The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

(Charleston, West Virginia. Now.)

Elizabeth Bowden followed her friend Shelley Caskill into the abandoned church, ducking in through a recessed side door that was left unbarricaded. Elizabeth wanted to ask how Shelley knew that the door was unlocked, but Shelley would have answered to simply trust her, her answer to every question Elizabeth had asked since they arrived. And Elizabeth did trust her friend, so she followed.

Once they were inside the church, Elizabeth forgot about asking questions, and looked up in wonder. It had been more then ten years she had not come here, but she remembered most of the details, the high arches, the columns, the attempts at merging a modern decor with antiquated aesthetics. The pews were still there, empty, gray with dust, looking forlorn and sad the way empty churches sometimes did, as if they received their life from the souls of the visiting congregants.

In her mind, she had half expected Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church to be falling to pieces, the way abandoned buildings did. But of course, it had been only a decade. She did not know exactly why the parish had decided to change location and build a new church three blocks away. The old church was still there, however, still sturdy, still filled with the memories of her youth. She could imagine turning around and seeing her mother behind her, silently urging her to keep walking until they got to her favorite pew, the third one on the far right when facing the altar. Unbidden, she felt a tear form behind her eyelids, and she fought it back. What was Shelley up to? Why did she bring her here?

Shelley walked deeper into the church, expecting Elizabeth to follow her, and Elizabeth did, knowing intuitively where her friend was leading her. She followed the blonde engineer, clad in her business attire and with her high heels clacking loudly in the echoing chamber of the hall, as she walked down the side aisle by the etchings that depicted the Stations of the Cross along the wall, etchings that had fascinated Elizabeth when she was a child.

Shelley ducked to the left at the archway, where Elizabeth knew her friend was headed. Her breathing accelerated.

She followed her friend into the smaller chapel that adjoined the larger celebration hall of the main church, and felt the need to bow her head. She was taken with the beauty of the place, despite the darkness—there were no windows in the chapel, and the modernist decor of the main church gave way to dark wood and large dark marble plates. This was the original church, she knew from her history, around which the rest of church was built later. Even the original altar was preserved, dominating the small room. Were she to look at the chapel with her adult eyes, she might have considered the room small and almost claustrophobic, but she saw it with the eyes of childhood, and all she saw was a room that brought her mother joy whenever she entered it to light a candle. Young Elizabeth always sat and watched her mother go through the motions of lighting the candle before kneeling in silence with her head bowed.

Shelley walked up to the altar and lit up three large candles that quickly brightened the chapel. Elizabeth watched her in silence, puzzled, but strangely moved that her friend had decided to bring her here on the eve of her marriage, to a place that she knew held a special significance for her. Even though Elizabeth did not know what her friend had planned, she felt gratitude.

When Shelley walked back to her, Elizabeth could not resist the impulse and hugged her friend, hugged her close and tight, and Shelley hugged her back, the two friends sharing a moment as their bodies became one under the auspice of the large crucifix sitting high on the wall behind the altar.

When Elizabeth looked up to thank her friend, although she would have been hard pressed to verbalize for what exactly, she stopped. In the corner of the chapel, there was a bed. A wide bed, with large pillows and covered with bright white satin sheets that sparkled in the light of the candles. It looked so completely out of place that Elizabeth stared at it uncomprehendingly for a long moment.

Shelley let her friend go, and Elizabeth took a step towards the incongruous display, her question both obvious and puzzling. “Shel? What... what is this?” On a chair by the wall, she saw her wedding dress, spread out and waiting for her.

Shelley did not answer, and Elizabeth barely had the time to realize something damp and foul-smelling was being pressed over her nose and mouth before the room started spinning and a veil of darkness descended upon her.

Daniel Malcolm ran.

Up ahead, his colleague Shawbank straddled the supine form of Gregory Hermann, holding what looked to Daniel like a short sword to the fallen man’s throat. She was also staring off into space, though without loosening her grip on her blade. What Daniel had feared had come true: Shawbank had been affected by the Special’s ability. Hermann could make her attack him, and he had no weapons with which to defend himself. He stopped in his tracks, and looked around for something he could use to drive her off if he needed to.

