“It’s about the great awakening!” Samantha tossed up her hands. “Your oppressive minds just refuse to let you see the wisdom of His teachings!”

Vera shot a look at Chelsea. “How long has she been this bad? What the hell?”

Vera knew her tone was accusatory, but by the looks of it, Samantha needed this intervention long ago.

“If I mention it, she just digs in deeper,” Chelsea murmured, eyes downcast like she couldn’t look at either of them.

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here! You’re the ones refusing to see the true path, and you will pay the price in this life and beyond.” Samantha stood up so fast, her chair tumbled to the ground behind her. She didn’t pick it up. “You’re both Oppressives.”

She turned her back, marching through rows of tables toward the cafeteria doors. Vera grabbed Chelsea’s wrist before she could storm after her girlfriend.

“This is worse than you think. The Sunshine Crew isn’t just kooky; they’re into some really dark shit. I can’t get into how bad it is right now, but you have got to keep Samantha away from them.” Vera’s eyes locked on her friend’s, hoping to convey her seriousness.

“How do you expect me to do that? She’s a grown woman and her mother is into it.” Chelsea yanked her hand away. “Every time I try to say something, she pulls further away from me and closer to them. And thanks to what you just did, I might have lost her forever. She’s cutting everyone out of her life who isn’t a part of that group.”

“Chelsea, those Grim Reaper statues and the Sunshine Crew, they’re connected.” Vera’s tone was heavy as she searched for whatever she could reveal without sounding like they needed garlic and silver bullets.

“How do you know that?” Chelsea’s tone was disbelieving.

“Well, I don’t have proof, but it’s true. And it’s a lot worse than you realize.”

“Well, thanks for your conspiracy theories, but I can get that crap online.” Chelsea jumped to her feet and collected her and Samantha’s untouched lunch trays. “If you want to shut down TSC, you need proof. Bring me that and we can go to the cops together. In the meantime, leave Samantha alone. If she pushes me away too, then she’ll be completely lost.”

Vera sighed, rubbing her temples. That was why Chelsea was trying to shut her up. Vera had made it worse. Her fingers pressed harder. She didn’t know how to deprogram a cult member. And she didn’t know how to help Max.

Suddenly, her phone vibrated on the table, rattling against the Formica—a phone call, not a text.

She flipped it over: Father Chuck.

The screen might as well have read: Last Resort.

“Hello,” Vera answered.

“I got your message. How soon can you get here?” the priest asked.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Max

The priest wore faded blue jeans. Max didn’t know why that surprised him so much, but it did. He didn’t know what to think when Vera texted him. On one hand, finally, a priest! He’d seen The Exorcist; he knew what priests could do. On the other hand, he’d seen The Exorcist. Green bile, spinning heads, last rites.