Chapter Sixteen – Jemima
"Okay, go." John urged quietly, watching as Ayako walked calmly across the grounds, her voice raising as she saw Yuuki ahead of her. The young teen paused in her patrol to approach the older woman. With his trained hearing John could just make out the gist of their conversation. Ayako was demanding to know what she was doing out of class, and Yuuki was explaining her position, even getting out a pass to prove that she was who she said she was. "Now." John whispered, leading the way across the grounds, going behind Yuuki.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" Ayako's voice snapped, John and Monk-san pausing as Yuuki almost turned her head to look at them, stopping at Ayako's sharp tone and stammering out an apology as John led the way to the side of the school building. Monk-san paused against the wall gasping from the short run, reminding himself once again to never get on Ayako's bad side.
"That was close!" Monk-san sighed as he looked at John, who was fully alert, his cobalt eyes darting to the other side of the building. It seemed the younger teen had done this sort of thing before, which made the monk wonder what kind of work he'd done as an exorcist.
"Not as close as this. Into that doorway! Go!" John urged, shoving Monk-san towards the stone archway just as the platinum haired boy walked calmly into sight. Before Monk-san could even think to object or say anything John had run out into the boy's line of sight, and was currently leading him away from the monk's hiding place. Thanks kiddo! Monk-san thought as he continued sneaking his way along to the office as quietly as possible, having no trouble getting through the ancient lock.
The records must be in his office somewhere! Monk-san thought as he entered the grand room, silently apologising for his intrusion as he made his way to the desk and sat on the edge, looking around the room thoughtfully. There were no cabinets in sight that he could rummage through, but there is a door over there…He observed as he pushed himself away from the desk and made his way to the locked door. Using the hairpins he'd borrowed from Ayako he swiftly unlocked the door and entered, using his small flashlight to look around.
The room had several wooden cabinets, which he opened one by one to find the Day Class student records, the teacher records, and finally he reached the Night Class records. Opening the draw he took out the large stack. I don't think I need all of them…just a few. He thought, taking some of the files he recognised and shutting the drawer. Closing the doors he made his way out into the grounds, walking as calmly as possible towards the Sun Dorm. I just hope John and Ayako have kept those two busy!
John focused on his breathing as he ran, keeping it as level as possible. It had been a long time since he'd had such a work out. Back in his hunter days he'd outrun many creatures of the night, but Zero was giving him trouble. He'd almost been caught more than once, and he needed to give Monk-san as much time as possible in the office before he let himself get caught.
"I said stop!" Zero's angry voice snapped from behind, clearly not pleased at being given the run around. Strange…His speed is almost like a vampire…John thought, deeply troubled by the thought as he made his way across the grounds. It wasn't a theory he wanted to test tonight at any rate.
"What on Earth do you think you're doing?" Ayako's voice demanded as she stepped out in front of him, Zero almost running into John's back at his sudden stop. Yuuki gave Zero a sheepish look as Ayako folded her arms and stared at them both sternly. Zero gave his explanation, effectively making John the bad guy.
"I left my bible in my desk Miss. I was just going to retrieve it when this boy came out of nowhere and started chasing me." John excused innocently, Ayako giving him a stern warning before rounding on Zero, who should announce himself more clearly in future. The prefects were not in place so that they could terrorise students and staff and chase them around the grounds.
"It won't happen again." Yuuki assured gently, seeing the way Zero was grinding his teeth impatiently at the telling off. She quickly put her hands on his shoulders and hurried him away, leaving John and Ayako watching after them silently. I am going to have to watch them more closely in the future…
"I saw Houshou heading back to the dorm. We should get back too. I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast." Ayako reported, John nodding his agreement as he made his way back to his room.
"Good morning Jemima." John greeted with a smile as he took the seat beside her in class. As usual she had already been gone when he woke up, and he'd spent part of the morning at church, so this was the first time he'd seen her all day. The rest of the class stared open-mouthed at the exchange, waiting to see whether JW would shout at him or just hit him for such friendliness.