Shawbank seemed to refocus and looked down at Hermann before looking up at Daniel, moving her blade away from Hermann’s throat. At the same time, Daniel took a step backward and tapped his earpiece. “Brisecoeur,” he said. “Shawbank’s been affected by Hermann.”

“Quoi? Impossible,” the Belgian replied.

Shawbank stood and looked down at Hermann, who still looked both stunned and terrified. “It’s not him,” she said.

“What?” Daniel asked.

“She can’t be affected,” Brisecoeur said through Daniel’s earpiece. “What’s going on out there?”

“He’s not the Special,” Shawbank said. She sheathed her blade somewhere inside her leather duster, and completely ignored Hermann.

Daniel took a step back, eyeing her warily. “How the fuck can I know what’s going on?” he replied to Brisecoeur. “She jumped on Hermann, pulled out a fucking sword, and then her face went blank. She just stood up and told me he wasn’t the Special. Which is pretty much what Hermann would have her tell me, isn’t it?”

Shawbank shot Daniel a look that he could not interpret, while Brisecoeur chuckled in his ear. “Mon ami, the freak probably would have had her strip and suck his dick right then and there. No, I told you, she can’t be affected. She’s immune to freaks. She did not tell you?”

“No.”

“Why would we send a woman against a freak if she didn’t have some sort of immunity?”

“The question did cross my mind.” He looked at Shawbank, who must have been listening to their exchange. “How?” he asked her.

She shrugged. “Who knows. It happens. It’s rare, but it happens. Natural immunity to a Special’s abilities. That’s not important. We were wrong. We need to find the Special. If he’s someone close to the Bowden girl, then we may have spooked him by visiting her. He may have taken steps to flee.”

Hermann, who seemed to have realized that Shawbank was no longer interested in him after almost decapitating him, sat up on the cold floor of the garage. “You... you two weren’t sent by the Connelly brothers, were you? Who are you? What’s going on? What about Elizabeth?”

Shawbank ignore him, and walked away, talking to Brisecoeur in her earpiece.

Daniel hesitated, then helped Hermann up. “Mister Hermann, I’m sorry for the misunderstanding. This was a... regrettable error. I suggest you put this out of your mind. And... huh... good luck with the Connelly brothers. Oh, and you may want to call your administrative assistant—Meghan?—and tell her you’re fine. She seemed worried about you.” Daniel nodded to the man, and turned to follow Shawbank.

Hermann put a hand on Daniel’s shoulder to stop. “Wait! What’s going on? You were talking about Lizzie, right? What happened? Is she okay? I’m... I’m her fiancé.”

“I know, Mister Hermann. And Elizabeth’s fine.”

“You’re... you’re the guy Lizzie told me about, aren’t you? Agent Malcolm, is it? You were asking her about a bunch of her clients, something about someone wanting to hurt them, or something?”

Hermann looked and sounded flustered. Bowden must have called him after our interview, Daniel thought. “I am, Mister Hermann. My colleague and I are investigating strange occurrences surrounding some of your fiancée’s clients. There’s no reason to believe Elizabeth is in any danger. Have you noticed anything odd about any of her acquaintances, about anyone having access to her records? Anyone acting strangely?”

“No...”

“How about you? Anyone acting differently, or taking any kind of interest in her business records at work? Anyone with access to her records?”

“No... No one acting weird, or asking about her files.” Hermann paused to think. He was calming down. “As to access, that’s tougher. Kanawha is a small company, and our files are shared across most agents and secretaries. It should be possible to look at access logs though.”

“Could you get me this information?”

“Sure. It should just be a matter of contacting our IT guy. Do you think that’ll help?”

“I don’t know what will help. But the more data we have, the better.” Daniel turned when he heard a car rush up the ramp towards them, and recognized their rental, with Shawbank behind the wheel. She stopped with not quite a screech three feet away from Daniel, who got the message without ambiguity.

Daniel reached for the passenger’s side door. “We will be in touch shortly to get the access data,” Daniel said to Hermann. “Now, you’ll have to excuse me, because we’re sort of in a hurry.”

He slipped into the passenger’s seat, and only noticed when Shawbank did not gun the engine that Hermann had climbed in the back at the same time. Shawbank was staring at the actuary.

