Mary and Mercy were embracing, and Mercy was crying a tiny bit.
"Why didn't you ever visit? Send word? I'm not angry at you!" Mercy cried.
"I couldn't. I was so afraid for you; that this would happen. And now it has and for once I feel like I should act my station more than ever. I know it's pushy, but I may be the only one who understands what you're going through," Mary sobbed as well.
Simon, who was rubbing Mercy's back reassuringly, sighed. "Ladies, I know this is a tender moment, but we have bigger fish to fry. We need to get Mercy somewhere safe."
"Safer than a church?" Mary asked.
"Yes and no. This church is no good anymore; he knows where she is. Between now and dusk, she needs to get to another church where we've got a good supply of crucifixes, holy water, bibles and other religious paraphernalia."
"Yes, you're right," Mercy answered, standing up and straightening her habit. "We must do this."
"That's the spirit. Come on, Mary. Let's go."
Merely hours later, they were standing in front of the Notre Dame cathedral in Paris. "This is the safest place we can get you, Mercy," Simon explained. "Short of the Vatican, who'll never believe us in a hundred years, this might be the holiest establishment from here to Kingdom Come."
"It's so beautiful!" she gasped, looking up at its towering spires.
They ascended the steps and knocked on the doors. One swung open and in front of them stood a short monk, dressed in brown robes and his eyes wide.
"Oui?" he asked.
"Oh, damn!" Simon cursed. "I forgot; they speak French."
"It would make sense," Mary smirked. "We are in France."
Simon turned back to the monk and tried to get through to him. "We…need…to…see…the…head…priest!" he explained, making significant hand motions and generally looking like a fool. "Understand? Head priest!"
The monk cocked his head and in perfect English with only a slight accent he answered back with a slight laugh, "Follow me, please. And do stop waving your arms around; you look like a bird."
The three astounded people outside entered and followed the monk through the huge cathedral until they reached a large office in one of the wings. A tall man with gray hair stood to greet them and extended his hand.
"Wonderful to meet you. And look! A sister of the faith!" he exclaimed when he saw Mercy in her nun's outfit. "What branch are you from?"
"The Magdalene Order of the Cross in London, Father," she answered.
"Ah. Lovely little seminary; I visited once. Now, what can I help you with?" he offered.
Simon responded first. "This nun needs sanctuary, Father. Something terrible will happen to her if she remains in the convent that she came from."
"Sanctuary? Well, of course we can offer that, especially for a sister. But what from, sir? Who would want to harm a nun?"
"Father, you'd never believe us if we told you."
The man raised an eyebrow and nodded. "Fine. She is our welcome guest for as long as need be. What do you need?"
"Just a bible, some holy water and a crucifix, Father, thank you," Mercy requested.
"Well, included we'll throw in a bed and a roof over your head," he smiled. "And what of you two?" he asked of Mary and Simon. "Do you need a place as well?"
"No, thank you. It's just for her."
"Come then, Sister…?"
"Mercy Cypress, sir. Sister Mercy Cypress."
"Yes. Come along then. It was nice meeting you two as well."
They watched Mercy leave with the priest and Mary sighed. "If she isn't safe here, we might have to take her to the Vatican. Maybe we can make them understand…"
Simon shook his head. "There's no way. They'll think we're heretics. This is the absolute last line of defense we've got for her. And we can't fight him like last time; we're too old."
She gave him a stern look. "Excuse me? I'm only fifty-seven!"
"And I'm sixty-two. We aren't exactly spring chickens," he laughed.
"I can still slap with the best of them."
"And I'm sure with all your slapping, he'll just turn tail and slink away. Fangs and charisma be damned."
She pouted a bit, rather unbecoming for a woman of her years. "We should stay close," she insisted.
"That we will. I saw a hotel about two streets down. Let me call Leslie and tell her."
"What on earth are you going to say?"
"The same thing I always say when I'm coming to stay with you. 'My sister's medication is off and I'm the only one who can calm her down long enough for the doctors to sedate her.'"
"You always know just what to say."
Mercy stood beside her small bed in one of the forgotten rooms that lined the upper levels. It had been quickly outfitted as a makeshift bedroom and the priest made sure she received a small basin of blessed water, a bar to kneel and pray on in front of a cross fixed to the wall, and a bible.
She had insisted that she didn't need a space of her own, but he wouldn't be fazed. He was determined to protect her from the unnamed evil, come Hell or high water. She respected that and silently praised him for it.
Seeing a small window above her bed, she sucked in a breath and quickly locked it. Then she knelt on the bar and began a Hail Mary. She was so immersed in prayer that she never noticed the small wisps of fog leaking in from outside the door.
The cathedral hall is huge and echoes with sounds that seem to come from nowhere. She realizes she doesn't have her habit on; her hair hangs loose over her nun's dress. Worrying that someone might see her like this, she rushes through the great hall, looking for the hallway that leads to her room.
She sees someone at the altar, lighting the tapered candles. Afraid to show herself, she ducks behind a pillar and waits for the father to finish and leave.
But the funny thing is, no matter how many candles he lights, more appear to replace them, or others go out. So he keeps dipping his light down onto the wicks for quite some time.
Finally she gets up the nerve to try to dart across the great hall without him seeing her. She makes it ten feet, halfway there, when suddenly someone is standing in her way as if from nowhere.
It's the man. The one from before, and he is in a Father's smock, darkly smiling.
Before she can stop, she runs smack into him, but he doesn't move. Instead, he puts his hand behind her head and suddenly they're kissing and she can't break away and the same ripping feeling explodes in her gut…
"Mother!"
Mercy's eyes snapped open and she realized she was crying. Wiping away the tears, she gave a sidelong glance at the window and realized it was still very dark. It was probably around two or three in the morning from the way the church was still empty and still.
Her skin prickled and she touched a hand to her face. It had seemed so very real! What under God had that man been, that he could make her feel like this? Like she was so insignificant, so unimportant, even to herself? How could any of God's children invoke these kinds of feelings?
She shook her head to wake herself. Sitting up, she let out a breath of air and mentally steeled herself. You are hundreds of miles away. You are hidden in a house of God. No demon could ever set foot in here. You are safe.
No, you're not.
The second voice of her subconscious surprised her. Trying to hear the quiet voice in the back of her mind, she held her breath.
No matter where you go, or how hard you try…
Blood will out.
"But I have no strange blood," she whispered into the darkness surrounding her. "My parents; I just met them. They're fine people. And I am a sister."
Tainted blood. Unclean blood. You are not human.
"I am!"
You are better than that.
"I am not!"
You don't belong in that cathedral. God doesn't want you there. Leave.
"I will not!"
She realized she was standing now, in her white bed gown and shouting at the shadows. A scuffle from outside and an elderly nun poked her head in the door.
"You alright, child? I heard noises."
Mercy gave her a blank stare. "Yes, Mother. I'm fine. Just…just a bad dream."
"Alright. Get some sleep, sister. Duties commence in three hours." She left.
Mercy got back into bed, a little afraid, and decided she'd ask her parents about it in the morning.