Chapter 1: It came upon a midnight clear…
Footsteps echoed in the silent house of God. Despite his best
efforts to be silent, she could sense the presence of the youth fast
approaching her. His firm hand quickly touched her black satin shrouded form.
"Miss, I’m afraid I’m about to be closing for the
night," said the dark haired young priest.
She looked up at him a wistfully. "What times we live in
that we must lock away our holy places."
"I’m afraid it is a dangerous time we live in," he
answered offering his hand. He helped her rise from pew. She ran her black
gloved hand along it’s polished cherry finish. "I’m sorry to have kept you
so late on Christmas Eve, father," she smiled genially.
"Christmas by now, but it was no trouble. I was just
tidying up a bit; putting things in order. I confess I feel a little guilty
putting you out. You seemed so absorbed in worship," the clergyman
admitted.
"A confession for me, that is a change of pace," the
woman quipped. The young priest laughed at the pun amiably. He was an
attractive man with large dark brown eyes and chiseled muscular features. His
dark brown hair was wavy and just a little unruly an apparently recent trim
notwithstanding. Altogether it was a likable, warm face. His coat draped over
his left arm he led her to one of the church’s side doors.
"On your way to a party," he asked in a personable
tone, pulling on his heavy wool coat. She gazed down at the long royal blue
evening gown and black fur trimmed satin cloak she wore.
"Decided to skip one actually. What gave me away?" She
chuckled.
"Not so many people attend mass in formal wear these days,
" he laughed.
"Speaking of mass, your homily was very moving father
um?" she complemented as they stepped outside.
"Father O'Neil, You can call me Father Sean. Must of the
younger members of our congregation call me that," he said as he locked
the last door behind them.
"Catherine Fletcher, " she responded extending a
gloved hand. He took it giving it a firm shake.
"Can I walk you to your car Miss Fletcher, the hour is late
and I’m afraid our parish is not in the safest of neighborhoods.
"I came by taxi, " she answered.
"Let me call you a cab then, " he offered sincerely.
"That’s alright there’s a stand just up the street I can
catch one there she said looking strait into his eyes. He found himself
mesmerized by her clear liquid blue eyes.
"Good Night Father Sean," she said walking away.
"Merry Christmas Miss Fletcher," he waved as she
walked away. He watched her strolling away growing smaller in the distance. A
small black dot against a filed of white.
It was snowing. He cursed himself silently for allowing the
beautiful young woman to walk of alone. Particularly dressed as she was. He had
told her that Saint- Paul’s was not in the safest of neighborhoods. The truth was
it was in one of the poorest and most crime ridden in the city. It was perilous
to walk alone at night in the area. The way she had been dressed, she would
very likely be sited by thieves as easy prey. He should have insisted, but when
she had looked at him he had found her angelic face impossible to refuse.
He turned making his way down the short narrow path to the
presbytery. He looked forward to the imminent construction of the corridor,
which would link the two building the next summer. Not only was the walk
between the church and the priests living quarters slippery and cold in the
winter, especially for the aging Father Vitalli, who was in his mid seventies;
but Sean did not feel safe there alone at night.
As if reading the fears from his very heart, hands grabbed him
roughly from behind pulling into the bushes. He felt the sharp sting of a blade
against his throat. He could smell the alcohol on the man’s breath as the
gentle breeze carried it up to him. The man yanked the watch of Sean’s wrist. The
watch had been a graduation present from Sean’s grandparents.
"No sudden moves man. Hand over your wallet, " ordered
a slurred voice, its owner twisted the priest’s arm behind his back.
"I don’t have it with me," the father told him. It was
the truth. What reason would he have to carry it between the church and his
room? The thug bent his arm back painfully making him gasp.
"What about the dough in the collection?" his friend
asked stepping out from his concealment in the shadows. "It being
Christmas Eve an all I’m sure folk were damn generous."
"I don’t have it, " he pleaded. Father Raymond had
locked it away first thing after mass securely in the office safe. He felt the
knife bite into his skin and warm blood drizzle down his neck.
"Don’t fuck with us man or we’re gonna cut you up real
good," the man behind him screamed.
"Please I swear to you, I do not have it. You have my word
as a man of God. I don’t have any money on me," he begged.
"Man of God," the man in front of him howled. His eyes
were clouded with rage and the drugs that were coursing through his body. He
ripped the tiny gold crucifix from around the young cleric's neck, punching him
in the middle as he did so. The man behind him held Sean tightly as his
companion began to beat Father O’Neil viciously.
"You know you go to hell automatically for that," came
a low female voice from behind.
In a whirl of motion the young captive priest saw his tormentor
hurled against a wall. Upon seeing his stringy companion sprawled on the cold
ground, Sean’s captor roughly tossed him aside, and advanced on his new
adversary.
Father saw the shock in the blood shot eyes as the greasy haired
unshaven fellow saw that it was young woman who had thrashed his friend. Sean
saw him hoisted in the air, held by a single ebony gloved hand.
The hood off the black cape blowing off in the wind, he beheld
the now flaming red eyes. She barred her teeth at the terrified struggling
youth, revealing the sharp extended canines. The thief began to scream. Sean
saw the delicate fingers around the mugger’s neck contract, and tighten.
"These are holy grounds you will never again set foot here.
You will in fact be deeply repulsed by this place. You will never again try to
do these good people harm. In fact the very idea of hurting one of these people
will fill you with a horrible feeling of dread," the youthful priest heard
the voice he had been conversing with earlier in the evening say.
"I won’t come here again. I wouldn’t even want to. I won’t
hurt these folks ever again, " the hoodlum said in a emotionless tone.
"That’s right, now go away," she ordered tossing him
several feet. "And take our friend with you."
With a Herculean strength born out of pure terror the drunken
man half carried half dragged his accomplice away, dropping him on several
occasions along the way.
She watched them go. Only after she was satisfied that they were
gone did she turn her blazing red gaze to father Sean. He knelt in the snow
horrified, but too entranced to move.
She closed her eyes, her brow knotting in concentration. When
she opened them they were once again the peaceful blue that he remembered.
"Are you all right father?" she asked taking a step
towards him.
"St.. Stay away from me," he quaked in revulsion.
"Sean, " she soothed.
"Demon, stay away," he cried. "Our Lord who art
in heaven, " he implored his eyes to the heavens, as she came upon him.