“I’m coming with you,” Hermann said, crossing his arms. “At least until I know Lizzie is safe.”

“We don’t know she’s in trouble, Mister Hermann,” Daniel said.

“Sorry, but the way she—” he nodded towards Shawbank, “jumped me when she thought I was who you two are looking for tells me you think that the guy is dangerous, and if Lizzie’s involved, she’s in danger. Have you ever had someone you love in danger, Mister Malcolm?”

Daniel withstood the blow, thinking of Jenn—kidnapped by Biff, seemingly brainwashed, possibly turned loose, and now facing who knew what, alone, vulnerable, helpless. He had no reply for Hermann. When he turned back, he saw Shawbank looking at him, studying him, reading deep into his soul.

“Fine,” she said to Hermann.

The car jumped as Shawbank gunned the engine.

“We’re taking him?” Daniel asked.

“Why not? He can be useful.” She responded to Daniel’s unspoken question. “Decoy.”

They swerved into traffic, Shawbank driving fast but precisely. Hermann remained quiet in the backseat, and Daniel glanced at him and saw him tapping his phone, undoubtedly trying to contact his fiancée.

“Where to?” Daniel asked.

“Bowden’s place.”

“She’s not there.” He remembered she had left with him, to go and meet a friend.

“I want to have a look at her records, at her place. And talk to the father.”

“The father’s not the most cooperative person around.”

“He will be,” came her curt reply.

They had been driving in silence for ten minutes, passing cars and avoiding busy intersections, when Daniel glanced at Shawbank.

“What?” asked the raven-haired agent.

“Two things. First, how did you know Hermann was not...” He did not say the word Special, since Hermann could be listening, but Shawbank understood nonetheless.

“When they touch you, there’s a tingling, subtle, like a very low-charge electric current running across the surface of your skin at the point of contact.”

“That’s why your face went blank? You were looking for the tingling?”

Shawbank nodded.

“Second question.” He paused, not knowing quite how to phrase it. “A sword? Seriously?”

For the first time since he started at ADCorp, Daniel saw what could be interpreted as the hint of a smile on Shawbank’s lips.

“A hunting knife, actually,” she said after a long silence.

When Elizabeth came to, her world was still dark, with a reddish tinge flickering at the edge of her peripheral vision. She understood simultaneously that she was lying down looking up at the chapel’s vaulted ceiling, and that she could neither move nor talk—her arms and legs were tied in an X shape, and there was something in her mouth gagging her. She tried to scream, but all that came out was a muffled whisper.

“Looks like my Beloved is awake, pet,” said a voice she recognized.

She lifted her head as much as she could, noticing at once that she was tied up in the bed that she had seen in the corner of the chapel, that the flickering light came from a row of large candles surrounding her, and that her stepfather was standing at the foot of the bed, a smile on his face.

Her stepfather was standing at the foot of the bed. It took several seconds before her brain, still muddled from whatever it was that made her black out, reacted from the incongruity of the observation.

Craning her neck further to confirm what she could not believe, that the man she had always known as wheelchair bound was indeed standing on his own legs, Elizabeth received another shock.

Kneeling at her stepfather’s feet, her blonde head bobbing up and down in a movement that Elizabeth knew all too well, Shelley was in the middle of a noisy blow job. Elizabeth’s head fell back on the bed. She felt sick to her stomach. She did not understand anything. This is a dream. It must be. She closed her eyes, willing herself awake.

“Stop, pet. Your Lord’s seed is destined for the Ceremony. Go attend to my Beloved, while I get ready.”

There was a loud slurping sound, and Elizabeth heard her friend’s voice. “Yes, my Lord. I’ll make sure the little slut is wet and ready.”

Before Elizabeth could wrap her head around what her friend had just said, there was a loud slap and a cry of pain. “Don’t you dare insult her,” said her stepfather, angry, “you stupid little worm! Before the day is done you will please her like you please me. And I will make you crawl at her feet and beg her to make you feel an ounce of pleasure! Now go attend her!”

“Y... Yes, my Lord... I’m sorry, my Lord,” scrambled Shelley.

“And strip! You will be naked to perform the Ceremony.”

“Yes, my Lord. My body is yours to do as you will.”

