he wasn't sure, but he did. “You'll know who she is the moment you set eyes on her.” It was pointless to try to convince Father O'Brian. He had never agreed with Kieran's decision. “I've got to wash up and change for my ordination. Please, excuse me."
Before Father O'Brian could protest, Kieran moved at the speed of sound to his room and closed the door. The scent of Sephora lingered on his skin. He smiled, turned on the shower and undressed. Steam filled the washroom. He stepped under the water, lathered a facecloth and cleaned away mo lon dubh, her scent and taste as though last night had never happened. His entire body ached to the bone, and he rested on the wall for support. Blood changed the color of the water. He checked for wounds, reached his face and found blood. He was crying. Not even at his parents’ funeral, when he was eighteen, had he shed a tear. But walking away from Sephora hollowed him.
He rinsed the soap from his body, which had fit perfectly with Sephora's. If it could, the demon inside would give him reason not to go through with this. The fiend wanted to return to her and, if he were honest with himself, so did he. But she was better off without him.
The black soutane hung on the front door of his wardrobe with the sash and the white clerical collar. Thirty-three buttons adorned the front to symbolize the length of Jesus's earthly life. His own would only be shorter by five. He'd experienced more than many. One by one, he put the layers on, and then adjusted his collar in the mirror. He picked up the rosary beads his godfather had given him for his confirmation. They had been blessed by John Paul II. Heat burned his flesh. Jaw clenched, he lowered them to the neck of his soutane, making sure they didn't touch his skin. He picked up the Bible his grandmother had handed down to him, wrapped in a handkerchief. He could not be late to his own ordination.
"Lord help me find the strength to do what is right, to hear when you speak to me and be guided by your hand.” He made the sign of the cross, exited his room and headed for the church.
The path was deserted. He stuck to the sides of the buildings to avoid direct sunlight. The other ten deacons being ordained leaned on the wall outside the back of the church.
"Kieran,” Martin Burke said. “Is it just me or did you not return last night?” The short man's face turned deep red, his beady eyes shone with interest.
"I didn't know you cared. What of it?” Kieran was trying not to think of Sephora.
"Talk about leaving it to the last moment. I gather you bit the bullet and took my advice to hire some companionship. At least you aren't doing this blind to what you are giving up."
Much like Martin and the others some weeks ago, Kieran had no idea what a true test of faith was. “It's not like that. I didn't hire someone."
"But there was someone ... Does this temptress of the flesh have a name?"
Kieran frowned. It hadn't been just about the flesh. What they'd shared was perfection until he'd lost control. If he hadn't gone too far, perhaps they could have had something. He'd realized his weakness and the demon's strength. It was good he'd realized before he'd truly hurt her. Who was he kidding? She was beautiful, intelligent and strong, with a wonderful life ahead of her. Involvement with him would only ruin her future. In another life or before he'd been turned, he could have offered her so much. Now there was him, the demon and the hunger. Soon he'd be distant memory to her.
"Sephora.” Though it was the name of Abraham's wife, the name was uncommon.
"Zipporah or Tsipora, Hebrew Old Testament, maybe not even a Christian, ay? Possibly a Jewish girl?” Martin's brow shot up. “See? We really can get along. Nostra Aetate of Vatican II has reached the masses of the Roman Catholic faith."
"She was raised without religion.” Kieran smiled. No indoctrination of good and evil, just an open heart to what felt right and wrong.
"A heathen. Of
Before Father O'Brian could protest, Kieran moved at the speed of sound to his room and closed the door. The scent of Sephora lingered on his skin. He smiled, turned on the shower and undressed. Steam filled the washroom. He stepped under the water, lathered a facecloth and cleaned away mo lon dubh, her scent and taste as though last night had never happened. His entire body ached to the bone, and he rested on the wall for support. Blood changed the color of the water. He checked for wounds, reached his face and found blood. He was crying. Not even at his parents’ funeral, when he was eighteen, had he shed a tear. But walking away from Sephora hollowed him.
He rinsed the soap from his body, which had fit perfectly with Sephora's. If it could, the demon inside would give him reason not to go through with this. The fiend wanted to return to her and, if he were honest with himself, so did he. But she was better off without him.
The black soutane hung on the front door of his wardrobe with the sash and the white clerical collar. Thirty-three buttons adorned the front to symbolize the length of Jesus's earthly life. His own would only be shorter by five. He'd experienced more than many. One by one, he put the layers on, and then adjusted his collar in the mirror. He picked up the rosary beads his godfather had given him for his confirmation. They had been blessed by John Paul II. Heat burned his flesh. Jaw clenched, he lowered them to the neck of his soutane, making sure they didn't touch his skin. He picked up the Bible his grandmother had handed down to him, wrapped in a handkerchief. He could not be late to his own ordination.
"Lord help me find the strength to do what is right, to hear when you speak to me and be guided by your hand.” He made the sign of the cross, exited his room and headed for the church.
The path was deserted. He stuck to the sides of the buildings to avoid direct sunlight. The other ten deacons being ordained leaned on the wall outside the back of the church.
"Kieran,” Martin Burke said. “Is it just me or did you not return last night?” The short man's face turned deep red, his beady eyes shone with interest.
"I didn't know you cared. What of it?” Kieran was trying not to think of Sephora.
"Talk about leaving it to the last moment. I gather you bit the bullet and took my advice to hire some companionship. At least you aren't doing this blind to what you are giving up."
Much like Martin and the others some weeks ago, Kieran had no idea what a true test of faith was. “It's not like that. I didn't hire someone."
"But there was someone ... Does this temptress of the flesh have a name?"
Kieran frowned. It hadn't been just about the flesh. What they'd shared was perfection until he'd lost control. If he hadn't gone too far, perhaps they could have had something. He'd realized his weakness and the demon's strength. It was good he'd realized before he'd truly hurt her. Who was he kidding? She was beautiful, intelligent and strong, with a wonderful life ahead of her. Involvement with him would only ruin her future. In another life or before he'd been turned, he could have offered her so much. Now there was him, the demon and the hunger. Soon he'd be distant memory to her.
"Sephora.” Though it was the name of Abraham's wife, the name was uncommon.
"Zipporah or Tsipora, Hebrew Old Testament, maybe not even a Christian, ay? Possibly a Jewish girl?” Martin's brow shot up. “See? We really can get along. Nostra Aetate of Vatican II has reached the masses of the Roman Catholic faith."
"She was raised without religion.” Kieran smiled. No indoctrination of good and evil, just an open heart to what felt right and wrong.
"A heathen. Of
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