin. We’ll have medieval line dancing and German food, and I thought it would be fun to have themed snacks. What do you think? It’s a Diet of Worms cake.”
Slick handed Patricia a picture she’d cut out of a magazine.