Shelley’s heels clacked on the stone floor, and Elizabeth figured that her friend was beside her, and she turned her head and opened her eyes. Shelley was taking off her shirt, her skirt pulled up to her waist revealing a lack of panties, and only a pair of thigh-high stockings.

Elizabeth screamed through her gag to try to get Shelley’s attention, and it is only when the blonde had stripped off her skirt and her stockings and stood completely naked next to the tied-up redhead that she saw that Elizabeth was looking at her.

“Hi Lizzie. Sorry about the gag, but my Lord was worried that you would not understand and would cause a scene. I promise I’ll take it off soon.”

Elizabeth tried to tell her to let her go, to ask her to explain what was happening, but all she should do was groan through her gag.

Shelley may have realized what Elizabeth was trying to do, or the panicked expression in the redhead’s eyes may have simply been clear enough for her to pick up on the struggle, because the blonde leaned over the bed where her friend was tied up, and gently ran a hand on the side of Elizabeth’s face.

“Don’t struggle, sweetie. You have no idea the delights you are about to experience. Soon, my Lord will be your Lord, and he will fuck you, and it will feel like God Himself is entering you and bestowing heavenly pleasure and you will feel like you are being killed and reborn at the same time, over and over again.” Shelley’s eyes glazed over as she turned her gaze inward and shuddered at the memories.

Elizabeth struggled with her bonds. Shelley leaned further down and kissed her friend on the forehead. “And we will be together, sweetie.” She gave Elizabeth a quick lick on the side of the face. “I will be my Lord’s pet, his slave, willing to do the most perverted things to get him all hot and bothered and unable to resist fucking me like the slut I am; and you will be his wife, his beloved, his concubine, also willing to do the vilest things to please him and revere him and get him to fuck you over and over again.”

Shelley’s tongue ran up from Elizabeth’s chin to her eye, savoring the tears that had started to trickle down the redhead’s. She’s gone crazy! thought Elizabeth, now trying her best to pull off the ropes or whatever it was that tied her to the bed posts.

“It’s okay sweetie,” soothed Shelley. “I know it’s hard to conceive, but soon, after I marry you to my Lord, you will understand exactly what I mean. Now, though, I have to get you ready for my Lord to claim you.” She smiled a naughty smile.

Shelley straightened and went to the foot of the bed, and climbed on. Shelley ran her hands up the redhead’s legs, sheathed in white stockings.

Elizabeth took a moment to concentrate and realized she had been dressed in her wedding dress, complete with stockings and her high-heeled shoes. Except that in order for her legs to be spread like that...

“You’ll have to forgive me,” Shelley said, as if to complete Elizabeth’s thought. “But I’ve had to cut up the skirt of your dress to put you in the proper position. In a way, it’s much better now. I told you you should have gone with a shorter dress.” She ran her hands up Elizabeth’s thighs, caressing, demanding, teasing. “You do look hot as hell with that dress open up to your waist and your legs spread with like this.”

Elizabeth could tell she had no underwear on, which Shelley confirmed by running her soft hand over the redhead’s pussy lips, sending shivers up Elizabeth’s spine. She was not turned on—she could not be turned on—despite the fact that it was Shelley looming over her, her Shelley, with whom she had played submission games back in college; her Shelley, who more than once had tied her up just like this and teased her and aroused her and drove her mad with lust. All of these memories fought it out with the fear that was gripping her at the base of her stomach and urged her to scream out and kick and run. This was not a fantasy; she was tied up and about to be offered to her stepfather—her stepfather—by her best friend. Elizabeth struggled as much as she could, feeling her wrists and her ankles scrape themselves bloody under her efforts. Tears were now streaming down her face, unbidden. She felt so alone.

Shelley shushed her friend. “Don’t fight it, sweetie. You’ll see, it’ll be wonderful.” Elizabeth could not see her friend but could feel the blonde had crouched down between her legs as she felt her breath on her crotch. Shelley’s hands were on Elizabeth’s thighs, caressing and pressing them apart.