"Hey John, how was the church?" She asked, whispers breaking out as John gave his usual friendly response. John was glad that they could finally drop the pretence. At first Jemima had insisted they ignore each other in school, but slowly John had managed to give her enough friendly words and greetings throughout the day to mellow her. Out of school they spent almost all of their free time together, either at home or at the church, much to his father's disapproval.
"Hey, JW, what's the story? He a friend of yours now?" One of Jemima's friends asked. John didn't know her name, but he didn't think her a particularly good friend. No one had ever wondered where she was or why she didn't return their calls when she'd been in trouble.
"As a matter of fact, he is." Jemima replied with a tough look that said, 'And what are you going to say about it?' The girl immediately sat back in her seat with an apologetic expression. As Jemima looked across at John she lost that toughness and smiled brightly, John smiling with her as they turned to the board and started work. That was another thing that had improved. Jemima was up to date in all of her studies now, and was doing her homework every night.
"Do you want to come to the church this evening? I have some work to do there." John said quietly as they copied the geography work from the board. Jemima paused to look across at him thoughtfully. Her pen tapped on her page lightly, as it always did when she was thinking.
"Is that for the Bowers' wedding?" She asked, John nodding his head, to which Jemima replied she would love to come. For the past few weeks she'd been helping him decorate and redecorate the church for every event. Weddings were her favourite, but they'd had two funerals and a festival too. Not to mention a fair to raise funds for the repair of the church roof. She had become a never ending topic of conversation for his congregation, who had gone from being very wary of her to absolutely adoring her.
Every Sunday Jemima would come to the church and sit watching John's sermons, quietly and patiently, after which she would help him clear away the bibles and clean the pews and aisle for the next week. She arranged flowers for weddings and funerals surprisingly well, and she would help counting the money and check his records for him to make sure it was all accounted for.
Whispers continued to travel around the school at lunch, when John sat with Jemima instead of on his own. They sat next to each other looking through plans for the church. Where the flower arrangements would go, where the bride's family would be, and the groom's family, not to mention the width of the aisle for the dress, ushers and bridesmaids. The church wasn't very big, but they would definitely have enough room if they shifted the pews over a little.
As they left the school John noticed a small crowd had formed around the gates. There was shouting. A disturbance of some sort. Jemima gave him a shrug as they hurried towards the commotion. Jemima froze as she recognised the angry voice of her father as he shouted at a very timid Miss Price, who insisted he couldn't come into the grounds in his drunken state. John lurched forwards as Miss Price fell to the ground holding her reddened cheek.
"She said you cannot enter here." John stated as he stepped in front of the woman, who was helped to her feet by a concerned Jemima. She apologised quietly for her father's outburst. At John's words the dark haired man squinted at him groggily. The surrounding students watched in anticipation, fully expecting John to be the next on the floor.
"What's it to you…dog collar?" He demanded, John wincing from the strong smell of vodka, or it could have been some other spirit, he wasn't entirely sure. Jemima stepped forward beside John, her father immediately rounding on her. He shouted about how she had walked out on him like her mother, and how she wouldn't be doing it again. "I'll show you…Show you how to respect a man! That's what I'll do!" He stammered as he grabbed her arm, the weaker girl unable to break his grip as he dragged her towards his car.
"Get your hand off her!" John snapped as he forced himself between them, his cobalt eyes blazing for the first time that anyone could remember. No matter what insult they threw at him John had always been calm. He had brushed it off with a simple smile. This time the students could see his anger, which almost matched the drunken man's. It even seemed stronger. John's silent anger seemed much more intense than the loud drunk as he prodded John in the chest roughly, the younger boy making no sign that he had felt it.
"You telling me what to do boy?" The drunk demanded as he grabbed the front of John's jacket, almost lifting the teen up off the ground. John gave him a look of disgust before kicking the man in the gut and watching him stagger backwards, quickly finding his feet. He could feel Jemima's hand on his shoulder, telling him not to get involved, but John could barely hear her as the blood rushed through is ears.
"I am telling you to leave." John stated plainly, waiting for the large man to make his next move. The students backed off as the drunk straightened up, a few gasping as he flipped a knife on them. John remained still and focused as the man rushed towards him, Jemima screaming as he lunged at John. The teen dodged with ease, spinning into a kick that gently shoved the man off balance and to his knees.
