She stepped through the massive oak doors of the church, both intricately inlaid with gold and glass. Dread pounded though her blood. Something in her gut told her that not even these beautiful and holy doors could keep them out, or she hoped, from finding her. Her footsteps echoed around the massive hall as she made her way down the line of marble flooring of the entryway. Streams of light in hues of crimson, emerald and cobalt flowed in from the stained glass windows, each beautifully depicting a scene from the leather-bound Bibles that rested in holders behind each row of seats.
She'd never been Catholic, but where else could she go? This seemed like the last place to find solace before they took her away. The last place to make peace with herself.
She paused at the fonts in front of the massive archways that separated the entrance from the pews. She looked down into the crystal clear water, taking in soft grey eyes, full lips, high cheekbones and pale skin. Short, choppy hair the color of cinnamon framed a hear-shaped face.
Staring into the water, she began to relive the memory of when she first began to understand what her parents had done. When she began to understand what --and who- she really was...
* * *
"Claire! This way, honey!" Her mother's voice resounded through the walls of the old church, echoing off the slick marble walls. Her parents and the other tourists followed the guide past the pews as he lead the tour through the Leon Cathedral. She'd fallen in love with the old gothic-style church the instant she saw it, and now she lingered behind, captivated by the massive windows of glass that gave the church such majesty.
She was staring at one of the lower windows, looking the characters in the eye. They were beautiful, made from intricate bits of stained glass and metal. The peaceful looks on the faces frozen in time took her breath away.
Scanning the room for anyone watching, she reached out and traced the lines of Mary's face, enthralled by the beauty of her peaceful expression. A loud
crack
echoed through the halls and she yanked her hand back in shock. Though she'd barely used any more force than a falling feather to touch the window, a long fissure had erupted in the glass Virgin's face where her finger had made contact.
"What..." She hesitated, not wanting to draw attention by panicking. She peered closer at the crack. "What in the hell?"
"Claire, I told you to hurry. Didn't you..." Her mother stopped dead. Claire looked up and saw that her eyes had found the crack as well, and were now about to burst from their sockets.
"Mom, I swear I didn't mean to!" She bit her lip in fear, looking at her mother through worried eyes.
Her mother faltered for an instant, before grabbing her wrist and dragging her out of the church. Her father stopped and called after them, not following the other visitors deeper into the church. When they stood out in the blazing afternoon sunlight, her mother grabbed her shoulders and turned her sharply, staring at her.
"You listen to me. What happened in there is not your fault." Her tone had dropped to a serious tone that made Claire swallow hard. "It is
not
your fault."
"But mom, the window..."
"No." Shaking her head, her mother reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her face. "You are sixteen now. We brought you here because we wanted to give you time to explore the world before you lost that chance."
"Lost what chance? What are you talking about?" Confusion seeped into her mind, spinning her thoughts in circles.
"Claire, your father and I have made some terrible, horrible mistakes in our lives. Some of them we wish we'd never made. But one of those mistakes gave us you, and we are so happy it did. Because we've had so many wonderful times with you. But that mistake has a price, Claire, and you only have two more years to enjoy your life before that price has to be paid."
She shook her head in disbelief. "Wh-What mistake did you make? What did you do?"
"I can't tell you, honey. But I'm so sorry for what you'll have to go through." She cupped her face in her calloused hands. "I'd give anything to take your place, but I can't." Her mother was crying, her face covered in streaks of black mascara.
She was crying, too. "But...what price do...you have to pay?" she asked between sobs.
Her mother's mouth quivered. She dropped her head for a moment, then looked back up at her with pained eyes. "You."
* * *
Things come full circle, don't they?
she thought sarcastically.
She reached out to touch the water, wanting desperately for it to fix everything. Her fingertip barely brushed the surface of the water, but it was enough to send a burning pain through her hand. She turned her hand over, examining the damage. Her finger was bright red, as if she'd touched a bare flame. She dropped her hands and sighed. Not even holy water would help.
She turned and walked slowly past the endless rows of carved wooden seats, finally settling into one in the middle of the right row. She smoothed her cream-colored skirt, crossing and uncrossing her ankles nervously. From here she could see the enormous cross, the sad face of the gaunt man pinned to it seeming to both glare at her and weep for her. She sighed and bowed her head. She felt as trapped as he did. She began to say her goodbyes, to tell each and every person that she loved them, that she would miss them. Tears threatened to break through, and she had to catch her breath to hold them back. Fear caused her breathing to become rapid, making her chest heave. She put a hand to her chest, feeling the soft red silk of the blouse under her fingers, trying to calm her heat. Fat chance of accomplishing that.
"Something I can help you with, child?" A silky voice, one that wrapped around her body and squeezed tight, snapped her out of her thoughts.
She looked up. A young priest was making his way down the rows of seat toward her. It seemed fitting that he should work in a church: The man had the face of an angel. Soft lips, high cheekbones and ivory skin made a good match for the locks of honey-blond hair that hung to his shoulders. Slim shoulders that complimented a tall, slender frame. She wondered if he'd simply charmed his way into priesthood or if his parents thought this would keep him safe from the throngs of girls that would surely chase after him.
His beauty stunned her, but it was his eyes that drew her attention. Light green in color, she could see sparks dancing in them. Sparks of the same hellfire that would come to claim her shortly.
She scoffed on the inside. Even churches weren't off-limits for demons if they could find a way to hide. "Nothing, father. Just trying to calm myself down."
His perfect brows raise an inch. "Oh? And what's gotten you so worked up?"
She dropped her head again. "Nothing. Just a family issue."
The father sat down in the pew in front of her, turning around so he could face her. "Come now, child. Don't be afraid to speak. You can say anything here. You're in the house of God." The way he barely held back from snarling the last word made her suspicions clear. Pure, hell-born demon.
Wolves in sheep's clothing. Clever little things.
she though with a small smile.
"I appreciate everything you're trying to do father, but it's not something you can help." She looked up at the cross, gazing at it but not really seeing it. "This has been going on for years. It's just that the bad part is happening now."
"Tell me what happened." His voice took on a concerned tone, his eyes bored into hers. "If you like, I can take your confession."
She shook her head. "No. It has nothing to do with sins."
"Then tell me. I am a man of God. I am not here to judge you."
I might as well. Demon or not, he's going to change anything
, she though sarcastically.
She nodded, still staring at the cross. "I was born in Clearwater, Florida. It's about 40 miles east of Tampa. It's in the Bible belt, so I was spent my summers with my grandparents in one of those staunchly Catholic homes where you can't do anything unless the Bible says you can. My grandmother bashed God into my head every single day. I tried running away now and then, but someone from the church would find me and bring me back kicking and screaming every time."
The priest folded his arms along the top edge of the pew and leaned on them, staring intently at her.
