Jenny awoke and stared at her ceiling, the pop still echoing in her ears. Maybe the boys next door were lighting more firecrackers! She threw her covers aside and padded, barefoot, over to the window. The street was dark, darker than normal. She realized that the streetlamps had gone out. Did they have to pay for the streetlamps? She couldn't remember.

Her bedroom door burst open and she whirled in surprise. Her eldest brother, Greg, closed and door and leaned his back against his. His wild eyes danced around the room until they landed on her and Jenny tried to back away farther. His eyes scared her.

"Jenny!" he hissed and ran over to her. He grabbed her wrist and started tugging on her.

"Ow! You're hurting me!"

"Shut up!" She fell silent. Greg was never harsh with her. "You have to hide." She reached out and grabbed the rosary on her nightstand as he tugged her toward the closet. Her grandmother had given it to her upon her First Communion. The medallion had a few drops of water from Massielle in it. Greg opened the door.

"Sinners! You're all sinners!" Their father's voice drifted through the closed door and they both froze, staring at the door in horror.

Greg continued to shove her in the closet. "You have to hide. Dad's gone nuts!" He closed the door behind her. "Don't move and don't say anything!"

"What about—"

"Shut up!" he whispered again. "I'm going to call for help."

He reached for the bedroom door when it flew open, knocking him off balance. Jenny watched through the slats of the door as Greg backed away to the window. She watched their father advance like a predator she saw on Discovery. Words, familiar and comforting, began to flow though her mind even as she was unable to look away from the horror unfolding before her.

"What are you doing here, boy?"

Hail Mary, full of grace…

"N—nothing, Daddy. Why do you have a gun?"

The Lord is with thee…

"I have to cleanse you of your sins!" he raved, taking another step.

Blessed art thou amongst women…

"You don't have to do this, Daddy!"

And blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus…

"You've been fornicating, haven't you? Sinning with your sister?"

Holy Mary, mother of God…

"I don't even know what that is!"

Pray for us sinners…

"Liar! Sinner!" The gunshot was deafening in the room.

Now

Greg collapsed to his knees, clutching his chest. He looked up at his father. "God…help!" he whispered.

And at the hour of our death.

Their father stared down at the body. "Oh, God! What have I done? What have I done?" he repeated in a whisper. He raised the gun one more time and pulled the trigger. Jenny covered her ears as another gunshot resonated through the small room. Tears flowed down her face and she was finally able to look away.

Amen.

Jennifer tore herself from sleep with a gasp. Her sheets were soaked with sweat as they twined about her body like a vine. She untangled herself as she tried to force the images from her mind. They refused to leave and she knew that she wouldn't be able to sleep again. She rose from bed and threw a robe around her shoulders, shivering as the cool air touched her drying skin.

She slid her feet into slippers and walked out of the tiny room, barely glancing at the sigils carved on the door jamb. Every door and window frame had similar ones for protection. She stepped into the dingy living room and crossed to a window. Grime had built up in the corners and a layer of dirt covered the glass. She stared down at the cars below, grateful for their pinpoints of light below the streetlamps.

Her eyes focused on a slight movement reflected in the glass. That would be her protector, Holden. She was confident that nothing malicious could enter the apartment; she had faith in the sigils and charms. There was movement again and she knew it was Holden returning to his own bed. This was not the first night she had risen hours before the sun. He knew by now that it was the nightmares that kept sleep at bay, nightmares that she refused to share and so he knew that the only thing he could do was finish sleeping.

Jennifer sat down in the old recliner that no longer reclined and picked up the book on the coffee table. Lamb. One of the only personal belongings she had managed to shove in her suitcase before she fled. She opened it to the marked page and removed the bookmark. It was a folded piece of paper with a hasty note scrawled on it. The note was going to save her life, she just knew it.

Shifting her weight slightly, she settled in to read the well-known words again.

Holden's internal clock woke him as dawn broke. He threw back the covers once again and dressed quickly. He entered the small bathroom, watching cockroaches scramble from the grungy light. The water was immediately rusty as he twisted the knob, then ran clear. Well, clearer anyway. He brushed his teeth and combed his hair, then lathered his face with shaving cream. Deodorant was the final addition to his morning ritual and he was out of the bathroom within fifteen minutes.

