The pebble-laden ground crackled under the weight of the car as it made its way over the hill to its destination. Darkness engulfed the automobile as Varlyn Stroud steered by the light of the moon and the occasional ember of a lit cigarette. From behind him, he could hear the labored breathing of the body in the backseat. Checking to make sure there was no movement from the back, Varlyn pulled over to the side of the road anxious to reflect on recent events without having to worry about watchful eyes. They were everywhere these days. Eyes racked with sorrow for the dead, eyes of distrust for the story he had told so many times now even he sometimes believed it and eyes filled with admiration for the way he had helped ensure the migrants didn't desert camp when news of massacre had spread. However, it was from the troubled eyes of Brother Justin that Varlyn truly wished to escape.

Nothing had been the same after that night of the carnival. In the immediate aftermath, he had worked with the other Knights of Jericho to clean up as much of the carnage as possible. As they had worked to erase the carnage from within the tent, Varlyn questioned whether Justin would be able to resume his role as leader. Justin had remained back at the house locked in a room refusing to see anyone. It was only after an agonizing wait that Justin had opened the door and summoned for Varlyn. He still shivered when he thought of the image that had greeted him when he entered Justin's study.

Alone at his desk, Justin had sat facing the window with his back toward Varlyn. Darkness obscured his features save for a dim desk lamp that cast just enough light to turn dark into shadow. All that Varlyn could make out was a tightly clenched fist that was dripping blood. Taking a step closer, Varlyn realized that Justin was clutching the necklace that had belonged to Iris so firmly that it had cut into the soft skin on his palm. Yet, Justin barely seemed to notice. He had spoken a mere three words that evening –"Find the girl"- but it had been enough to reaffirm Varlyn's faith in his messiah.

Dealing with the panic of the migrants had been a slightly more difficult task. This was where Iris' death had helped the cause, though Varlyn would never give such a thought voice in front of Justin. But the fact that Justin had lost a loved one that night too seemed to create an air of sympathy for Justin that overwhelmed any sense of doubt. Brother Justin had summoned everyone together under the tent and had conducted a fire and brimstone sermon the likes of which Varlyn had never before seen. Folks who had entered the tent sure of what they had seen left convinced that Brother Justin's story of evil and sorcery was gospel. The police had been a little more skeptical of Justin's claim that a migrant had been possessed by the devil and had committed unspeakable crimes. It helped that the migrant in question was willing, in fact very willing, to take responsibility for his actions and had even stood before the congregation begging for forgiveness. Besides, the police had been very willing to let the matter drop for fear that the good townsfolk might start questioning their safety.

Now, more than a week after he had been given his orders, Varlyn Stroud could finally claim success. He rolled down the window in an unsuccessful bid to cool the steamy air of the car. Not one to indulge in moments of reflection, Varlyn shifted uncomfortably as the heaviness of the silence of the night weighed upon his shoulders. He was not a man used quiet reflection and he found such times oddly disconcerting. Inhaling, he caught slight whiff lavender.

It smelled liker her.

Varlyn closed his eyes and tried to feel again how her lips had felt pressed to his. To remember the way her body had melded with his own as he had lifted her and held her against the wall. The fact that she had fought it had only increased his determination. Now sitting here alone, Varlyn felt the loss of her keenly. It had been so long since he had had a woman.

It was true, he supposed, that he could just pick another. Hell, the bitch in the back would do if sex were all he was after. No, it was something else. Varlyn took the tobacco paper from his pocket and carefully ran his tongue along the tip. As he rolled the tobacco, it dawned on him the real reason no other woman appealed to him. He had wanted to break her; to tear down her defenses until she was left vulnerable before him. He had known she was the one from the first time he had laid eyes upon her. She had shown no fear even when he had assaulted her in the hall. Surprise yes but never fear. And if there was one thing on earth Varlyn Stroud lived for it was instilling fear.

As he puffed in silence, a small moan drifted from the backseat. Irritated, he flicked the barely smoked cigarette out the window and turned to peer into the backseat. "I'll tell you what I'm gonna do," he said to the battered body of the girl in the back. "I'm gonna take you right on up to Brother J where you can tell him the same story you told me. Maybe he'll believe you. But then again, maybe he just won't care." he said the last word with such a menacing laugh that even the unconscious body in the back flinched.

