Eric relaxed a little when he noted that no crucifixes were on display in this lounge which was serving as a meeting room. Not that the symbol worried him personally, but many in his community, particularly ex-Catholics, were highly allergic to crosses, Bibles and holy water. As a matter of fact, he had no love for holy water himself.
The mature females that Jacko had pointed out certainly were highly acceptable to him: with them he could slake more than his appetite for blood.
The odd thing was that the exuberance that filled the place, and what seemed to him a sort of hysterical stupidity bubbling under the surface, calmed Eric’s ferocious appetites for the moment. He could soon be lashing out to quench his thirst, he knew that. But there was also the long-term aspect to consider. He could see how such sheep as these could be led into infernal meadows of his own. They seemed to him to be the kind of human material that ought to swell the ranks of his own movement, never mind the Supreme Godhead Outreach Church.
Yes, he had a scheme for a broader venture than merely savaging a damsel or pocketing cash. (Jacko had no way of knowing that cash was something about which Eric had no anxieties whatsoever.)
After the talk the whole assembly gave forth with a sustained burst of clapping, followed by the reading of a few announcements. Then the tea urn was wheeled in and cakes and biscuits were served.
‘I’ll get some of that,’ said a fellow who had been sitting a couple of rows in front of them. He had been squirming about in his seat as if he had something to get off his chest, but he never spoke a word during the debating session.
‘You know something, I don’t think they’re true believers at all. I wonder if they even pray,’ he said.