“Won’t tell them. Won’t tell you,” he said.
“That’s a shame. I think we’d have just oodles of things to talk about. This, for instance.” Evie placed the Book of the Brethren on the table between them.
Jacob Call’s expression darkened. “Where’d you get that?”
Evie opened the book and turned the pages but didn’t offer him a glimpse. “Fascinating reading. Much better than Moby-Dick. Like this passage, for instance.”
She’d opened to the page for the eleventh offering, the Marriage of the Beast and the Woman Clothed in the Sun. She laid the book on the table and watched as Jacob Call looked on in awe.
“The ritual of the offerings. It’s begun, hasn’t it? The rise of the Beast?”
He leaned forward, placing a hand reverently on the page. “Just like the prophet seen,” he said. “When the fire burns in the sky, the chosen one will make the final offering. The Beast will rise in him, and Armageddon will begin.”
Evie’s skin crawled. She fought to keep her composure. “And the Beast comes into this world through the ritual kill—um, the offerings. Is that correct?”
Jacob Call gave a curt nod. “The world has fallen into sin. The Lord will purify it in blood through the chosen one.”
“And you are that chosen one,” Evie tried.
The man’s lip curled in contempt. “Why should I tell you? You ain’t the law or a believer. You’re just a girl.”
“Just like Ruta Badowski was a girl?” Evie snapped. She did not like Jacob Call one bit. “Tell me, did you really mail her eyes to the police as an offering to the Beast, so that he’d know you’d fulfilled the prophecy?” she bluffed.
“I-I done it. May it please the Lord.” Jacob Call wouldn’t make a very good poker player, Evie thought. In that brief, unguarded moment of surprise, he’d shown his hand—he didn’t know she was lying. He didn’t know the details of the murder.
“What about Tommy Duffy’s hands? What did you do with them?” she pressed.
Jacob Call sat stone-faced. “I’ve said all I’m a-goin’ to. I ain’t saying no more.”
“All right, then. I just want to know one more thing. That’s all, and then I’ll leave you alone. Your pendant—what does it mean?”
Jacob Call continued to sit in silence.
“Let’s blouse, Evie,” Sam said. “I hear somebody coming down the hall.”
“It’s just darling!” Evie said, deliberately goading him. “I simply must have one for myself. Where did you get it?”
“The Lord will not be mocked!” Jacob said, glaring.
“Who said anything about mocking the Lord? I just want to know the name of your jeweler. Or perhaps you’d let me buy yours….” Evie reached out a finger as if to touch the pendant, and Jacob Call pounded his fists on the table, making her jump back.
“It’s for me and me alone! And the Lord said, ‘Anoint thy flesh and prepare ye the walls of your houses. Bind your spirit to the Holy Mark and wear it upon your person always and ye shall be protected both in this life and the hereafter. But take care that the Holy Mark be not destroyed. For then shall ye sever the tie to your spirit!’ ”
“I see,” Evie said, trying not to smile. She’d gotten what she needed, though her heart was racing. “I’ll just try Tiffany’s, then. Thanks all the same.”
“What was that hooey about binding yourself to the Holy Mark?” Sam asked after they’d slipped out of the Tombs and were walking briskly back to the spot where they’d parked Will’s car.
“He seems to believe that you can tie your spirit to that pendant, that it’s some sort of magical object that allows you to live on.”
Sam let out a whistle. He shook his head. “The things people will believe. So, you think he’s our killer?”
Evie shook her head slowly. “I don’t think so. The killer didn’t send Ruta Badowski’s eyes parcel post. I made that up, and he went along with it.”
“Maybe he’s only pretending not to know.”
“Maybe,” Evie concurred, but she wasn’t convinced.
A newsie hawked the late edition on the curb. “Extra! Extra! Daily News! Pentacle Killer exclusive! Read all about it!”