6. Chloe
Six
Chloe
Seated in the very back pew of the cathedral, I shift restlessly with the other parishioners, waiting for Mass to begin.
It’s been more than an hour since Father Dominic arrived, but there’s been no sign of him.
The cathedral was nearly full thirty minutes ago but it’s now slowly emptying with each passing minute.
Out of the corner of my eyes, I watch as one by one those who came to worship grow impatient and slip out the front doors.
And for the first time in my life, I’m half-tempted to join them.
Partly because I’m not looking forward to what comes after Mass, and partly because the hour grows late.
The sun will set soon, and I need to be home well before then.
Focusing on the stained-glass windows and the depictions of angels and the Virgin Mary, I try to find the peace and serenity I usually experience whenever I come to pray and worship.
This is God’s house, and I always feel the closest to Him here, with His eyes upon me.
But today I only feel a growing sense of unease.
So many other things have already gone wrong today, I start to question whether I should have stayed home.
Were they signs? Was God warning me?
Was I too self-involved and obtuse to take heed of them?
Watching the windows darken, their bright, bold colors dimming until they’re muted by the inner lighting, instead of praying for strength and protection I find myself praying for the service to begin.
Twenty more minutes pass by despite my prayers before Father Dominic finally makes his appearance.
Gowned from neck to toe in a billowing robe that’s so crimson it looks as if it was soaked in fresh blood, he marches slowly up the aisle, chanting, until he reaches the pulpit.
At once the cathedral falls silent. The quiet murmurings and whispers evaporating at his mere presence.
Offering a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, Father Dominic quickly apologizes for the late start and jumps right into his sermon.
Despite his old age and grumpy demeanor, Father McCall’s sermons are usually uplifting, reminding us of God’s love and the power we have as His children to change our world.
I always feel rejuvenated after his sermons, and renewed, as if I’ve somehow been refreshed.
Father Dominic’s sermon is the complete opposite. It’s full of guilt and a reminder of all our weaknesses.
I endure his eyes boring into me, singling me out, as he preaches that we are born in sin and one stray step will take us forever away from the path of righteousness.
His voice booms through the cathedral as he talks about the evil that has corrupted our world and our failure to stop it.
When Mass finally comes to an end over an hour later, I don’t feel the least bit renewed or rejuvenated.
I feel like I did when I woke up from that awful dream.
Wicked and tainted.
The cathedral empties quickly, the few that remained for the service eager to get home before full dark.
Suffering the same urgency, I rise from the pew, prepared to quickly complete my duties.
Only to be stopped by Sister Susan halfway to the altar.
Stepping in front of me to block my path, she places her hand on my arm and frowns with concern. “Chloe, the hour grows late. I think you should head home now.”
I know it’s late. The sun is setting at this very moment. I don’t even need the windows to tell me what time it is…
I’m aware of the night.
The weight of the darkness is settling into my veins and it feels like my blood is rushing to my head.
“I think not,” Father Dominic says behind me.
“But it’s already dark…” Sister Susan tries to argue for me, her hand gripping my arm tighter.
“Even more reason for her not to skip her sacrament,” Father Dominic says with finality as he comes to stand beside me.
Glancing at Sister Susan’s hand on my arm, his upper lip curls up and his eyes fill with disdain.
Spine stiffening, Sister Susan lifts her chin and glares at him. “The sacrament can wait a few days. God will not think less of her for it, given the situation.”
Eyes narrowing, Father Dominic returns her glare. “How quick you are to speak for God, Sister Susan. When were you granted this authority?”
Sister Susan seems to falter, her mouth opening and closing as she thinks of a response.
Then she says with less confidence, “We are all His children.”
“Indeed, we are,” Father Dominic agrees with annoyance, “but not all of His children have the authority to speak for Him. When were you granted the authority?”
Lips pressing together in a thin line, Sister Susan looks over at me before admitting, “I wasn’t, not by the church, but I think—”
“What you think is irrelevant,” Father Dominic says dismissively.
Her cheeks flushing with color from frustration, Sister Susan turns fully toward me and away from him. “Chloe, you don’t have to do this tonight. I assure you, God will not think less of you.”
Father Dominic makes a sound of disgust. “How sure you are, and how quick you are to lead her to damnation.”
Sister Susan flinches at the remark, and I instantly feel guilty that she’s trying to stick up for me again.
Especially because in this situation it’s not needed.
Father Dominic is correct. I need to perform the sacrament before I leave tonight.
But not because I fear God’s judgement.
