Note: When I introduced Sister Elizabeth in QB MURDERED CHEERLEADER MISSING I didn't realize I was creating such a useful character. Bitten by a vampire at the age of ten, she set out on a life- long mission of battling supernatural creatures. Sometimes her war continues, even after her death (LAIR OF THE CARTER BROTHERS) with the help of her childhood sweetheart, Lucius Carter (ELIZABETH'S VAMPIRE STORY and MAGE AND SPIRIT).
This is just a story, not a treatise on religion. It does not necessarily reflect the writer's personal views. Keep telling yourself "It's just a story."
The ancient pickup truck chugged down the dark River Road at forty miles an hour. In the cab Sister Elizabeth's prayer over the alternator had turned into a full conversation with herself.
"'Sez he, 'Sister, since you're leavin' us for yer new assignment in New Orleans, will you drive the old truck to the Ursaleenes instead o' takin' the train?' 'Sez I, 'O' course, Father!' Lord, strike me fer a fool if ah evah agree t' drive a vehicle w'out seein' the bloody thing first!"
Not only was the truck frustrating, it was poorly ventilated for the heat of the Louisiana night. Even with the windows down, her habit was soaked with sweat and she wanted to stop for the night. Alas, she was behind schedule: She was expected at the parish served by her dear friend James, better known as "Father Jimmy."
It was well past sunset when she rounded the curve and the white steeple of St. Expeditus Church came into view over the sugar cane. Then the white painted cypress wood and the whitewashed tombs of the cemetery seemed to glow in the moonlight. As Liz exerted herself against the stubborn steering wheel to coax the truck into the dirt parking lot her heart was refreshed to see the glowing porch light of the priest's quarters. The feeling didn't last long once she saw the note tacked to the door of the raised cottage.
Gears ground as she halted the truck and turned the ignition key to the "off" position. The motor sputtered as if it didn't want to go off, and then faded to silence. Elizabeth pushed the door open and began to peel herself off the leather and duct tape seat.
"Jimmy?" she called out. The only sound was a rustle of sugar cane in the hot breeze. Liz reached back into the cab and grabbed the tattered suitcase that held her worldly possessions then made her way up the steps onto the porch.
The note on the door was addressed to "Sister Liz" so she pulled it from the nail an opened it.
"Liz," it said, "I was called to attend a sick parishioner at the St James Hospital. If I'm not back by morning, Mrs. Donaldson will be here about eight to cook breakfast and wash your laundry for you. The pantry is full and you have the run of the house. Signed, Father Jimmy.
"P.S. The front bedroom is mine, but I won't mind if you use it: It has a great mattress for a sore back. Jim"
Liz crossed herself and prayed "God, please protect the family he ministers to this night. But on the othe' hand, Lord, thank you for a bathroom all to m'self!" She pushed the door open and went in: Jimmy never locked his doors.
The cottage was designed for the hot climate of Louisiana. High ceilings and open windows drew air from under the surrounding trees making it feel cooler than the night outside. It felt pleasant to Elizabeth as she looked around at the sparse furnishing of the priest's living room. She was very pleased to see the antique prayer bench that Lucius Carter had given Jim for his ordination. It was the most prominent piece of furniture in the room, under the east window so Jim could face Jerusalem as he knelt. "Good ol' Jimmy" she mumbled. "Still loves to pray like the prophet Daniel."
The cottage had no hall, typical of Creole homes so every room had two doors that opened into other rooms to promote ventilation. Liz had only to look about to locate the priest's bedroom, the guest room and bathroom. Still talking to herself she decided "'Wouldn't be proper t' use your room, Jim, but thanks for the offer. The guest room is fine."
