The Priest And The Demon

Chapter 7

dread

/dred/

verb

--anticipate with great apprehension or fear.

***

When my golden orbs finally fluttered open, I knew she was still there. My hand grazed along her arm—she was remarkably warmer. Her skin was actually giving off its own heat and I unwillingly stole some of it. Her face wasn't as pale as it had been last night—something I hadn't noticed when I laid down with her.

I nuzzled back down into the crook of her neck, where I could hear her heartbeat—slow and steadily beating to its own rhythm. I closed my eyes again, listening to that tempo.

I knew she had moved, but it only slightly registered. I felt her hand run along my back—sending shivers up my spine—and it ended up resting on my shoulder, pulling me closer to her. She made no sound while she did this.

'''

It made me feel almost safe to know that she had wanted me next to her. I stared at her from across the table—shoving eggs into my mouth. She wasn't the same as what she had been. Rachel stayed quiet and still as she ate, something she never did. I noticed that those bright green eyes were duller then I'd presumed they'd be.

She didn't even look up at me.

"Rachel?" I called over to her. "Are you okay?"

She stayed quiet for the longest while. Each second passed and I could almost hear her heartbeat in the silence. "Yeah. . . I'm alright," she whispered.

I nodded just to show I understood when she dropped her fork on her plate—making a loud tinking sound. My eyes jolted up to her in an instant.

"He left us out there. . ." she started. "He left us to be taken, didn't he?"

I could only stare at her. We both knew she was right—or so I thought. I knew what she had seen of me—I knew that pain in my back wasn't foreign. I knew I'd felt it before. She hadn't seen me without her. She hadn't seen my fight or my pleas in my sleep to kill that demon—the one that had taken her from me.

"I wouldn't leave you out there without a reason."

I jumped in my chair and whirled around to find the deathly gaze of Damien himself.

"I have reasons for the things I do," he murmured—those eyes not faltering for even a second. "Follow me, children."

We obliged and followed him through the church—Rachel silent as a mouse—and we traveled passed the stone walls and down the steps to the basement. What I saw made my mouth grow dry.

Even though I hated that creature, it pained me to see it like this. Its hair was tied up, its mouth sealed with thread, its hands and feet bound like it was some dog, and its eyes staring into mine. Its wings weren't present—only stumps of what were once wings remained. I approached the creature. It struggled against its restraints and screamed as a demon would.

I only backed further away. Rachel took the same path I had, and walked closer to it. Her eyes were locked with the creature's dark black eyes. I noticed a spec of white in the creature's eyes—a pupil.

She reached out to it, slow.

I lunged and caught her hand. The demon fought more than it had before and it seemed to cry. It closed its eyes tightly and it whimpered out into the air—then it looked back at me.