by Casey Lane
“Man,” Parker whispered.
I leaned forward and reached for his hand then I pulled back before making contact. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” he asked.
I took a short breath. “That pity thing, trust me, I'm all right.”
He stared at the file that sat between us.
“Halo, I know about your brother, and David, of course.”
I felt my throat dry up, so I grabbed my coffee and took a gulp of it. It helped. I sat it back down and raised my eyebrows. “Look, rain,” I said as I nudged my chin toward the front window. Parker turned and stared at the glass while the large raindrops began to hit it and warp the scenery.
“Good, maybe it’ll clean up this city.”
I laughed and fingered at my cup. “No amount of rain could ever do that, but I respect your optimism.”
He turned back to face me. “I just want you to know that if you ever need to talk, I’m here.”
“Why do you care?” I asked.
The wrinkle between his eyes deepened. “A curse, I guess.”
“Or a blessing,” I added, and he hid his grin as he waved at the barista and lifted his cup. He turned back to face me. “I thought you didn’t believe in blessings.”
I gave him a nod. “No, but sometimes I believe in the good inside of people. Not very often, but on rare occasions, it shows itself.”
He studied my mouth, and it made me uncomfortable for a moment.
“Would you like to go out sometime, for food, I mean…dinner, maybe?” he asked. My heart sank. Of course, I would have loved to, but not with someone like Parker Presley. He was one of the good guys. He didn’t deserve me.
“Oh, well, I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I said, lowering my gaze and avoiding his stare.
He paused. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know that you were seeing someone.”
I answered before I could stop myself. “I’m not.”
“Oh.” He sounded so deflated from my rushed admission.
I parted my lips and tried to muddle my way through it. “I mean, I’m just on a hiatus, with everything that’s happened in my life, well, I’m just not in a good place right now, and I’m not…I won’t be, I mean.” I rubbed the side of my neck and then tapped my right temple.
He looked me over. “I don’t believe in absolutes, I believe in miracles. I thought that my job would have given you a hint.”
I sighed. “Again, I appreciate your optimism, but I’m a realist, and I’m not going to survive this, and you…” I stopped and bit my lip. I didn’t want to admit that he reminded me so much of David. It was cryptic and such a huge waste of time.
“What?” Parker asked, as he leaned forward in his chair and forced it to creak under his weight.
My eyes scanned the room and landed back on him. “David was a good man, caring and kind. He didn’t…well, I considered getting back with him, even knowing what battle I’m facing now. It was selfish and unkind. I can’t do that to someone like you, I just can’t and if you want to spend time with me out of pity then forget it. I can’t have you wasting time on me; it isn’t fair.”
Parker reached across the table, and I let his hand rest on top of mine. His thumb moved across my skin, and I jerked it away, breaking the connection. He cleared his throat as the barista returned with another espresso. He offered her a curt nod, and she grinned at him. Her expression and body language told me that she found him attractive and I went into matchmaker mode.
“So, no girlfriend, huh?” I asked, glancing at her and then back to him. He tapped his thumb against the edge of the table and then cocked his head. His eyes hid a smile.
“No.”
The girl leaned forward and placed her hands on the table.
“Are you two, I mean…is this a date?” she asked, and I jumped at the chance to tell her the truth because I appreciated her interruption and moxie.
“No, it isn’t.”
He leaned back in his chair and pulled his hand from the edge of the table, letting it rest in his lap. “No, I guess it isn’t,” he added, while not taking his eyes off of me.
“Oh, well I have two tickets to see The Maze tonight, you know, that new Broadway show about the sexual tension between the sexes?”
Parker glared at me, and I licked my lip then released it. My eyebrows rose as I watched two large Vikings land in the middle of the street just outside the café. I stared past Parker as he went into salvage mode.
“I’m not really into that sort of thing,” Parker said without even looking at her.
The two Vikings slammed their backs against each other, and I could see that one was a broad-shouldered man with shaggy dirty blonde hair and the other, a badass Wonder Woman looking female with long blonde hair laying in long braids with a sword raised in front of her. I stood up as they shifted their stance, both parting their lips and yelling a war cry that I could kind of hear through the chatter in the coffee shop.
I took one step, then two and before I knew it, I found myself standing in front of the large window, watching the two of them as if I was on a movie set. I reached out and placed my hand against the glass and then I felt it. One deep thump turned into two, slow and lumbering. I leaned forward and peered to the right and then to the left, I couldn’t see anything, but the humming at my fingertips continued.
Both of the Vikings lowered to a knee. The woman’s sword was already drawn, but the man drew his as he dropped to one knee. They wore white fur collars and black leather vests with matching pants. Their shoes looked modern as well. They wore industrial black boots with thick heels laced up to just below the knee. Again the vibration rushed through my hands as they lay against the glass. Still I could see nothing, but obviously, something was coming, something that had them both shaken.
Then they pushed off and rushed forward, parting their lips and screaming at the top of their lungs as blonde hair whipped wildly in the wind. I gasped and then felt a hand on my shoulder which forced me to blink.
“Halo?” Parker asked.