I need to do it because it’s the only hope I have of making it home in one piece.
Placing my hand over Sister Susan’s, I say, “Thank you for your concern, Sister Susan, but Father Dominic is right. I need to fulfill my duty.”
Gently, I pull her hand off my arm.
A look of pained confusion passes over Sister Susan’s face as she lets her arm fall down to her side.
Then she turns toward Father Dominic, her eyes full of wrath. “If something happens to her…”
“It will be God’s will.” Father Dominic smiles at her and motions for me to follow him. “Come, Chloe, the hour does indeed grow late.”
Knowing I’m not worthy to walk beside him, I follow one step behind Father Dominic as he leads to the stairs that lead to the basement.
* * *
The Offering of the Cursed is a sacred ritual performed privately between a priest and a marked woman.
As far as I know, no other has ever been present to see what occurs.
Or what we give up weekly to keep our souls.
Even if a nun or another clergyman were to receive an invitation to bear witness, I’d doubt they’d be inclined to accept.
While the ritual is private and sacred, rumors aplenty circulate about its brutality.
More than one priest has fainted or returned sickened after learning the rites. A few have even run off, never to be seen again.
Not all have the stomach to carry out the duty.
Besides Father McCall, Father Dominic is the only other priest I’ve ever done the ritual with.
And just like their sermons, the way they perform the sacrament couldn’t be more different.
Father Dominic takes his sweet time with me, relishing in my suffering. Perversely enjoying my humiliation.
Each lash of the whip is delivered with careful, strategic thought to the placement. Each slice of the knife cuts a little deeper than needed.
By the time I find myself stumbling up the basement steps, I know more than another hour has passed.
It’s full dark now, and all the night’s evil creatures will be out to play, but a least I’m a little lighter .
My burden has been significantly lessened.
As soon as I open the door that leads to the area behind the altar, I see Sister Susan pacing back and forth with her brow pinched in worry.
“Chloe!” she cries out in shock once her eyes land on me.
Rushing over to me, she grabs me by both arms and stares at my face with a look of horror that slowly melts into anger.
“ You …” she hisses over my shoulder.
Stepping around us, Father Dominic finishes wiping my blood off his hands then tucks the white cloth he used into his crimson sleeve.
Smiling at Sister Susan’s look of outrage, he says, “It’s time for our charge to be on her way, Sister Susan. Please see her out.”
Shaking her head in disbelief, Sister Susan releases me and turns, standing in front of me like she’s guarding me from him. “It’s well after dark.”
“Indeed,” Father Dominic says, his smile growing wider. “Even more reason for her to be on her way. It’s no longer safe for her to be here.”
Sweeping her arm out toward the front doors, Sister Susan exclaims, “It’s not safe for her out there!”
The smile slipping from his lips, Father Dominic’s expression becomes cold and hard. “You know the rules as well as I do. For her safety and ours , she cannot stay here."
“Rules?” Sister Susan repeats incredulously. “Now you care about the rules? You paid them no heed when you decided to show up so late…”
Red beginning to creep up his neck, Father Dominic says defensively, “That was not my fault. That was God’s will.”
Sister Susan scoffs, and my heart jumps up into my throat.
Afraid that she’s about to say something blasphemous, I reach out and touch her arm. “Sister Susan, I’d like to go now.”
The longer I linger here, listening to them argue, the more dangerous my journey home becomes.
If I leave now, I might be able to avoid detection.
Sister Susan jerks in surprise then glances back at me. “Are you sure? You don’t have to…”
We both know that’s not true, and even if it was, I’m not sure I’d want to stay here, regardless.
I’ll probably regret thinking this later, but at this point I’d rather take my chances with the vampires than suffer an entire night in Father Dominic’s presence.
“I’m sure,” I assure Sister Susan, and withdraw my hand, purposely avoiding looking at Father Dominic.
I can feel his gaze upon me though, burning into me with wicked amusement.
Sister Susan sighs at me then throws a menacingly glare Father Dominic’s way. “Very well. I’ll see you out.”
“May God be with you,” Father Dominic says, a smug grin tugging at his lips as we walk past him.
* * *
It’s been at least five years since I’ve been outside after sunset. I can’t even remember the last time I’ve seen the moon or the stars sparkling above me and not through a pane of glass.
The second I step through the iron front doors of the cathedral and into the night air though, my heart instantly squeezes in terror.
Freezing in place, I stare out at a world that’s no longer safe.
A world crawling with my worst nightmares.