"That's enough! I'm calling the police!" Miss Price shouted, the drunk getting to his feet and retreating, driving away with a simple warning that 'this isn't over!' before disappearing in a trail of exhaust. John quickly pulled Jemima through the crowd, gripping her hand tightly as they made their escape. Once they got to the church John finally turned to Jemima with a relieved sigh, always feeling safer inside the old sanctuary.
"I'm sorry, I hope I didn't." John began, cut off with wide oceanic eyes as he found himself with his back against a wooden pillar. Jemima pulled him down by the neck to press her lips to his in a firm kiss. The young vicar backed off with a stammer as she loosened her grip. Before John could cover his blush, gain his balance or compose himself Jemima had already spoken.
"Don't you ever do that again!" She snapped, almost tearfully as John stood there stunned. He didn't know what to say as she stood staring at him, her face angry, vulnerable, wary, disappointed, and many other unreadable emotions. She was breathless, her eyes were streaming, her lips were slightly red from their kiss, and her shirt had been loosened at the throat at some point.
"I couldn't let him take you back like that. He was going to hurt you." John stated defensively, his cheeks reddening slightly as Jemima stepped forward. She pressed herself against him gently as she looked up at him, her hands reaching up to rest on his shoulders lightly.
"Why not? You don't want me, so why are you so protective?" She asked, John stammering slightly as he tried to think of some sort of response. Just because I deny myself doesn't mean I don't…He thought to himself, wondering how much he really wanted to be a bishop. He hadn't really thought about not becoming a bishop before Jemima, but what if he didn't take the path of a bishop? There were plenty of other things he could do, even just remaining a vicar. "Well?" Jemima pressed, shoving his shoulders for emphasis as she looked up at him with her beautifully vulnerable eyes.
John didn't let her say another word as he leaned down and captured her lips, feeling her melt into him in that moment and knowing that he could never give her up. His father and the church would perhaps call it corruption. John called it love. After a few moments John and Jemima were both surprised to find themselves lying on a pew, John holding himself above her on his forearms. They both smiled in amusement before fusing their lips once more.
"What do you mean going out?" John's father demanded warily, on the edge of anger. John stood his ground as Jemima stared at her plate, both of them knowing that the older man wouldn't take it well. He had never liked Jemima, and it had been his idea for John to become a bishop. Even if he never slept with Jemima the rumours would still be there, and it would be known he'd had a lover of sorts, so he'd never be able to rise to bishop.
"I mean we're dating." John replied calmly, watching as his father's jaw clenched. His teeth worked slowly, as if chewing food, but John knew he was chewing the inside of his mouth. He always did that when he was thinking.
"Who else knows?" He asked thoughtfully, Jemima looking across at John warily.
"No one." John replied honestly, his father breathing a sigh of relief as he lowered his knife and fork to the plate and sat back.
"Then there's still time. Miss Wishart can return home tonight, and we'll pretend none of this ever happened." He decided, both John and Jemima looking on open mouthed. John didn't know how long it was, but the silence hung in the air between them for quite a while before he finally spoke up.
"With all due respect father, I was telling you as a courtesy. Jemima and I are dating, and will continue to do so. Furthermore, this is my house and I have said Jemima will stay for as long as she wishes." John said steadily, his eyes hardening against his father's in a battle of wills as Jemima sat looking between them, her heart pounding at the intensity. Eventually they seemed to have a silent word with each other. John's eyes flicked to the kitchen, and his father nodded in agreement as he got to his feet and picked up his plate. They headed into the kitchen silently, the door shutting behind them.
"Are you out of your mind? You want to give up your career, your life, for a drop out like her?" His father shouted as he dumped his half-finished dinner on the side, his appetite gone. He'd hoped to shield his son from this, though he had thought it would happen sooner or later. He'd been worried about it for weeks.
"Father! Don't exaggerate! There are many other careers I may choose in my field. I'm not limited to one." John replied reasonably as he placed his own plate by the sink and hopped up to sit on the counter. John's father sighed as he leaned on the counter opposite John, his head almost leaning on the higher cupboard as he slouched back.
