He swallowed audibly and began again, tentatively. “After I…drank from the chalice, they began to chant.”

“What did they say?”

“I don’t-” he pressed his fingertips to his temples “-something about heat and the flower and the light. Then they…took off my blindfold.”

Liz straightened. “And? Did you recognize any of them?”

“Creatures,” he said. “They weren’t human. Birds and tigers and the walking…dead.” On the last his voice grew thick, and he cleared his throat. “I had this sense they…”

She leaned toward him. “You sensed what, Mark?”

“That they meant to devour me, spirit and all.”

For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. She shook her head. “They were probably masked.”

“Yes,” he repeated hollowly. “Of course. Masked.”

“So you couldn’t recognize them.”

“I guess not.”

That he didn’t sound convinced concerned her. She wondered again at the drugs he had been given. Some sort of hallucinogenic, for sure. As a mental health care professional, she was well versed in the effects and side effects of drugs of abuse. These days, sadly, she wouldn’t be able to perform her job if she wasn’t.

“They began to tear at me. As if feasting on my flesh. But they…it was sexual.”

He lowered his voice to a thready whisper she had to strain to hear. He told her about their hands and mouths, about his being laid upon an altar and of floating above it, enraptured. He described his all-but-continual orgasm.

Ecstasy or cocaine might explain the intense sexual aspects of Mark’s experience. Mescaline or peyote could account for the visual hallucinations. LSD for hallucinations paired with the impaired depth and time perception.

Liz swallowed against the dryness of her throat. Her heart had begun to beat faster

“Then my head…exploded.” He began to tremble. “It was like the most brilliant light in the universe flashed before my eyes, blindingly white. Then it went black.” He looked at her; she went cold at the terror in his eyes. “That’s when I saw it, Liz.”

“It?”

“The Beast.”

For the full count of five, Liz sat silent, motionless. She couldn’t find her voice.

He dropped his face in his hands once more. “I’m so ashamed.”

“You were drugged. Probably given a combination of something like ecstasy and LSD, a drug cocktail designed to elicit the responses you describe. You aren’t responsible for what happened.”

“They mean to kill me, Liz.”

“Did they say that? Did anyone verbally threaten you?”

“They know what I was up to. Somehow they know.”

“But how?” She frowned. “Mark, you’ve had a shock. You were given God only knows what combination of narcotics, ones that influenced your reactions the other night and how you feel mentally and physically right now. If they planned to kill you, they would have done it then.”

“The Lord was there with me, Liz. He protected me. He sent Stephen into the garden for me.”

Liz didn’t know what to say. The truth was, her young friend was frightening her. The fanatical light in his eyes reminded her of the way Tara had looked that day in her office, when the girl had relayed the story of the Blessed Mother’s appearance here at Paradise Christian.

He leaned toward her. “Do you believe, Liz?”

“I believe you wouldn’t lie to me, Mark.”

“Not my story, that’s not what I mean. Do you believe?”

“Are you talking about God?” she asked. “About believing in God?”

Mark nodded, his teeth beginning to chatter. “In heaven, hell and all their power. In Satan and his army of darkness, in Jesus Christ and his eternal light and promise of forgiveness? He is the light, Liz. Without him we’re doomed.”

“You’re upset,” she murmured, reaching out to lay her hand on his forehead. “It’s going to be okay. It’s-”

“It’s not!” he cried, pushing her hand away. “You don’t get it. It’s happening. The battle is being waged now.”

Liz cleared her throat, frightened. “Mark, if you calm yourself, we can talk about what to do-”

He grabbed her hands, holding them so tightly she winced. “The outcome isn’t a given, Liz. Too many people take for granted that good will win out. We can’t do that.” He released her hands. “The darkness is powerful, more powerful than we ever imagined.”

He broke down then, sobbing like a baby. Liz took him in her arms and held him while he cried. She heard a sound and looked up to find Stephen in the doorway, gazing at Mark with affection and concern.

And fear. She drew her eyebrows together. Had they known each other before this? she wondered. The depth of emotion she saw in the caretaker’s expression suggested they had, but she hardly thought it possible.

As if becoming aware of her scrutiny, Stephen shifted his gaze to hers. They stared at one another a moment, then he backed silently out of the doorway.

Liz returned her attention to Mark, who had gone still in her arms. “Are you all right?” she asked softly.

He nodded and drew away from her, wiping at his cheeks, obviously embarrassed at having broken down that way in front of her.

“I can’t get them out of my head,” he murmured, voice thick from his tears. “I can’t get the Beast out.”

Satan. Beelzebub. The Angel of Darkness.

Liz searched his expression, alarmed. In some people, drugs like LSD and mescaline proved the kindling for a prolonged psychotic event. Typically those people had either a biological or emotional predisposition to mental illness. For example, buried issues they had never dealt with or a family history of schizophrenia. The stress of the acid experience could psychically break them open. Some never recovered, their delusions persisting like the never-ending “bad trip.”

Delusions involving Christ, the devil or other religious figures were common.

“I have to get you to the hospital, Mark. A doctor needs to look at you.”

“No!” He jumped to his feet, expression panicked. “They’ll know. They’re everywhere. They see everything.”

Rachel had said they were listening. That they were everywhere.

Liz shook her head against the thought, not knowing what to believe, what was fact and what was nightmare brought on by the drug cocktail. Frequently, schizophrenics heard voices and felt they were not only being watched but were in mortal danger as well.

She had to get him medical attention. She wasn’t a medical doctor. She knew little about drug interactions or antidotes. She feared for his health. She told him so.

“They’ll kill me, Liz! I know they will.”

She opened her mouth to reassure him that the police would protect him, then closed it. They wouldn’t protect him. According to what Rick told her, they thought Mark killed Tara. They thought the Horned Flower was a figment of her and Mark’s imagination. They needed a suspect and had decided Mark was that man.

She thought of Rick. What did he believe? If she told him she was with Mark, would he turn him over to the police?

She feared he would. She couldn’t allow that to happen.

The two of them were on their own.

Liz reached up and caught Mark’s hand. “All right,” she murmured. “No doctors and no police…for now. But no promises about tomorrow.”