It doesn’t matter that I’ve painstakingly prepared for this very situation every morning with the cinnamon oil, Charity’s clothes, and the things I carry in my bag.
Because burning inside me is the surety that tonight I’m going to die .
“Are you okay?” Sister Susan asks before her hand comes down on my shoulder to give a reassuring squeeze.
When her hand touches me, my body reacts. My very bones wanting to jump through my skin as I jerk away from her.
Sister Susan startles at my reaction, her eyes growing wide.
Regretting that I scared her, I quickly apologize and try to regain my composure. “Yes, sorry, I just need a moment.”
She gives a sharp nod of her head, but I can tell she’s disturbed as she takes a small step away from me.
I’m not sure if the step was done consciously or unconsciously, but it’s a painful reminder of the differences between us.
She’s a normal human, and I’m not.
I’m cursed.
It’s easy to forget when we’re inside the church working together, but out here, in the dark, I’ve never felt it sharper or deeper.
Taking a deep breath to steady my heartbeat, I glance across the street and try to ignore how the night air tastes different than the air during the day.
Somehow it tastes sweeter , which is absolutely ridiculous.
Especially in this filthy city.
“The last bus will be here soon,” Sister Susan says after a couple of minutes, gently reminding me of what I have to do.
Close to finding my calm again, I nod my head then make the mistake of glancing up.
Above us, the sky is a black, inky sea glittering with hundreds of sparkling stars.
And nestled in the center of that sea, looming larger than ever before, is a blood red moon.
Following my gaze, Sister Susan glances up then gasps. “God have mercy. Tonight of all nights…”
Quickly, she makes the sign of the cross then grabs my hands. Seemingly forgetting what happened the last time she touched me.
“Chloe,” she says as if it might be the last thing she ever says to me, “you must go straight home. Do not stop for anything. Promise me you will not stop.”
Tearing my eyes away from the moon, I look down into her face.
It’s funny, I’ve never noticed how many imperfections there are in her skin…
Have all those tiny lines and creases always been there?
Or are they new?
“Chloe,” she says sharply and squeezes my hands to bring my focus back. “Promise me.”
Blinking at her, I say, “I promise.”
Sister Susan squeezes my hands a couple of times, murmuring, “Good, good.”
Then she finally releases me.
Letting go of my hands like it’s the last thing she wants to do, she says, “You should go before you miss the bus.”
The thought of trying to walk home in the dark fills me with so much terror my heart starts to race again, and all my senses somehow feel stronger and sharper.
Suddenly the streetlights are so bright they hurt my eyes and I find myself squinting. The sounds as well… All the little sounds I’ve never noticed before are practically screaming at me.
The loudest of them being my own pulse outpacing Sister Susan’s.
“Go, child,” Sister Susan urges, “and may God be with you.”
Shaking my head, I try to clear it before I take the first step down, away from the church.
Away from my only sanctuary.
I’m tempted to ask Sister Susan if I can stay. I know I refused her earlier, but that was before I stepped outside.
Honestly, I don’t think I can do this now.
I think I’d much rather suffer Father Dominic.
But just as I turn back to ask her, the iron doors swing shut in my face.
For several seconds, I stare at the doors in confusion. I didn’t even notice her opening them…
What is happening to me?
Why do I feel so strange?
I start to reach for the doors, only to hear the thump of the safety bar falling into place.
She locked me out.
She left me out here in the dark and barred the doors against me.
I don’t know how long I stare at the doors in stupid bewilderment, not understanding how she could pretend so easily to care for me only to abandon me, before the reality of my situation truly sinks in.
I’m outside, all alone, and there could be any number of vampires around me, watching me at this very second.
Whipping back around, I try to peer into every shadow painting the streets around me, but there are too many of them, cast by too many buildings and objects.
I’ve never noticed how many shadows there are before.
And any one of them could be him .
If I don’t make it home soon, he might finally catch me…
Spurred into action, I take the first step down. Then the next one, and the next one.
All the while, my eyes frantically scan the area around me.
No flicker of movement escapes me.
I’m all too aware of little things that would usually escape my attention.
Like the annoying buzz seemingly coming from every streetlamp. The rotting stench wafting out of every garbage can.
And the rats scurrying between the buildings, feeding, fighting, and mating.
What I seem to be most aware of though is the heartbeats of the few other people around me. Their pulses tapping in my ears like a soft, steady drumbeat.
It’s beyond disturbing at first, but it quickly becomes comforting.