Jennifer was napping in the chair. This was no surprise as he had been awakened by her the previous night. The action was familiar, repeating itself at least once a fortnight, usually once a week. He knew she would have stared out the window for a while, then read in between dozing. At one time, he had kept her company after the nightmare, but he soon learned that she wouldn't fall into another sleep deep enough to conjure the images.

He spied the familiar beads wrapped around her right wrist. The fifty-nine beads were hand-carved out of olive wood and strung together with fine silver chain. The Crucifix was also silver and just as delicate as the rest of the rosary. The medallion that usually depicted Mary was what drew his eyes. It was glass and remarkably hadn't shattered yet. Inside contained several drops from Lourdes, France, supposedly from the same grotto that Saint Bernadette had, upon the instruction of Mary, revealed a spring. He couldn't recall a time when he saw her without the rosary.

She stirred and her hazel eyes opened. "Morning," she said with a slight smile. She glanced toward the window to where the golden sun was already filtering through the window. "Just got up?"

He nodded. "Jen…why are we in LA anyway? You told me on the plane that it was important. I think I have a right to know."

"You're from LA, aren't you?"

If he was surprised by her sudden question, his face didn't betray it. "I am. But if you're looking for allies, I doubt we'll find any here."

"No, but you'll be able to track down this a lot faster than I." She handed him the note.

Holden took it and read it. He lifted his eyes to her. "You're joking, right?" She shook her head. "You want to track him down. Why?"

"Because he is the only one that can help me."

"How do you know that?"

"That note was left for me just before you…before we met."

"And you just trust it? How do you know this guy isn't just an assassin and the person that left the note for you isn't trying to deliver you to him?"

She rose to her feet, the book sliding from her lap to land on the floor. "Because of the note. When I touched it, I knew the person was only trying to help. You must have heard of him."

"Of course I've heard of him," Holden scoffed. "Doesn't mean I trust him."

"But you don't disagree that he can help."

He sighed. "No. I don't. I suppose we can ask him for help."

"Not we. You."

His eyebrows shot up. "And what will you be doing?"

"Praying." Her tone suggested that it was obvious. "I need to go to Confession too."

"What the hell could you possibly have to Confess?"

"That is between God and myself. Besides, I will be safe in church; they wouldn't try to harm me in a house of God."

She was right. Again. It prompted another sigh. "Fine. I'll take you to the nearest church and then I'll find him. But you—"

"I won't leave the church," she interrupted. "I have a feeling we've reached our final destination. It's as if a storm is settling over the city," she said absently. "I won't be running any further."

Holden felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It was if she was attempting to prophesize, but the words were just out of reach. He hated seeing her in this state; it made him feel creepy and his skin crawl.

She abruptly rose. "I'll go get dressed."

The church was quiet and devoid of life. Walking up the aisle, Jennifer genuflected before sliding into a pew. She gently dropped the kneeler and knelt, producing the rosary from her sweater pocket. Despite being from the east, the morning air had chilled her and so she grabbed the sweater on her way out of the apartment. The ride over had been uneventful; Holden had warded the car against evil as well as the apartment. There had only been that one night, but it was one neither had wished to repeat.

She bowed her head as her fingers gripped the Crucifix. "I believe in God, the Father Almighty…"

Jennifer lost track of time as she continued around the beads. "…and obtain what they promise, through the same Christ Our Lord. Amen." She lifted her head and realized that there were considerably more people in the chapel. She still felt at ease and confident that nothing could harm her.

The confessionals weren't difficult to find and she opened the door to one and slipped inside, closing it softly behind her so as not to disturb the other penitents. She knelt once more and moments later, the divider slid open.

Crossing herself, Jennifer said, "In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. Forgive me, father, for I have sinned. It has been…two weeks since my last confession." She hesitated.

"What sins have you committed, child?" the priest prompted kindly.

"I…I'm afraid God is testing my faith and I'm afraid I will fail. I'm afraid my faith isn't as strong as Job's."