AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Lucifer laughed. “And who will save her from you?” He melted back into his human form, but blue flame still flickered in his eyes. “She may beg me to take her from you before it’s all over.”
“Stay away from her,” Asher said.
“No, brother,” he said, his grin becoming a leer. “You’re the one she banished, remember? You stay away.”
The Priest and the Painting
At dawn, Kelsey got up from her kitchen floor, put her coat back on, and went to the church. No one was around, but the sanctuary was open. She sat on the floor in front of the stained-glass window, the angel visiting Mary with his golden wings and smug, unfeeling face. How could she have been so stupid? How could he have seemed so real?
“Miss?” The black-bearded Irish priest who had frightened her the day before came toward her, the skirt of his cassock rustling like wings. “Dear heart.” He crouched beside her. “Please, let me help if I can.”
She stared at his worn, black leather brogans. “The man who was here with me yesterday, Father,” she said, a tiny glimmer of hope sparking in her memory. The priest had seen Asher, too; he had even spoken to him. “Did you know him?”
“What man, love?” She saw pity in his eyes. “You and I were alone.” She took a ragged breath, a sob threatening to overwhelm her. “You said you wanted to light a candle.” He offered her his bony hand, and finally she took it. In the light from the stained-glass window, the scar on his cheek looked lik
e a purple question mark. “I asked you who it was for, but you told me it was private.”
“I said that?” she said. “That was me?”
“Of course.” He lifted her to her feet with no apparent effort. “I left you to your privacy, and I heard you in here praying alone.”
“Praying,” she repeated with a lunatic snicker.
“You’re obviously troubled, child.” She pulled her hand from his. “Won’t you let me help you?”
She shuddered. “You can’t. Thank you, Father.” She hugged herself, suddenly freezing. “I have to go. Tell Father Tom I hope he feels better soon.”
“You shouldn’t face your burdens alone, dear heart,” he said. “Give me your confession.”
“Goodbye.” Pushing past him, she walked out of the church. She barely saw the people passing by her on the sidewalk, barely felt the wind. She was so cold now she couldn’t feel any colder. A cab slowed down beside her, the driver calling to her, but she barely heard him and didn’t stop.
She walked all the way home, time standing still again, barely feeling her feet. She walked up the steps into her building and up the stairs, walked into her apartment, leaving the door hanging open behind her. She dropped her coat on the floor in the living room and headed up the hall.
She went into Jake’s studio and flipped on the light. Seeing the unfinished painting propped against the wall, she suddenly realized. He had known. That last night when he had known he was leaving her, he had seen that this would happen. She went to the sink and got his brushes, the ones she had cleaned so carefully as soon as she came home from the hospital, the first thing she had done when she came back to the apartment after he was gone. She poured a few inches of turpentine into an empty mayonnaise jar, the sharp smell waking her up. Forcing herself to take every step, she walked over to the unfinished painting. She faced her own image, the Kelsey Jake had loved with the rough sketch of the angel hovering behind her. She had hated this painting, had seen it as a cruel joke. She had thought Jake’s pain had made him want to hurt her, to remind her of what she had been. But that wasn’t true at all. He had wanted to warn her, to protect her the same way he always had.
She squeezed paints onto a palette, gold and pink and brown and icy blue. Taking a long, ragged breath, she started to paint.
She didn’t stop until she was done, sixteen hours later. She had taken off her skirt and sweater to keep the paint off them at some point. Now she stood in her underwear and t-shirt with paint smeared on her face and hands and the other places where she had wiped her face and hands, looking at the painting she had just finished.
The paint was still so wet it glistened. A near-photographic image of Asher, her beautiful hallucination, now covered more than half the canvas. The angel of her dreams now loomed over Jake’s portrait of her, standing behind her. His perfect hands were reaching for her shoulders, almost but not quite touching her; his golden wings were spread. His beautiful face wore the look of terrible sadness he had worn when she sent him away. The woman in the painting seemed oblivious. She was Jake’s Kelsey. She didn’t know what was coming for her.
Suddenly the phone rang, making her jump. For a moment, she considered ignoring it. But if it were Jason, he’d just come over instead, and she couldn’t face him, not when she’d ruined the painting he had loved so much. “Hello?” she said, answering it.
“Kelsey?” It was Jake’s voice, unmistakable. “Honey, is that you?”
“Hello?” she said again, starting to tremble all over.
“Kelsey, this is Lucas Black.” A lump of ice formed in her chest. “The cop from the alley, remember?”
“I remember.” She had been afraid of him.
“Kelsey, I need you to come to County General Hospital,” he said. “A friend of yours has been attacked. A Mrs. Sylvia Berman.”
“Oh my God.” He’s lying, she thought. But why would he lie? “Is she all right?”
He made a noise that could have been a sneeze or could have been a snicker. “Not remotely,” he said. “She’s asking for you.”
“No,” she said. “I can’t come.” She had sworn the last time she’d left County General she’d never set foot there again.
