“People
who cease to believe in God or goodness altogether still believe in the
devil. I don't know why. No, I do indeed know why. Evil is always
possible. And goodness is eternally difficult.”
- Anne Rice, Interview With a Vampire
Julien
was alone in the stone cell. He paced its perimeter repeatedly until
finally positioning himself seated against the unforgiving wall opposite
the cell door. He stared straight ahead and tried not to think of her. Focusing
on the cracks in the stone and the number of blocks stacked to form his
enclosure, he memorized the angles and the dimensions. He struggled to
think of anything he could to keep the despair from creeping in,
anything to keep the memories of their final moments together out of his
thoughts, anything but of her.
His
concentration wavered as something was slipped through the bars of the
cell door. It was immediately recognizable to him, even in the dim
lighting, as a medical grade pint of red blood cells. Although his
hunger was freshly sated by the girl’s last remaining ounce of life, it
called to him. The more he tried to ignore its presence, the louder its
call became. Thankfully, it remained unopened because he doubted he was
strong enough to resist the scent of what was within.
His
jaw clenched, and his fists tightened as a pain started to build in the
back of his throat. For distraction, he imagined himself back in France
in the Church of Saint-Pierre de Montemartre. Staring up at the ceiling, he closed his eyes and began to chant.
“AVE
MARIA, gratia plena, Dominus tecum. Benedicta tu in mulieribus, et
benedictus fructus ventris tui, Iesus. Sancta Maria, Mater Dei, ora pro
nobis peccatoribus, nunc, et in hora mortis nostrae. Amen.”
Over
and over, he chanted the words, repeating them until they became
senseless in his mind. He could not allow himself to look in the
direction of the blood bag. He place his head between his knees and
squeezed his eyes tighter. When his mind started to wander, wondering
what blood type was written across the bag in bold letters or to how
fresh it may be, he changed prayers. When he started to reminisce about
the sensation of his lips on warm flesh or the sound of a pulse echoing
in his ears, he changed prayers. When he thought about her scent in his
nostrils and her flavor in his mouth, he changed prayers.
When
Agent Wolfe appeared at the cell door, he did not look up. He
recognized her footsteps and her smell. After a long silence, she
finally spoke. “Mr. Durant, tell me, why should I spare you?”
“You should not.” He replied.
“And why is that?”
“I am a monster. I deserve to be ended. I wish to be ended.”
“And why should I give you what you desire?” Her voice hinted at genuine curiosity.
“You should not.”
She
said nothing else as her footsteps disappeared down the long corridor.
It was silent once again. He was alone; alone with the blood.
He
imagined himself back in the Spiritual Exercises. He had conquered the
evil and disorder within him once so many years ago. It could be done
again. Ruth taught him that. It took losing her to prove to him that he
had the choice, he simply needed to take it.
But now she was dead.
Read more at : https://leanpub.com/beyondthereachofjudgement
(Note, this is not the finished novel but a "pre-final-edit version". Complete novel, post editing and formatting will be available this summer!)
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