"Are you sure, Mary? I mean…you said he let you go. It doesn't matter anymore."

She nodded silently, tears in her young eyes. "It has to be done. We can't take the chance, Simon. You know that."

"I just think it's wrong. I never supported it."

"We must, Simon. We just can't overlook it. It's different…our situation."

He rubbed her hands and looked into her eyes. "We made a mistake, ok? That doesn't mean the baby has to pay for it. How can I convince you that there is no way what happened to you will ever happen to it?"

She shook her head. "You can't."

He sighed. "How about this; I foot the bill for any security you want. Bury him in concrete, sink him in the ocean, send him into outer space. But don't get this done. Don't kill it."

Mary looked up and smiled a sad, wistful grin. "You really want it? What are you going to tell Leslie? That you went and slept with another woman who can't raise the baby without being sick every time she sees its face? Are you going to raise it yourself?"

Simon shook his head. "Please, don't get the operation. Put him or her up for adoption. But don't abort it. Promise me."

She looked into her lap and nodded slightly. "Alright. I'll have it."

Suddenly, he was in the clinic with them. As Mary was holding her baby girl, telling herself not to fall in love with it; as Simon was there with her and looking with pride on his daughter, he stood in the doorway with a look of astound on his face.

Mary saw him first. "It's a dream," she murmured, holding her baby closer. "He's not there."

But he crossed the room and crouched beside the bed. Simon didn't seem to notice him. In fact, Simon got up to go get a cup of coffee for himself.

"Please…" she whispered. "Simon, don't leave me here!"

He was pulling down the pink blanket a tiny bit to see the child's face. Mary tried to snatch her away, but he slowly pried her hands open and took the baby away.

"No!" she cried out, but no one heard. He stood beside her, looking down on the babe with his sinister eyes and cruel grin. She reached over, grabbing the hem of his shirt and trying to yank him down so she could pull her daughter back, but she was so weak from labor.

He knelt back down and gave the child back to its mother. Mary snatched the baby out of his grasp and cradled her, not willing to ever let him touch it again.

And all of a sudden, he dissipated and Simon was back, smiling like nothing had ever happened.

"You're a sneaky woman," he laughed as she was coming to.

Mary's eyes were blurred, but she realized she was in bed, and he was sitting next to her. "What?" she managed.

"I never would have guessed. But your memories…I didn't have to guess. I needed only watch."

"You…" she hissed. "You…went into my memories! You saw-…"

"Everything. I was there, remember?"

"The…the baby…" she tried. "It wasn't…it's not-…"

"Shhh." He placed a finger over her lips. "It's no use lying. I saw. I know now."

"No!"

"Mary," he said quietly. "We could have gone on forever. But you wasted precious time; all those years. Now, you are too old. You tried to end my dream by locking me away and living. But you've shot yourself in the foot, with your little escapade with Simon," he chuckled.

"No…"

"You have no idea what I'm going to do to her."

And he was gone.

"NOOO!" Mary screamed when she realized she was alone again.

She frantically scrambled for the phone and dialed Simon's home number. When he didn't pick up, she tried his cell. Both attempts proved fruitless.

"God, oh God," she gasped. She threw open her drawers and sought out the phone book. Scrolling the lists, she finally came up with the one she wanted.

"Hello? Yes, I know it's late. My name is Mary Van Helsing. I'm calling to find out where my daughter went twenty years ago."

The person on the other line yawned. "Ma'am, that's confidential. I'm afraid you'll need to be down here in order for us to verify your-…"

"When are you there till?"

"We shut down in an hour, Ms. Helsing."

She hung up and made for the car.

Mary knocked hard on the glass pane in the door. She practically wore off the "S" in "Sylvan's Adoption Agency" with her attack on the door.

The lock made a click and the door swung open to reveal a squat old woman with horn-rimmed spectacles.

"You must be Ms. Van Helsing, then?" she asked.

Mary nodded and followed the woman inside. They sat down at a cheap desk and the woman pushed a manila folder towards her. She picked it up and leafed through it.

"But…there's nothing here. Nothing except my form I filled out that day and…a receipt for a dinner at a fast-food restaurant!"

The woman sighed and nodded. "Yes. It seems your girl wasn't adopted through us. She remained here for about ten years before she went missing. We finally tracked her down at a local seminary, where the nuns had already taken her in. We weren't able to extract her, and the sisters seemed truly happy to have her, so we let them keep her."

"Which seminary? I have to know!"

"Ms. Van Helsing," the woman said, folding her palms and sighing. "For nineteen years, you haven't shown the slightest interest in your daughter. Now suddenly you are demanding to see her?"

"Yes!" Mary practically snarled. "I must find her!"

The woman yawned and went to her computer. "We found her at the Magdalene Order of the Cross. Three streets east and two north; that's where you'll find more information."

Mary stood and left. By the time she'd gotten to the convent, it was one in the morning.

Sister Margaret Elizabeth let her in and sat her down in the church. They shared a pew and Mary kept asking about her daughter until finally Sister Margaret gave in.

"Ms. Van Helsing, your daughter, if this girl really is your daughter, is one of the sisters here at the Magdalene Order. Her name's Mercy Cypress now. Well, Sister Mercy Cypress," she answered with a proud smile. "She just took her vows last night, actually."

Mary breathed a little easier. A nun! Perhaps she'd be a bit more protected from his reach within the confines of the church.

"Thank you, Sister," Mary sighed. "It means so much to me that you took her in. Had things been different…"

"Yes, I know," the elderly woman responded. "I'm sure you would have been a wonderful mother. Perhaps you still can be."

"No," Mary said, looking away. "I could never be a mother to my child. But I'm still happy for her."

"Well, that's all that counts in the end."

Mary let her gaze drift from the altar to a wall tapestry nearby. It was a rendition of the Last Supper. Instinctively, she looked to the end of the table to see Judas Iscariot and shuddered. He was out there, but he would never touch her baby. She was safe in Jesus' care.

"Goodnight, Sister. I'm sorry for disturbing you," Mary said, standing and making to go.

"Ma'am," she answered. "You look dreadfully tired. Perhaps it's not resolve you're looking for, but to have your guilt removed. One of the fathers would be glad to hear your confession."

"No, thank you. I'll be alright."