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Scene #57
Father Patrick's body writhed on the floor as he bled out. But he
was detached from that body—that pain—now as death approached. His
vision blurred as his sight failed but he could still make out the
creature standing over him in his office. It looked like a teenage
boy but its eyes were completely black. Soulless. And the
evil watched him die with glee. “Just tell us where she is,
priest, and I promise it'll end quickly.” The thing—whatever it
was—rocked back on its haunches, body loose and preternaturally
graceful. The military dagger in its hand dripped blood on the
floor and the creature's tongue licked the length of the blade, the
movement erotic. Horror sliced through Patrick.
Abruptly, the gruesome blade streaked through the air and
disappeared in Patrick's arm. Spasms exploded along his spine and
then raced through his body. “Come now, Father. You are
making this entirely too difficult.” The man who'd been a
spectator through the earlier torture spoke softly, but Patrick
flinched as if he'd yelled. When the man and the boy arrived at
the rectory this afternoon, begging for refuge, there had been no
overt threat; the man walked with a limp and the boy looked to be
in his teens. A rash mistake, judging others by appearance.
The spectator, clearly in charge, continued but his tone switched
from coaxing to impatient. “Tell us where the girl is and maybe we
won't kill her. We just want the Key.” “Even though I walk
through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil for You
are with me.” The prayer lacked volume but he doubted that
mattered. The creature's tongue ran along the edge of
Patrick's earlobe before he hissed. “There are some evils you
should fear, priest.” Tamping down on his terror, Patrick
swallowed and tasted the blood in his mouth. But the same stubborn
streak that kept him from giving them information earlier rose up
in him again. A wheeze of breath allowed him to speak words that
set fire to his throat. “Go to hell.” The spectator chuckled
as the creature beside him smirked. “Ah, but Father, he's just
left.” The man nodded once to the evil beside Patrick. The
ending slash of the knife was bliss, followed immediately by the
sound of the closing door. They didn't even bother to watch him
die. Light pierced his body, beckoning him, and he mourned
the loss of Sarah's life more than his own. He'd remained silent,
denied them the information they wanted, but they'd sacked his
desk, his rooms. They had enough to find her, he was certain. He
poured his regret into his prayers. Sarah, Sarah, she'll die…
Sarah…. It could have been hours or seconds, but when his
eyes opened again, a glow encompassed him and an ethereal face with
iridescent eyes like mother of pearl appeared. He used his
last moments to beg. Sarah, she'll see them. My fault. They'll
use her. She'll know. Sarah…. Don't let her die…. “We will
protect her from this evil. Go in peace.” And he did.
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