Chapter four
Blessed…
He was at her feet and he felt her arms come round him sheltering. He was bathed in her silver light.
Warm and familiar the scent of comfort filled him. He clung to that comfort holding it to him.
She held him close to her heart with a tenderness that he thought gone from his experience. It poured over him.
Her tenderness had nothing to do with weakness. He could felt her iron will and fierce determination underlying. His heart swelled and his relief was overflowing. He could be safe from torment here.
Her warm living hands moved softly over his chilled flesh and her voice was a balm to his agony.
"Shhhh, hush, you're safe now, you're safe now."
He knew he was sobbing and felt his body shuddering as he tried vainly to contain the tormenting emotions churning through him.
"Shhhh, hush, you're safe now."
He was struggling to block the memories and images.
He saw again Mendoza's hand on the device buried in his heart. There had been such pain.
He heard the inquisitor's voice admonishing him:
"Smite, the beast that corrupts your soul,"
That voice whirling in his thoughts…
"The beast that corrupts your soul… "
"The beast that corrupts…"
"I have revealed his true nature".
"His true nature…"
"Behold the beast."
Then he heard her whisper, "Shhhh, you're safe now."
Shamed and cloaked in his human guise he raised his face to hers. The evidence of his torment was wet on his cheeks.
"Betty, I…" he began.
She leaned away from him and withdrew slightly. She gazed down on him.
No! He tightened his arms. No, please!
"Not here." She said "Not now."
Pain flared bright and hot in his chest.
"Don't show me that mask, it's not who I love and it's not you. Lay your mask aside you don't need it here." she declared.
The silvery radiance of her compassion engulfed him, as though when the clouds over the moon are swept aside.
He heard her spirit call to him. "Come to me."
His nature answered. He felt his eyes darkened and felt the slide of his fangs.
She raised a steady hand to his face and he rested the weight of his head against her palm as she cradled his jaw.
"Ah, that's better." and then she continued softly "You are so beautiful."
He scented her, finding tenderness, sadness and empathy. Though he quested, there was not a trace of the fear scent.
The tension left him in a rush and she enfolded him once more in her arms. Her heart beat beneath his cheek, steady and sure.
Yet her hearts beating could drown out the voice of the priest that clamored in his mind.
"Smite, the beast that corrupts your soul,"
"Your soul is black; the penance for your sins is death"
"Smite, the beast that corrupts your soul,"
A warning tendril of fear curled along his back as the sun trembled below the horizon.
Do I owe a penance? He questioned himself. He questioned the voice that haunted him.
"The penance is death."
"You'll break, you all break"
"The penance is death"
Betty's whispered assurances filled his ears. "You're safe now and nothing will harm you here. You can lay down your grief for today."
The sun's warning was more insistent now. He felt it as an increasing heaviness that coiled along his limbs.
I would need only to wait, he thought. Could he not quiet Mendoza's voice?
"Smite, the beast that corrupts your soul,"
Betty's voice drew him to her.
"I knew you would come and I have prepared your safe room for you. Will you stay? It's almost dawn." Then as though she divined his thoughts she said more insistently, "Tell me you will stay."
He struggled to escape.
"… and all the world wondered after the beast…"
"Smite, the beast that corrupts your soul,"
He rose to his feet, his spirit bleeding and his heart raw.
He surrendered to her will.
"Please."
He followed her to the room that he had used upon occasion over the years. His eyes travelled to the blackout curtains over the plywood filled windows. The familiar lassitude overcoming his will told him the sun was brightening the sky just beyond.
She turned on the bedside lamp though he had no need.
He dropped heavily to the edge of the bed and his eyes returned again to the curtains with a dread fascination.
The sun was so close.
Mendoza's voice urged,
"Smite, the beast that corrupts your soul,"
He felt her seat herself beside him and she lifted one of his hands into her lap stroking the base of his thumb gently.
At length, he could turn away to look at her.
"Can you break this lock?" she asked… touching the leather strap encircling his wrist.
How could he have forgotten it? Suddenly he couldn't bear the touch of the leather against his flesh. With a sharp jerk he broke the lock and fumbled with the buckle.
She covered his hand with her own.
"Let me." She released him, her touch warm as she gently massaged the flesh of his wrist.
The sun edged over the horizon now, he could sense it. The sun was a thin flaming crescent from which the night was retreating.
She knelt to remove his boots and his eyes returned to the curtains.
He sat still under her care, deciding. Yes…he wanted to stay with her.
She told him, "Lie down Henry, you need to rest." Obediently he stretched himself out on the bed.
His limbs settled to the mattress and he found he could no longer command them. He felt her draw the cover over his body.
He wanted to stay with her and he forced his eyes open, drinking in the silver nimbus that surrounded her.
The day wrapped bands of iron around his chest. He wanted to stay.
She began to turn away. His body had betrayed him and he could not follow. He struggled for breath. The retreating night was calling him on. He wanted to stay and ignoring all else he focused on her.
"S-stay with m-me," he whispered.
He felt her hand on his hair. He was bathed in a fountain of silvery light.
"I'm here," she said," I'll watch over you".
The night required his attendance and sharply commanded him now. He had no choice but to surrender. His eyes closed and a voice swirled out of the beckoning darkness…whispering.
"Behold the beast…"