I don’t know how or why I can suddenly hear them, maybe it’s because of all the adrenaline pumping through me, but every pulse confirms the person isn’t a vampire.
They’re a living, breathing human being.
I manage to avoid thinking about all the strangeness happening, focusing on just being alert and aware of my surroundings.
Until I cross the street and reach the other side quickly.
Too quickly.
Again, I have the strange, unnerving feeling that I’ve somehow lost time. Like minutes of my awareness are slipping away from me.
There’s no way I was across the street a split-second ago and now I’m already on the other side…
There’s just no logical way. That’s over twenty feet.
Am I losing my mind?
Is my fear making me crazy?
God, what is wrong with me?
Squeezing my eyes shut, I take a few deep, steadying breaths. Willing my body to calm down.
If I just calm down, everything will be alright.
Everything will be normal again.
Mentally reciting every line of the prayer of protection, I ask Saint Benedict to grant me strength. To help me make it home safely.
Once my pulse starts to slow and all the sounds around me stop screaming, I open my eyes, exhale, and walk slowly up to the bus stop.
Purposely counting every step.
When I step up next to the bench to wait directly beneath the light of the streetlamp, the lone man sitting on the bench jumps up from his seat.
Shooting a worried look at me, he hastily snatches up his plastic grocery bags and starts running.
Thinking he must have seen something frightening behind me, I spin around, searching for the threat.
But there’s nothing there.
The street is utterly deserted, save for the occasional raccoon or rat.
Brow pinching in confusion, I turn back to the man and watch him run away. Every so often he glances over his shoulder at me, then he seems to run faster.
Running like his life depends on it…
Am I so frightening?
Glancing down at myself, I don’t see anything out of the ordinary.
All my wounds from the sacrament have healed, and my clothes are clean because Father Dominic had me remove them beforehand.
Convinced the man must be looking at something else, I glance his way again.
Reaching the next intersection, his bags begin to split open, his groceries falling to the pavement, but he doesn’t stop to pick them up.
No, he decides to abandon them.
Throwing his bags down, he veers to the right and starts to disappear around the corner.
And I have the sudden, unexplainable urge to chase after him.
I’m convinced I could easily catch him.
I could pounce on him and—
“Hey! Are you getting on or what?”
Jolting in surprise, I turn toward the voice to see the bus parked in front of the stop with the door open.
When… how did I miss it?
“Well?” the bus driver asks, eyes glaring down at me beneath his bushy eyebrows.
When I don’t answer right away, he starts to close the door, the panel unfolding with a loud hiss.
Instantly coming to my senses, I cry out, “Wait!” and jump forward.
The door starts to open again, as if the bus driver expected my exact reaction.
“Hurry up!” the driver barks at me as I grab the rail and take the first step up. “I don’t got all night!”
Unlike the man who ran away, the bus driver doesn’t seem to be the least bit afraid of me. He just glares at me and mutters under his breath about me taking my sweet time like no one else needs to get home safely to their families, as I swipe my card and try to pick a seat.
The bus is almost completely empty. Only a handful of people spread out among all the seats.
I choose a seat close to the front, three rows away from the closest rider.
The moment my butt touches the seat, the bus jerks and rolls forward.
Almost at once, relief washes over me.
I made it onto the bus, and in a few minutes I’ll be home safe.
Where he can’t get me.
The entire ride passes by oddly quiet compared to the day commute, with an undercurrent of tension, but completely uneventful. Buried in their phones or looking out the windows, the other riders keep to themselves.
And no one looks at me twice.
When the bus finally reaches my stop, as much as I want to rush, I force myself to take it slow and count every step.
I don’t start running until my feet hit the sidewalk.
Then time slips away from me again.
The two blocks it takes to reach my townhouse from the bus stop is gone in a flash.
I reach my front door in what feels like a mere second. I just blink and suddenly I’m standing in front of it, as if I willed it to appear in front of me.
Too grateful to be freaked out, I grab the handle and push it open. Then I quickly step inside, slam the door shut, and lock it.
Once the lock clicks into place, I sag against the door in relief.
I made it .
Thank God and Saint Benedict, I made it.
“Well, who do we have here?” someone asks behind me.
I’m so relieved to be home it takes me a second to realize the voice that asked the question was deep, smooth, and very male .
Charity giggles. “Oh, that’s just my stupid roommate. Ignore her.”
My heart sinking to my stomach, I slowly turn around to see that Charity made good on her threat.
She did exactly what she said she was going to do.
She brought home a man.
But she didn’t bring home just any man.
She brought home a man without a heartbeat.