I blinked a few more times and rushed past him, ignoring his concern. I hit the door running and slid out onto the sidewalk. I looked to the left and could see nothing, then turned to the right…again, nothing. Both Vikings had disappeared, and all I could see were people walking the streets and cars rushing by intermixed with the occasional bike rider.
“Are you okay?”
I turned and faced Parker, who looked genuinely concerned for my welfare.
“Yeah, sure, I’m totally fine.” I lied so easily, but what choice did I have?
He looked down the sidewalk and then back to me. “What did you see?”
I tucked my hands into my sides as I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Nothing…it was nothing.”
He narrowed his eyes, and the barista rushed out and handed him a piece of paper.
“Here…it’s my number, just in case you change your mind.”
I stared up at the darkening clouds and closed my eyes and let the raindrops land on my cheeks. It felt cold and inviting. I used to love the rain and so did Fin. We would walk in the rain while most people hid away in their houses, but not us. The rain seemed to be a cleansing of sorts, even though I knew that it really wasn’t.
Parker placed his fingers to his lips and let out a sharp whistle. The cab stopped at the curb, and he opened the door for me. I slid in and stared up at him.
“Thank you for the coffee, I appreciate it…and the company.”
He leaned up, and the rain ran over his face and dripped from his chin. He looked even more attractive wet. I ignored my old instincts and terrible decision making.
“Can I call you, sometime?”
I gave him a nod and reached for the door. I shut it as he realized that I hadn’t given him my number. His hand rose and fell as the cab took off amidst honking horns.
“Where to?” the cabby asked me.
“Anywhere but here.”
“Huh?” he
asked, eyeing me in the rearview mirror.
I leaned forward. “183rd. St. James Cathedral.”
“You got it.” he said, and we raced down the road swerving along the way.
Chapter Nine
I stood in front of the menacing doors bolted with thick iron. I stared down at my hands and spotted the tremor. I clenched my fist and let the rain rush over my face and drip from my chin. The last time I had stepped foot in this church, it was to say goodbye, not only to my brother but to my faith.
I reached out and jerked on the door, and it fought against me. I pulled again and realized that it was locked. I stepped back and tilted my chin upward, taking in the majesty of the large stain glass mural above the doors. Michael was descending from Heaven with a spear in hand, and his wings spread. He had such a determined look on his face. He was ready for battle, and I guess I should be preparing myself for the same thing.
I considered leaving but then I recalled the small door on the right side of the cathedral that sat at the base of a staircase in the alleyway. Fin had snuck out with me a few times when we were children before mom died and dad went away. I missed those moments, as fleeting as they may have been. At least then we were together.
I made my way down the concrete steps and slipped into the alleyway undetected by anyone. I had to pause and place my hand against the brick wall and let a dizzy spell pass before pushing on until I spotted the small set of stairs and the iron railing. The rain continued to come down, and a crack of lightning made me flinch, but it helped illuminate the door. I reached out and placed my hand on the small silver handle. I pressed it downward and nudged the door open with my shoulder, happy to escape the storm.
I closed the door behind me and took a deep breath, smelling the sweet incense and faint traces of candle wax. It took me back to when Griffin and I attended Sunday school here. It was a welcomed relief at that time when our mom spent more days locked in her room crying and muttering to herself while our dad sat blankly staring at the TV and drinking beer after beer.
Griffin had already taken up the role of protector by then, standing in between our father and me when he would become belligerent and decide to take his aggression out on us since mom had effectively passed out in the other room. As the verbal attacks worsened, our time spent here in church increased.
I paused and leaned my back against the wall, closing my eyes and trying to hold back the tears. Life is so cruel, and so is the God that I was taught to worship and obey.
How could a God of love allow us to endure the abuse that we had, then bury our mother and watch our dad get convicted of her murder and placed on death row?
And now…now this all knowing, all loving invisible being decided to not only rob me of my brother, but this thing allowed me to watch David die, all while accepting my own fate with a growing tumor in my brain.
A God of love wouldn’t allow these things to happen, would he?
I opened my eyes and made my way down the long hallway, and finally, I reached the door. I opened it up and could hear music playing in the distance, a violin echoed on the wind. I narrowed my eyes and leaned out into the stairwell. I swallowed hard as the music droned on. It tugged at my heart and made me feel such deep sorrow. Griffin was the only person in my life who played the violin, and I spent most of my childhood and teenage years listening to him create some of the most beautifully haunting musical compositions.
I ascended the stairs, careful not to stumble and fall. My head ached, as well as my heart. I felt so tired and unwilling to go on, but something drew me in. Finally, I reached the top, and just as I stepped out into the large room, I spotted a priest in the pulpit with a violin cradled between his chin and shoulder. He drew the bow across the strings ever so slowly, and the notes escaped into the air, floating above him. My gaze lifted and I could see the crucifix suspended overhead. Even now it was larger than life. I peered upward and studied the paintings. In the center, the hand of God stretched out to meet the hand of man.
I wish that I could believe, but I can’t bring myself to kneel at the altar to something that would allow such heartache in the world.