“You’ve got such a beautiful cunt, Lizzie,” Shelley said, blowing softly, making Elizabeth stiffen. “It’s all nice and red and puffy. My Lord is going to love plowing into it for the first time.” She ran her tongue up Elizabeth’s pussy lips, who tried to struggle away but could not, and Shelley’s grip on her thighs was strong. “God you taste good!” She licked again, more deeply this time, and before long she was tonguing her friend’s pussy with all of her skill, the way she had done so many times before.

“Is she ready, pet?”

Shelley raised her head. “She’s not very wet, my Lord, but if you give me a few—”

“No. She will be wet enough when the time comes.”

Elizabeth heard a slap of a hand hitting flesh, and Shelley’s yelp of surprise. “Are you going to fuck me now, my Lord?” Shelley said, and Elizabeth cringed at the tone of supplication in her friend’s voice. What’s going on? What’s he done to her?

“Shut up, pet.” Elizabeth heard Shelley’s sharp intake of breath and the low guttural moan that escaped her throat. “There,” her stepfather said—Elizabeth still could not see him from her position. “You’re going to keep that in your ass for the Ceremony, pet. It will remind you of your position.”

“Can... can you shove it in my cunt, my Lord? P.... Please? It’s been so long...”

“No.” Another slap. “You’d enjoy it way too much. If you’re good, pet, I’ll reconsider. Now take your position.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Shelley reentered Elizabeth’s field of vision, and climbed on the bed above Elizabeth’d head. Elizabeth saw the large end of a butt plug sticking out of her friend’s rear, and she felt fear all over again. Meanwhile, her stepfather climbed between her legs. He wore a loose white robe, folded over one of his shoulder, and he looked at her with what could only be considered love. Elizabeth thought she even saw a tear in his eyes. She shook her head, and screamed at him, and he merely looked at her with a smile, unmoved by her mumbling through the gag.

“Annette—we are about to be united once more. A second chance. And I will be able to satisfy you now, for I am now more than a man—for I am now a God. I know you do not understand yet, but you will. Soon, you will join me as my Beloved, my Lady, and you will sit at my right, and we will rule our Ministry with Love and Compassion and we will squash the roaches who run rampant in this decadent world.”

Annette? The name registered through her panic. Mom?

Her stepfather hovered above her, running his eyes over her body, but seemed to be making an effort not to touch her. His cock was hard and large and was pointed straight at her, half a foot away from her crotch. He was stroking it lightly, keeping it hard.

“Shelley, my pet,” he told the blonde kneeling on the bed a foot away from Elizabeth’s head, “begin the Ceremony.”

Shelley cleared her throat, and in a voice she meant to be official, she intoned, “We are gathered here today to witness and celebrate the union of my Lord and Annette O’Hara in marriage. With love and commitment, they have decided to live their lives together as husband and wife.”

Elizabeth struggled against her bonds, only managing to hurt herself further in the process. He thinks I’m my mother? Shelley! Please! Stop him! Help me!

“Do you, my Lord, take Annette O’Hara to be your consecrated wedded wife, promising to love and cherish, through joy and sorrow, and to guide her in the path of the Righteous, and to exalt her in the glory of Womanhood, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” came her stepfather’s reply. He was looking straight at Elizabeth, his vision clouded by love and lust and dreams of the past.

Shelley looked down at Elizabeth, and ran a hand down her face once more, a gentle hand. “It’s your turn now, sweetie,” she said softly. “My Lord, if you will?”

Elizabeth shivered as she felt her stepfather press the head of his cock against her pussy lips.

When Shawbank and Daniel, with Hermann in tow, arrived at Elizabeth Bowden’s residence, her car was still gone.

Shawbank rang the bell, and the nurse, Doreen, answered the door. “Is Miss Bowden in?” Shawbank asked. Daniel and Hermann remained in the background.

“She’s out,” answered the nurse, frowning, and subtly placing her body to block the door.

“And Mister Bowden?”

“He’s sleeping.”

“We want to talk to him.”

“He’s sleeping.” The nurse’s voice was harsher.

“Please, Doreen, it’s important,” Hermann said.

The nurse looked surprised to see him. “Mister Hermann!” she said as her eyes shifted from him to Daniel, whom she recognized from a few hours earlier. “I’m sorry,” she said to the fiancé of her charge’s stepdaughter, “I did not see you there. Elizabeth is not here. She went to see her friend Shelley. Something to do with the wedding tomorrow.”

