Read Online The Cult by Arno Joubert - Free Book Online Page B

Garland could see the steam rise from the basin; it must have been scalding hot.
    Garland tried to recollect what had happened, but his memories were hazy, foggy tendrils shrouding the clarity he so desperately sought. Had he been drugged?  
    The memories slowly morphed into a cohesive whole, the fog lifting, like ghostly apparitions turned real, coming back to haunt him. This man standing in front of him, Father Casanellas was from the Vatican City. He had been visiting Garland’s parish to find out what had made them so, prosperous , as he had called it. Garland had welcomed the man with open arms, pleased at the prospect of expanding his business empire.
    “What are you doing?” Garland sobbed. He was feeling lightheaded and cold. He shifted his body, trying to see what he was laying upon, then gasped. It was a metal gurney, the type that coroners used to do their autopsies on, and he was laying in a pool of sticky blood. His own blood. “Oh God! What have you done to me?”  
    Casanellas hushed him. “It’s called bloodletting, cleansing your soul, purifying the lifestream, siphoning out the evil from your system.” He smiled, then cocked his head to the side, studying Garland closely. “It was a method particularly favored by the bards and druids of the early sixteenth century as an offering to the gods.” He gave a curt nod. “It has many ritualistic applications in religious ceremonies, but I simply relish the drama of it all.”  
    “Why?” Garland sobbed.
    The man pulled a piece of paper from his top pocket with a flourish and unfolded it. It was a newspaper clipping. “Bishop Warren Garland, founder of the NSSL, or News Saints of Salt Lake, has been acquitted of tax fraud.”  
    Casanellas looked up, smiled thinly and continued. “Garland was being investigated by the IRS for tax fraud to the tune of one-hundred and thirty-million dollars. In what was seen as a controversial decision by the prosecuting attorney, Mike Wendell, Judge Roland Heath overturned the IRS claim, quoting from a case that set a precedent more than a decade ago.”
    Casanellas looked up. “Here is the pertinent bit.” He read again. “The fact that followers of the NSSL claimed that they had gifted the funds raised by the NSSL’s multi-level marketing business to Garland, implied that Garland didn’t need to pay any tax at all.”
    “So what? A man of the cloth cannot be a businessman as well?” Garland groaned.
    Casanellas tsk-tsked. “I’m not saying that at all.” He folded the paper neatly and slipped it back into his pocket. “But you are blatantly deceiving your government. Ignoring our Savior’s commandment to give onto Caesar.”
    Garland snorted. “It’s called a tax loophole.”
    Casanellas folded his arms. “But are five Ferraris, eight limousines and a private jet absolutely necessary in the performance of your duties, Bishop?”
    “Fringe benefits.”
    Casanellas chuckled. “I am not going to respond to that. I am not going to respond to your answers on how you spent twenty-million dollars on a new home, but yet are unable to pay alimony to the various wives of your thirty children.”
    “They’re not my kids, polygamy isn’t allowed anymore so we were never legally married.”
    Casanellas strode over and smacked the palm of his hand down onto the gurney beside Garland’s head. “Polygamy was banned in the late nineteenth century and you knew that! You’re twisting the law to suit your corrupt behavior. You have a moral responsibility, you viper,” he shouted.
    Garland winced. “You’re not getting away with this. This is murder.”
    Casanellas smiled down at Garland, straightening his cuffs. “This isn’t murder, this is euthanasia.” He turned around and started washing his hands again. “Your true punishment shall start in your next life.”
    Garland swallowed. “C’mon, Casanellas, don’t tell me you even believe in all that afterlife bullshit.” He inhaled deeply. “Where are