Chapter eleven
Holman Farm
725 N. Co. Road 1550
Basco, IL
T+ 27

Spencer

There was one more room to check. In this room they finally found age appropriate signs. "Oldest boys," Morgan said when he saw the extra sturdy bunk beds. "What is all this?'

"The Black Knights." Spencer read off of one of the many hand-done pictures on the walls. It was of a knight with black armor and a red Christian cross on his shield. The whole room had a kind of medieval marital thing going on, including shields and swords hung on the wall.

"Deuteronomy 32:40-43." Morgan read off the picture. "You remember Randall Garner?"

"For I lift up my hand to heaven, and say, I live forever. If I whet my glittering sword, and mine hand take hold on judgment; I will render vengeance to mine enemies, and will reward them that hate me. I will make mine arrows drunk with blood, and my sword shall devour flesh; and that with the blood of the slain and of the captives, from the beginning of revenges upon the enemy. Rejoice, O ye nations, with his people: for he will avenge the blood of his servants, and will render vengeance to his adversaries, and will be merciful unto his land, and to his people." Spencer replied. "Yes, I do."

"That can't be good." Morgan said. "If you were Percival does that make me Lancelot? He was good with the ladies. Here's a list. 'The Laws'. Deuteronomy 17:12, Leviticus 20:13, Leviticus 21:9, 20:10, Jeremiah 48:10"

"And the man that will do presumptuously, and will not hearken unto the priest that standeth to minister there before the Lord thy God, or unto the judge, even that man shall die: and thou shalt put away the evil from Israel.

If a man also lie with mankind, as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death; their blood shall be upon them.

And the daughter of any priest, if she profane herself by playing the whore, she profaneth her father: she shall be burnt with fire.

And the man that committeth adultery with another man's wife, even he that committeth adultery with his neighbour's wife, the adulterer and the adulteress shall surely be put to death.

Cursed be he that doeth the work of the Lord deceitfully, and cursed be he that keepeth back his sword from blood." Spencer replied. "It's all Old Testament. You know what the New Testament says about killing your enemies?"

"Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and hate thine enemy. But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you. Matthew 5:43-44." Morgan grinned. "My grandma made me memorize that one. I got into a lot of fights as a kid."

"Did it help?"

"Not as much as she'd hoped. What about Joel 3:9-11" This was off another knight picture, this one kneeling in prayer with blood dripping off his sword.

"Proclaim ye this among the People; Prepare war, wake up the mighty men, let all the men of war draw near; let them come up: Beat your plowshares into swords and your pruning hooks into spears: let the weak say, I am strong. Assemble yourselves, and come, all ye people, and gather yourselves together round about: thither cause thy mighty ones to come down, O Lord." Spencer replied. He spotted something under the bed and carefully drew it out. Laptop. "Morgan."

"I've got better." Behind the door were two assault rifles. "We're going to have to tear this place apart. I'll go get the guys to secure all this.

"I'll go get Susanna." At the very end of the hall there was a dark doorway nearly hidden by an armoire went up to the right. "Morgan." He called back, telling him he was going up. There was no light switch, and his flashlight revealed no fixture at all, only a narrow staircase heading up into the tower.

Tower.

For a moment Spencer just stood there. He was standing in a house that could easily be a castle, in body armor, about to go rescue someone who might well be a princess from the Black Knights. The hard part was not laughing about it all. Maeve had once teased that he could be a bit thick when it came to certain subtleties in her letters. Perhaps this was her way of whaping him with a metaphoric two-by-four.

He carefully climbed up and found two doors. One was open and led to a bathroom, the other was just ajar. From that room he heard the faint sound of a page turning.

Shabby was the best way to describe the space revealed in his flashlight beam. The wallpaper was partially removed, the bedstead was iron and narrow, the floor was bare, worn wood. At his elbow was a battered wooden dresser with books piled on the top. And over by the window there was a woman.

For a moment Spencer Reid forgot how to breathe.

All he could think of were ice queens and fairy tale princesses. She was delicate, fine bones, with features that could be described as elfin or fae. Her skin was quite literally the color of new fallen snow, her hair was a curtain of silk the color of new milk, when she turned toward the door her lips were the pink of rose buds and her eyes glittered like amethysts in the too harsh light.

Eyes that did not see him. "Who's there, please?" She asked. "Joshua, is that you? Silly monkey, you know you can't sneak up on me." She got up and stepped around the dresser, her hand reaching out before her to feel for the person she expected to be there. Instead it found his vest. She lightly ran her hands over the Kevlar. "Michael? What are you wearing?" She asked a look of confusion on her face.

"Um, it's not Michael." he said, and he watched the shock rise in her eyes.