“It’s okay, Doreen. Do you mind letting us in? These agents would really like to speak with Lizzie’s father.”

The nurse shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mister Hermann. But Mister Bowden is sleeping, and he made it very clear that no one was to disturb him. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you all to leave. I’ll tell Elizabeth to call you when she gets back.”

“I’m afraid we’re going to have to insist,” Shawbank responded.

Daniel cringed at Shawbank’s tone of voice. He half expected her to pull out her sword—hunting knife my ass, he thought.

“And I’m afraid I’m going to have to call the police if you do not leave—”

Shawbank moved like lightning. The palm of her left hand connected with the nurse’s chin with a dry knocking sound, and the nurse’s head jerked backwards before her eyes rolled back and her knees gave out

Daniel had barely any time to reach over and keep the tall woman from falling onto the tiles lining the entryway.

“What the hell?” he snapped at Shawbank.

“Where’s the father’s room?” she asked Hermann, ignoring Daniel.

Hermann sputtered. “Down... down the hall. Second—no, third door on the right.”

Shawbank went in, pulling her long knife out of her jacket. “Tie her up, and check the top floor,” she told Daniel. “Don’t trust any female, even Elizabeth if she’s actually here.”

“And what do I do if I find any?”

“Feel free to disable them before asking questions.” She disappeared into the bowels of the house, ready for anything.

“Wow,” Hermann said, with wonder in his voice.

“Yeah,” Daniel echoed, with less wonder and a frown. “Help me with Doreen, and then let’s look around.”

After they had laid out the unconscious nurse on the living room couch, and restrained her up with zip ties Daniel had in his pockets, they confirmed that the second floor of the house was empty.

They joined Shawbank in James Bowden’s room, and found her standing in the middle of the center rug, her knife sheathed, looking around with a careful eye.

“Anything?” Daniel asked when her eyes landed on him.

“What do you see?” Shawbank asked back.

Daniel looked. The room was large and unencumbered, which in retrospect he should have expected with a disabled occupant in a wheelchair. The bed was of the adjustable kind found in recovery rooms of hospitals, covered with a dark grey quilt. A few short bookshelves lined one of the walls, a low dresser and a small desk without a chair the others. A small television with associated videocassette recorder sat atop the dresser. A wheelchair rested next to the desk. Framed pictures lined the wall above the bookshelves.

Hermann looked along with Daniel. “It’s his room.”

“You’ve been here before?” Shawbank asked him.

“Yeah. Not often, but I’ve been here. Sometimes Doreen needs a hand to help him out of bed or something.”

“Notice anything odd?”

Hermann looked around some more. “Not really.”

Daniel answered. “The wheelchair.”

“Huh?” Hermann said.

“The wheelchair. Elizabeth’s father’s wheelchair. It’s here.” Daniel pointed.

“Oh. But how...?”

“Does the nurse have a car?” Shawbank asked Hermann.

“Yes... a grey Ford Escort, I think.”

“Go see if it’s still here.”

Hermann hesitated, looked at the wheelchair again, uncomprehending, then at Shawbank, and then left the room in a hurry.

“You think the father was faking?”

“Yes and no. We’d have to know exactly what kind of injury Bowden received, but if it had a neurological component, he could have recovered. Specials’ abilities are likely neurological in nature, and cases where nerve connections were restored or augmented have been reported.” She pulled out a small vial of pills from her pocket, tossed it to Daniel.

“Viagra?” he asked.

“Probably. Found it taped underneath the desk.”

“So he was sexually active?”

“Or wanted to be.”

Daniel thought about it. “That still doesn’t rule out he was just faking being disabled for some strange reason.”

“You saw the nurse downstairs. If he was faking, she was in on it. And there’s that.” She stared at a spot high on the wall above the bed, to a cross-shaped pale discoloration on the wall.

“A crucifix?”

“Removed recently, or at least, after the last time the room was painted.”

“And why is that significant?”

“A common progression for Specials with sufficient power is to develop a God complex. It sometimes causes them to turn against their old religion when they’re devout.”

At that moment Hermann came back into the room, winded. “It’s... the car’s gone.”

Shawbank nodded. “He took it.”