"John, this is serious. If you have a girlfriend you can never change your mind, you can never become a bishop." He stated, emphasising every word in the hopes that it would get through to John, but he knew his son. He had never made a hasty decision in his life.
"I know father, but I really don't care about that…I would rather have Jemima." John replied with a soft smile, though he knew his father would never understand what he saw in Jemima. He doubted anyone would ever really see it. The other students saw an attractive and cool girl who set herself apart from everyone else with her cold, indifferent attitude. The teachers saw a problem child, a delinquent or a drop out. The people at his church had at first seen a trouble maker, but they were slowly starting to see Jemima's softer side, the side she always showed to John.
"Well, I suppose if you want to throw your life away there's really nothing I can do about it, but don't come crying to me when it all goes wrong." His father replied with an unforgiving tone, but John just smiled and left the room.
From then on they were inseparable, inside school and out, and many students started to see Jemima's lighter side. She stopped wearing black, and wore clothes of all colours, mostly gentle pastels or brown, and she spoke more to the teachers. She and John would now openly hold hands and steal kisses, and soon rumours were flying around the school. Rumours that were not true.
"I heard they're doing it every night!" A girl whispered, John blushing slightly as he looked across at Jemima, who looked back with a soft expression. She tried not to laugh at John's pink cheeks.
"Oh, come on! Who could possibly verify that? He's a vicar! They don't do it until they get married!" The girl's wiser friend replied matter-of-factly. Those weren't the only ones. John had openly been accused of getting Jemima pregnant. Obviously not true, and many students had laughed it off. Due to this talk John had had a meeting with a priest, or a confession. The priest had decided that John was telling the truth, but that he would have to do something about it soon.
John sighed as he slumped back on the bed, Jemima laughing as she lay down beside him and looked across at his exhausted expression. He had been at the church longer than usual due to the meeting with the priest. He felt like he'd been told off, though he had really done nothing wrong. Feeling Jemima shift John turned onto his side, accepting the kiss that she placed on his lips, a gentle chaste kiss. Feeling her push closer John opened his arms for her and folded her to his chest. He turned so that she was pressing down against him, though her legs were still sprawled beside his.
"Jemima…" John objected as things got a little more heated, her hand slowly inching its way down his chest and over his waist to places he really couldn't allow her to go. Jemima hummed questioningly, almost sighing as John took her creeping hands and broke away from her heated kiss to place a gentle one on her palm. "You know I can't…Not unless…" He trailed off, his cheeks colouring slightly.
"Unless?" Jemima pressed as John tore his eyes away from hers and looked at the small hand he had in his grasp, playing with her fingers gently.
"Unless we're married." John concluded, though he knew it wasn't really a possibility. They were too young, by law at least. Besides their youth, John really didn't think that Jemima would be the marrying type. But one can always be surprised…Later in life perhaps…Jemima said nothing for a while, and John smiled across at her, finding that she was deep in thought.
They'd had their first argument, caused by his father of course. Jemima had never known about his plan to become a bishop. He had never wanted to tell her in case she felt responsible. She had accused him of keeping secrets and letting her ruin his chances of a better life. John hadn't realised how bad the argument had become until Jemima stormed out in the rain. He would have followed immediately if his father hadn't stepped in, saying that he should let her go.
"Jesus Christ father! It's my life! Just leave it alone!" John snapped, inwardly apologising for using the Lord's name in vain. His father watched stunned as John ran outside. John didn't really know where she would go. Not back to her father, he was sure of that, but where else? Working on instinct he headed to the church.
"You'll catch a death out here." An eerily familiar voice purred, John stopping with a gasp as he almost ran straight into Lord Farringdon, who stood trim as ever in the middle of the downpour. He looks…dry…John thought, stunned as the stately man stepped forward, sending shivers down John's spine that made him step back. "If you're looking for the weeping girl, she went that way." He obliged, holding up a smart cane to point down the street, away from the church.
"Thank you." John replied, tearing his eyes away from the alluring man to continue on his way.
"You know…you really are the spitting image of your grandfather…" Lord Farringdon's voice said in amusement as it floated through the rain to his ear. Not really understanding the words John hurried on, wondering if it would be possible for him to catch up to Jemima in this storm.
