Embrace the Night

Page 17



his home for the past thirteen years. It was dark and gloomy inside, and he was content to leave it so. He had other dwellings: an ancient castle inSalamanca , a spacious apartment on a secluded street inMarseilles , a cottage in the Highlands of Scotland. The castle was his favorite abode. It was even older than he was, but he had refurbished it inside and out, until it again stood upon the hill as proud and glorious as it had once been.

But this place… he found it ironic that one as cursed as he should dwell within its walls, that a place that had once been hallowed by the presence of hundreds of righteous, God-fearing men should now be inhabited by a demon most foul.

Crosswick Abbey had once been a beautiful edifice, home of the Brotherhood of the Sacred Heart, but now the whitewashed stone walls were gray and crumbling; the stained-glass windows that were still intact were dulled by years of dust and neglect; the cross that had once adorned the steepled roof had decayed long since.

Why hadn't she been afraid?

He walked past the chapel, past the long row of small, cold cells, into the high-ceilinged room that had once been used to welcome visitors to the abbey. It was the largest room in the building save for the chapel.

He dropped into the huge, high-backed chair he had taken for his own. For the first time in decades, he was filled with self-loathing for who and what he was. What right did he have to survive at the cost of another's life? What right did he have to inflict his presence on a child as pure and sweet as Sara Jayne? She would be horrified if she knew what manner of creature came to her in the dark of the night.

He stared at the blood on his hands, and knew he could not see her again.

She waited for him the next night, and the next. And when a week passed and still he did not come, she refused to leave her room, refused to eat, or to drink anything except a little water now and then.

With the covers pulled up to her chin, she stared at the veranda doors, waiting, knowing he would not come.

Sister Mary Josepha and Sister Mary Louisa hovered over her, begging her to eat something, weeping softly when she refused to answer their questions. Kneeling at her bedside, they prayed for her soul.

"What is it, Sara Jayne?" they asked time and again. "Are you ill? In pain? Please, child, tell us what's wrong."

But she couldn't tell them about Gabriel, so she only shook her head, silent tears tracking her cheeks.

The doctor came, only to go away shaking his head. She overheard him tell the good sisters there was nothing physically wrong with her; it was only that she had lost the will to live.

And so she had. With a sigh, she closed her eyes. Soon, she would no longer be a burden to anyone.