familiar hands at my back. And again I had
that totally fucked-up feeling of liking his touch. His palms warm on my skin,
carefully not touching the raw ruin of my flesh. My toes curled instinctively to
grip the smooth stone beneath my feet, trying to hang on.
I was going to die on those rocks down there. With my
sisters.
Again.
4
T omas had parked his Volvo across the
street from Indira Simon’s apartment building, where he had a beautiful view of
her windows, and spent the entire night there, trying to keep watch, hoping he
would know if something went wrong. He saw other tenants come and go, and at one
point, while out stretching his legs, he caught the door before it swung closed
and jammed the latch, so he could get in if necessary.
Yes, he’d thought Father Dom was two-thirds of the way to
insanity with his obsessive predictions about this demon and its witches. Until
he’d seen that subway video. And met her. That woman
was something else. He could feel it just by looking into her eyes. And when
she’d swung her arm in anger, a burst of genuine power had erupted from her.
She’d been as surprised by that as he had.
And now everything he’d been so sure was just the outrageous
exaggerations of an aging priest with delusions of grandeur seemed like it just
might be real, after all. Which threw everything else he thought he’d known into
question.
His crisis of faith, his decision to leave the church, all of
that, he’d decided, had to be put aside until this was finished. Because if he’d
been wrong—well, he couldn’t undo that. But he could carry out this mission for
Dom, at least far enough to make sure it really was just part of an old man’s
ramblings. Maybe generations of old men. The rest…the rest could wait.
He knew already that some things Dom had told him were utterly
false. Things about her. She was not evil. No demon’s whore. Not that one. She
hadn’t tried to seduce him or ensorcell him as Dom had predicted she would.
She’d run from him instead.
But he’d followed. Because he had a feeling that just wouldn’t
leave him alone. Clearly some of the things Dom had believed in for so long were true. Were, perhaps, unfolding as had been
predicted. And the most important thing that meant to Tomas was that she might
be in danger. So while this would be his final mission as a priest, it was still
his mission—and he was still a priest. And he
intended to do it right. Maybe that would assuage his guilt over leaving the
collar behind, and for not believing in Dom’s obsession until now.
He had expected that he might catch a glimpse of Indy moving
around behind her apartment windows, though the drapes were drawn. He had not expected to see her on the building’s rooftop just
before dawn.
When he caught sight of her up there his heart almost stopped.
She was standing near the brick safety wall, which reached almost to her bare
shoulders, her hands along the top of it, the wind blowing through her hair. It
looked as if she was getting ready to climb up.
“God, save her,” he whispered.
He was out of the car instantly, racing to the building’s door
and yanking it open, glad he’d thought far enough ahead to disable the lock. He
took the stairs two at a time all the way to the roof. Then he slid to a stop.
She was standing on the wall now, completely naked. Wobbling dangerously, she
held her arms behind her back as if they were tied there, even though they
weren’t. It was still dark, but there was something staining her
back—crisscrossing stripes with scarlet rivulets running from them. And
something else, a tattoo on her lower back. Three rows of symbols.
Was that cuneiform?
God, what had happened to her? And what was he supposed to
do?
Waking a sleepwalker was a bad idea—especially when they were
standing seventy feet off the ground. But he couldn’t just let this play out and
hope she didn’t plummet to her death.
Quietly, he approached from behind. She was standing
that totally fucked-up feeling of liking his touch. His palms warm on my skin,
carefully not touching the raw ruin of my flesh. My toes curled instinctively to
grip the smooth stone beneath my feet, trying to hang on.
I was going to die on those rocks down there. With my
sisters.
Again.
4
T omas had parked his Volvo across the
street from Indira Simon’s apartment building, where he had a beautiful view of
her windows, and spent the entire night there, trying to keep watch, hoping he
would know if something went wrong. He saw other tenants come and go, and at one
point, while out stretching his legs, he caught the door before it swung closed
and jammed the latch, so he could get in if necessary.
Yes, he’d thought Father Dom was two-thirds of the way to
insanity with his obsessive predictions about this demon and its witches. Until
he’d seen that subway video. And met her. That woman
was something else. He could feel it just by looking into her eyes. And when
she’d swung her arm in anger, a burst of genuine power had erupted from her.
She’d been as surprised by that as he had.
And now everything he’d been so sure was just the outrageous
exaggerations of an aging priest with delusions of grandeur seemed like it just
might be real, after all. Which threw everything else he thought he’d known into
question.
His crisis of faith, his decision to leave the church, all of
that, he’d decided, had to be put aside until this was finished. Because if he’d
been wrong—well, he couldn’t undo that. But he could carry out this mission for
Dom, at least far enough to make sure it really was just part of an old man’s
ramblings. Maybe generations of old men. The rest…the rest could wait.
He knew already that some things Dom had told him were utterly
false. Things about her. She was not evil. No demon’s whore. Not that one. She
hadn’t tried to seduce him or ensorcell him as Dom had predicted she would.
She’d run from him instead.
But he’d followed. Because he had a feeling that just wouldn’t
leave him alone. Clearly some of the things Dom had believed in for so long were true. Were, perhaps, unfolding as had been
predicted. And the most important thing that meant to Tomas was that she might
be in danger. So while this would be his final mission as a priest, it was still
his mission—and he was still a priest. And he
intended to do it right. Maybe that would assuage his guilt over leaving the
collar behind, and for not believing in Dom’s obsession until now.
He had expected that he might catch a glimpse of Indy moving
around behind her apartment windows, though the drapes were drawn. He had not expected to see her on the building’s rooftop just
before dawn.
When he caught sight of her up there his heart almost stopped.
She was standing near the brick safety wall, which reached almost to her bare
shoulders, her hands along the top of it, the wind blowing through her hair. It
looked as if she was getting ready to climb up.
“God, save her,” he whispered.
He was out of the car instantly, racing to the building’s door
and yanking it open, glad he’d thought far enough ahead to disable the lock. He
took the stairs two at a time all the way to the roof. Then he slid to a stop.
She was standing on the wall now, completely naked. Wobbling dangerously, she
held her arms behind her back as if they were tied there, even though they
weren’t. It was still dark, but there was something staining her
back—crisscrossing stripes with scarlet rivulets running from them. And
something else, a tattoo on her lower back. Three rows of symbols.
Was that cuneiform?
God, what had happened to her? And what was he supposed to
do?
Waking a sleepwalker was a bad idea—especially when they were
standing seventy feet off the ground. But he couldn’t just let this play out and
hope she didn’t plummet to her death.
Quietly, he approached from behind. She was standing
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