“But he’s handicapped!” Hermann protested.

“Was Bowden Senior religious?” Shawbank asked him.

“What? Yes. Yes he was. Profoundly Lutheran. It galled him that I was Catholic. But Elizabeth didn’t care. Her mother was Catholic before converting.”

Shawbank nodded, and took a step towards the wall with the pictures. Daniel followed her gaze. Aside from one picture of a group of military men in what looked like a desert setting, all of the pictures featured a stunning redhead that Daniel thought was Elizabeth until he saw one picture with that woman standing next to a younger Bowden in his wheelchair that was clearly taken at their wedding, in front of a church. A little red-haired girl stood next to the woman.

“This is Elizabeth’s mother, isn’t?” Daniel asked Hermann.

“Yes. Annette. She looks just like Lizzie, doesn’t she? Lizzie even started wearing her hair the way her mother used to. She never said, but I think it gives her a sense that her mom’s still alive. They were close, before she died.”

While Shawbank studied the pictures, Daniel turned to the television, and saw an empty videocassette box next to it. Inserting his fingers into the recorder slot, he felt for a cassette, and found one. He pressed a button to turn on the television—keeping the volume down—and started the tape.

A homemade recording showed up on the screen, capturing a wedding ceremony. The sound quality made it difficult to hear exactly what was going on, but the camera was pointed at a couple being wed in a small chapel, the same couple as in the picture, James Bowden in his wheelchair, and Annette O’Hara, Elizabeth’s mother, radiant in her long white wedding dress. The image had that vaguely faded quality that suggested that the tape had been played too often.

Shawbank frowned, and exchanged a glance with Daniel. “When did Elizabeth’s parent marry?” Shawbank asked Hermann.

“Er... Twenty years ago today, actually.” At Daniel’s curious glance, Hermann elaborated. “I know the date because Lizzie wanted to get married around the same date as her parents, but not exactly on the same date. The only time that fit was the day after—tomorrow—and this means that today would have been their wedding anniversary.”

Daniel saw the look on Shawbank’s face, and did not like it. “What are you thinking?” he asked her.

Shawbank looked at him. “I think he’s with her.”

“Her? Elizabeth, you mean?”

“Yes. And that he has designs on her.”

Daniel groaned. He had reluctantly come to the same conclusion. “You’re thinking he wants to recreate his wedding?”

“He has that power. Why would he not use it?”

“He’s her father.”

“Stepfather. He’s also convinced he’s a god.”

“We don’t know that.”

“True.”

Hermann was looking from Shawbank to Daniel and back, uncomprehending. “What are you two talking about? What do you mean, designs? What’s going on here?”

“Okay, let’s say that’s what’s happening. Where would he take her?” Daniel asked Shawbank.

She looked at the picture of the couple in their wedding regalia standing in front of a church.

“Where did Elizabeth’s parents get married?” she asked Hermann.

“I want you to tell me what’s going on!”

She stared at him. “Do you want to see your fiancée again?”

“Y...Yes—”

“Then tell me where her parents were married. Where is that church?” She pointed to the framed picture.

“That’s... that’s the old Lutheran church on Washington Street.”

Shawbank started for the door, thumbing her earpiece. “Brisecoeur? Can you do a cell GPS search?”

“Sure,” Daniel heard Brisecoeur reply in his own earpiece.

Daniel and Hermann followed Shawbank down the hallway and out of the house. “What’s Elizabeth’s cell phone number?” she asked Hermann. She passed it along to Brisecoeur when he recited it. “But she’s not picking up her phone,” Hermann added.

When they got to the car, Brisecoeur had to report that the cell phone number had no associated GPS coordinates.

“It’s an old cell phone,” said Hermann, apologetic.

“She was supposed to go meet her friend Shelley,” Daniel said. “Maybe they’re together.”

“Do you have Shelley’s number?” Shawbank asked Hermann, as she put the car in gear and started down the street.

“Yes, hold on.” He looked at his own phone, and recited the string of numbers which Shawbank relayed to Brisecoeur.

Brisecoeur reported two minutes later that the cell phone associated with that number was currently located at the Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church on Washington Street in Charleston, West Virginia.

“Bingo,” said Shawbank, her voice her usual neutral.