The priest played a little bit louder and faster, finally resting on a high note, and it reverberated through me. My hands tingled, and I sucked in my breath just as he busted into a song that Griffin used to play when I felt sad.
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered.
Just as I spoke, the music stopped. The violin lowered to his side and with it the bow. I bit my lip then released it. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you; please keep playing.”
“You can see me without lifting the veil?” The priest asked as he half turned. A devious grin parted his lips. “How intriguing.” He added.
I took a couple of steps back out of instinct. “Lifting what?” I asked.
His head lifted, and he glared at the crucifix. “Beauty. This is a subjective thing, is it not?”
I fidgeted with my hands. Something about him made me nervous. I could feel the knot winding itself up in the pit of my stomach. His voice rushed over me like warm waves and then receded, leaving behind a chilled void.
A female’s voice echoed behind me. “Totally subjective.”
I spun around to see a woman standing there. She had long black hair and pale skin. Her lips were the color of roses, and her eyes seemed dark and ageless. She looked me over and then the man spoke up behind me.
“Nessa, behave.”
I narrowed my eyes, and he approached me. The woman brushed her ice cold fingers against mine. I jerked my hand back, and she stepped up and tilted her head.
“I’m bored.” She whined, and he rolled his eyes.
“When are you not?” he asked with exasperation. She turned and looked me over with disgust. He lifted the violin and handed it to her. “Could you put this away for me?”
“I’m not your servant, Hunter.”
“Vanessa, please.”
Her eyebrow cocked, and she jerked it out of his hand with a huff. “Very well, but I’m hungry.” She glanced at me, and he shook his head.
“Not yet.” He muttered, and she bit her lip. I could see a small trail of blood roll down her chin, and he quickly turned her away from me. “Now, please.”
She muttered something at him and then walked away from the two of us. I could hear the clicking of the case as she opened it up and gently laid the violin inside. The bow followed.
She stood up and spun around very dramatically. “Done! Now can I eat?”
“Patience.” He added, never taking his eyes off of me. He rushed forward and grabbed my wrist with an icy grip. He forced my hand over as I began to struggle and his thumb skirted across the scar. He let me go and crossed his arms over his chest.
I took two steps back and studied his black coat, black shirt, and white collar.
My voice cracked as I spoke. “Are you a priest?”
He laughed and toyed with the white color that sat against his throat. “Oh, this? Borrowed, but I do take confession on occasion from those who want to end this miserable existence.” He looked around the room and then his dark eyes landed back on me. I studied his boyish features and pale skin. He had dark black hair that lay in a rough cut that framed his face. His lips were full and his jawline strong and unyielding. He looked to be about six foot two, or maybe three with broad shoulders and a wide stance. He was definitely confident, and that confidence also sent out a wave of uneasiness that I couldn’t ward off the best that I tried.
“Borrowed from who?” I asked without worry for my own safety.
“You don’t believe yet you come to this place and embrace it like a long-lost lover.” He spoke as if he applauded my lack of faith. His comparison disturbed me. The woman returned to his side. She was stunning. Her bright eyes matched her enthusiasm. Her button nose sat nestled above full red lips and a jawline that rivaled any top model. She was at least a foot shorter than he was, but somehow she seemed more dangerous.
I cleared my throat
. “That’s none of your business. I asked you a question.” I blurted it out before I had a chance to think.
She laughed, and it echoed in the room. He tapped his wrist and then winked at me. “You tried to exit this wretched place, and I can’t say that I blame you, I guess I would have too if it weren't for my obligations.” He eyed the woman, and she stared at her nails.
“Why are we talking to this thing?” she asked. I took another step back knowing that she was referring to me. My heartbeat sped up, and she growled. The man reached out and placed his hand in front of her and sniffed the air. His facial expression changed and suddenly he appeared sad.
“We need to go, Nessa.”
“Why?” her shrill voice rang out in the large room.
“Could you listen to me for once, please?” he asked.
“I’m hungry, and she came here of her own free will.” She said with the wave of her hand.
The man sighed. “It’s wounded.”
The wrinkle between her eyes deepened, and she cocked her leg out and gave me a once over.
“I don’t see anything wrong with it.”
“Excuse me,” I said while lifting my hand. “I have a name; I’m not an it or a damn thing. Stop talking about me like I don’t understand, you freakish assholes.” They both turned to face me. The woman laughed.
“Oh my God, seriously?”
“Yes, seriously, frankenwench,” I said as my temper flared.
She scowled at me. “I’m going to tear out your soul and nibble on it for an eternity.” She venomously spat out the words, but the man grabbed her hand.
“Use your impeccable sense of smell, Nessa. I speak the truth.” She paused then sniffed the air. The woman immediately hissed.
“Oh.” She added as her facial expression changed, too. “Well, what now? I mean we have to kill it, right? It’ll tell someone.”
I clenched my fists at my sides. “My name is Halo, Halo Bay; it isn’t it or that thing, it’s Halo, and I dare you to come at me, bitch. I may not win, but you’ll know you were in a fight.” I started to remove my rings and shove them into my pockets.