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Her first thought was that she could simply run but she quickly nixed that idea based on practicality. Iris had not an inkling where they had taken her and the prospect of wandering around like a nomad had a very limited appeal. For the past week, she had kept to herself as best she could rarely leaving the trailer. Samson had seemed to sense her reluctance to assimilate with the group and had started leaving meals on the step for her. On the rare occasions when someone ventured to knock on her door, she would pretend to be asleep.

However, tonight, peering out of the window at the stars overhead, Iris Crowe felt trapped. All around her the carnival was bustling with everyone appearing to have a specific job; everyone but her. The concept of having nothing to do was foreign to Iris. For as long as she could remember, she had risen with the dawn to perform countless tasks all with the same goal in mind: to ensure that Justin would fulfill his potential. As she released her hold, Iris watched as the heavy drapes fell back in place with a gentle swoosh. The room was starting to close in on her and Iris feared for her sanity if she did not escape from her tiny area quarters. Being here, surrounded by all of that man's things, was flooding her with emotions long thought buried. Enough was enough and if ever the time was right to leave then it was tonight.

Stepping outside, Iris allowed herself to savor the feel of the slight breeze upon her hot skin. She had not realized how stuffy the trailer had been until now and she welcomed the sense of freedom being outdoors afforded her. The cover of night made her less of an oddity among the carnival people. She walked past some tents when she spied the answer to her prayers. An old jalopy was parked at the end of the road and if she was lucky, she just might be able to get it started. Just as she was about to approach the vehicle, a voice startled her.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Looking around frantically, Iris could see nothing but the darkness of light. Just then, a match was struck, and Iris could make out the faint outline of a face.

"Oh, you gave me quite a start," she gently reprimanded. "I was just taking a little stroll to get some fresh air."

"Yeah, I see where you were strolling too and I think you ought to know that thing ain't run right since I bought it. And I never leave the keys in it." He said the last part flippantly but Iris could still make out his meaning. None of them were as dumb as she had hoped.

"I just want to go home." The words came out so unexpectedly that it was hard to tell who was more surprised. As her words hung in the air between them, Iris felt the loss of all she knew come flooding over her like an ocean wave that crests higher than expected. She had lost her bother, her home and even her life's work overnight. All that remained now was a desperation to reclaim what had been taken.

Before she could help herself, her eyes flooded with tears that overflowed in a mockery to her strength. In the end, it was a vicious circle. The angrier she got at herself for crying, the harder she cried. It was as if a torrent had opened up; one that could not be closed but could only run its inevitable course.

Stumpy looked at Iris feeling decidedly uncomfortable. He liked to think he could handle a woman and in most cases he would have been right. He certainly had enough experience dealing with Rita Sue's mood swings but a crying woman. Well now, that was something altogether different. Everything within him told him to walk away. But there was something about the way he could see her railing against her own pain that kept him glued to his spot.

When her tears finally subsided, she looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. "I am sorry. I don't know what came over me." She wiped her tear-stained hands on her skirt and attempted as light smile.

"It's hard to lose the people you love." That simple statement uttered quietly and with conviction told Iris everything she needed to know about the man who stood before her. On some level, he knew; knew what it meant to be the one left behind.

"I think I had better be heading back." She started back toward the trailer and then stopped. She looked like she was making up her mind about something. Her decision made, she turned toward Stumpy and said "Thank you, Mr. Dreifuss."

"Stumpy." He watched as she swallowed hard and looked up to the sky before looking back over at him.

"No. I don't think so. You don't seem to me like a Stumpy but you do seem like a Felix."

"Well now, I suppose that is what my mama thought as well." She laughed a little and Stumpy found himself grinning for no real reason other than sheer comfort. As she bade goodnight, Stumpy called out "Hey let me ask you a question. What's the silliest thing you find yourself missing being out here?"

She considered the question for a moment before answering him seriously. "I think what I miss is having a bath every morning."

"That's a woman for you."

Shaking her head slightly at his cheekiness, Iris turned to leave. Over her should she said "Goodnight, Felix." This time the smile she gave him was sincere.