“I never thought about that,” Candy said. Her mother’s response had blindsided her. She’d always assumed there’d be a way. “People can forgive, right?”

“I’m afraid this is only the beginning, Candy. Something really terrible’s going to have to happen before ordinary folks come to their senses.”

“Where’s Dad?” Candy said, changing the subject.

“Well . . .” Melissa took a deep breath. “He’s at church.”

“He’s what?”

“At church. He’s preaching, believe it or not. He does it every day now.”

Candy wanted to laugh; of all the strange things she’d heard recently, the idea of her father heading to church to deliver a sermon was by far the strangest.

“I know how ludicrous it all sounds,” Melissa said. “Believe it or not, Ricky goes too. He has a lot more respect for your father these days.”

“What about Don?”

“He doesn’t have any interest in any of this. He stays in his room a lot these days.”

“This is too weird. Where does Dad preach?”

“He calls it The Church of . . . wait, let me get this right . . . The Church of . . . The Children of Eden. It’s on Treadskin Street, where the old Baptist Church used to be. They painted it green. It’s a really ugly green. But he’s really changed his ways, Candy. And people like what he has to say. Look. On the windows.”

Melissa pointed. There was a poster taped to the dining room window. And two more of the same design upstairs. Candy took a couple of steps back toward the house, so as to read what they said.

COME IN!

NO CONFESSIONS!

NO CONTRIBUTIONS!

ENTER AND YOU SHALL BE SAVED!

Candy was suspicious.

“He used to watch those TV evangelists just to laugh at them! And now he’s a believer?”

“Well, he isn’t drinking as much, which is a blessing. So maybe it’s doing him some good.” Suddenly, Melissa halted and the look of concern she already had on her face deepened. “You have to go now,” she said.

“Why?”

“I heard the front door. Your father’s back.”

“He can’t see me, Mom. I’m here in your dream.”

“I know that’s the way it was before, Candy, but like I said, things have changed.”

“No that much.”

As she spoke she felt a strange tingling sensation at the top of her spine, and slowly, slowly—almost as if in a nightmare—she turned back to see something her soul told her not to look at. Too late.

There was her father, coming out of the house. And he was staring right at her.

Chapter 25

No More Lies

CANDY HAD FACED MORE than her share of monstrous enemies in the last few months: Kaspar Wolfswinkel in his prison house on Ninnyhammer; the Zethek, crazed in the holds of the humble fishing boat Parroto Parroto; and the many Beasts of Efreet, one of whom had slaughtered Diamanda.

And not forgetting, of course, the creature who’d waited for Candy in the house where she’d taken refuge after Diamanda’s death: Christopher Carrion.

And the Hag, Mater Motley.

And Princess Boa.

But none of these monsters prepared her for this confrontation, with her very own father. Here he was, and he could see her.

Things had changed, just as her mother had warned.

“You thought you’d slip in here and spy on good Christian people without being seen? Think again. I see witches very clearly.” He held up the Bible he was carrying in his hand. “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live!”

This sounded so utterly preposterous coming from her father’s mouth that she couldn’t help but laugh. His face, which had always gone red when he flew into a temper, instead became pale, draining of blood.

“You mock me, you mock the Great One,” he said. His tone was calm, remote. “Do so if you wish. Laugh yourself into the flames of perdition.”

Candy stopped laughing. Not out of fear, but out of puzzlement. Her father had changed. The puffiness had gone from his face, and there was a new intensity in his eyes, replacing the blur of beer. He was leaner too. The extra pounds that had softened his jawline had gone. Nor was he combing his last few hairs over his head from side to side in a pitiful attempt to conceal his loss of hair. He had shaved it off. He was now completely bald.

“I don’t know what your mother’s been telling you, but I’m sure it’s lies,” he said.

“She just said you and Ricky go to church together.”

“Oh, indeed we do. Those of us with brains in our heads have seen the light. Ricky! Come out here! We’ve got a visitor.”

Candy threw a glance up at her mom. There were so many contrary emotions fighting for Melissa’s face that Candy couldn’t figure out what she was really feeling.

“Your mother can’t help you,” Bill said to Candy. “So I’d put her out of your head, if I were you. There’s only one man of vision left in Chickentown these days, and you’re looking at him. Ricky! When I tell you to get out here, you do it!”

While her father was looking toward the house, Candy glanced down at the vest he was wearing. Even by Abaratian standards it would have been thought outlandish. It was made from a patchwork of various thick fabrics—one striped, one polka-dotted, one black—but possessing an odd iridescence. She knew she’d seen this odd combination of colors before. But where? She was still puzzling over the mystery when Ricky appeared from the house. Her brother’s hair had been shaved off as well and he looked skinnier than ever. His eyes looked huge, like an anxious baby.

He’s so afraid, Candy thought. Poor Ricky. Afraid of the man who’s supposed to be his protector. No, not afraid: terrified.

“I was getting a clean T-shirt, Dad—I mean, Reverend, sir.”

“I don’t care what you were doing,” Bill snapped. “When I call you, you’ve got how long?”

“Ten seconds, Dad. No. I mean—sorry, sir. Reverend. I mean, Reverend.”

“Finally, the boy says something I can bear listening to. Now, I want you to take a deep breath, boy. And I want you to rest that stupid, stupid, stupid brain of yours. Do you understand what you need to do?”

“I guess so.”

“It’s real simple, son. Just don’t think.”

“About anything?”

“About anything. I just want you to close your eyes. That’s good. You’re perfectly safe.”

Candy threw a puzzled glance toward her mother, but Melissa was watching her husband. There was not so much as a flicker of affection on her face. If she had ever really loved him, it seemed, that love had been poured away, every last drop of it. In its place, there was only fear.

“Our eyes deceive us sometimes, son,” Bill was telling Ricky. “They make us see things that aren’t really there. And sometimes they hide things that are there.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yes. I wouldn’t lie to you. You know that.”

“Of course.”

“So it’s time your eyes told you the truth, don’t you think?”

“Sure.”

“Good,” Bill told him. “Now . . . are you ready?”

“For what, sir?”

“To see what the world really looks like, Ricky. Your attention is wandering. You’re not focused. Listen to me. We have a force of evil that will destroy us, right here in our midst.”

“Do we?”

“Open your eyes, and see for yourself.”

Ricky’s eyes flickered open and it was clear from the instant his eyes focused that his father’s tutelage had worked.

“Candy?” he said. “Where did you come from?”

“I’m not—”

“Shut your wicked mouth!” her father said, jabbing the air just a couple of inches away from her face. “Don’t listen to anything she says, boy. I told you they’re full of lies, didn’t I? It comes so easily to them. They open their painted red lips and the lies just start tumbling out! They can’t stop themselves.”

“What are you talking about, Bill?” Melissa said.

“You, woman.”

“Woman?”

“That is your gender, isn’t it?” Bill replied.

Candy saw the look of mystification on Melissa’s face. This sounded like her father, only worse.