A deep, cleansing breath and Pedro began to speak with authority. The crowd sat riveted, waiting to be blessed by Her words, through him.
Pedro loved the people so very much.
As had She.
T he Light that surrounded him breathed with a joy of its own. Its bright and sentient thickness leaned heavy and warm against his skin, welcoming him Home. He felt balmy and safe, deliciously so.
He glanced down at his fingertips and saw nothing. No talons, no scars, ordinary fingers only. Plain, old fingernails on ordinary fingers.
He probed his gums and could not find the bumpy nubs that once housed his vampire fangs. They were gone. He wasn’t hungry and he wasn’t cold. Instead, he was warm.
He looked up from his musings and saw the Christ.
“Greetings, Prelate,” She said.
“Greetings to you, Jesus of Nazareth,” Pilate replied. “Immanuel.”
He bowed to Her. He straightened. She was before him; right here. He could reach out and touch Her, no vision this.
They stood together, before the Gates of Heaven, within the Light. They looked at each other and smiled.
“Took you long enough,” She said and Pilate had to laugh. Two thousand years was a long time.
Pontius Pilate went to her and they embraced. She smelled so clean, like a newborn baby. She towered over him and She held him close so that he might feel safe. Pilate felt as though he were inside a womb, a safe place where he was fiercely protected and unconditionally loved.
The Roman cried, the vampire wept. He cried to empty out the last of the pain: two thousand years worth. She held Pontius Pilate close to Her. She let him weep complete and in full measure. And when he finished, when none but the shell remained, his soul shall finally be at peace.
The prodigal son has returned Home and all shall rejoice: for once he was lost, but now is found. He was blind, but now he sees.
Pontius Pilate has been forgiven and shall now be forever in Glory.
Thus it was written.
So mote it be.
END
Pilate Page 20