"Jemima!" John shouted, his eyes looking around for a figure ahead, but coming up empty. Rounding a corner John saw her, under a bus shelter, shivering and soaked to the bone. "Jemima…" He sighed as he caught up, watching as she gasped and ran again. The younger boy pumped his legs as fast as he could so that he could catch up to her.
"Let me go!" Jemima cried as he caught her hand and pulled her back to his chest, his arms locking her to him as he tried to turn her to face him in his grasp. He wasn't sure how he managed, but he was looking down at her face and then he had locked his lips to hers. They stood shivering slightly in the cold rain, Jemima's lips both wet and warm against his. "Stop it! Just…Why?" Jemima cried as she pulled back, wiping her wet face on her wet sleeve.
"Because I didn't want you to feel like this. It was my decision." John replied, though he was sure they had gone through all of this already. "Jemima…I can't be happy without you." He confessed, stepping forward to wrap her shivering form in his arms with a smile, feeling her melt into him. "Marry me." He whispered in her ear, feeling her nod against his shoulder.
"It's not too late to change your mind." His father insisted as he stood at the altar, the conducting priest giving John a nod. It was no secret that the church had had high hopes for John, and this decision was disappointing. John almost laughed at the suggestion, but settled for a smile.
"Not in a million years." He replied, watching as one of the teachers escorted Jemima down the aisle, since her father was not in attendance. The ceremony, though not official by law, was good enough for the church. They would be married enough to continue with their private lives undisturbed by rumours again. "You look lovely." John said quietly as he took Jemima's hand, the white silk dress hugging her arms to leave her shoulders bare. The train was a long net, being carried by Louis and another student.
The vows were spoken, and no one interrupted, so John could freely lift the veil and kiss Jemima. The ceremony had been at sunset, so they walked slowly down the path outside, enjoying the deep pink in the distance and the deep blue velvet above as they walked towards the car. John's father hurried ahead to unlock the doors and get them away before night truly fell.
"Have I told you that I love you?" John said quietly as they paused along the path of the graveyard, the guests hurrying ahead so that they could get confetti ready to throw. Jemima smiled as she tapped John's chest with her white lilies.
"Only every day." She teased as John leaned forward to steal a kiss.
"Well-well-well, look at the happy couple." The velvet voice purred from the darkness, John tensing as he turned to find Lord Farringdon looking at them like a hungry predator from the edge of the path. He had been visiting his wife again. John had found her grave one afternoon and placed some flowers. "Congratulations." He said, almost mockingly.
"Thank you." Jemima replied timidly as the Lord stepped closer and looked at her, almost in anticipation, and John didn't like it. Stepping forward John broke the contact, putting an arm around Jemima's shivering waist.
"Indeed, thank you, and now we must be going." John stated firmly, his instincts screaming at him to get away.
"Of course you must…I will be seeing you again soon my dear." He added to Jemima, tipping his hat neatly before turning and walking away, leaving Jemima stunned and John wary.
Almost a year later, and Lord Farrington was almost a distant memory as John sat waiting in the hospital corridor. It had been hours. Surely it shouldn't take this long? John thought, his father accusing him of wearing a hole in the floor as he continued going back and forth.
"Father Brown?" A woman called, John stopping and turning expectantly as a kind young woman ushered him into the room, quietly surprised at how young he looked. Luckily Jemima was slightly older, and had already turned sixteen, and John wasn't that far behind himself. Inside, Jemima was lying in the bed with a small wriggling bundle.
"Jemima! How was the surgery?" John asked anxiously, the girl smiling as she almost laughed, though John didn't understand what was so funny about her being cut open.
"I'm holding our new born son and all you can ask about is the surgery?" She asked, John blushing slightly as he looked down at the quiet baby, who stared up at him with bright blue eyes that matched his own. "I was hoping he would have your eyes…" Jemima said quietly as she rocked the baby, who reached up towards John with a gurgle.
"You know who I am?" John muttered in surprised as he let the baby take one of his fingers and squeeze it gently. Jemima chuckled beside him as she looked at the child adoringly.
"Of course he does! James is very clever, aren't you?" She cooed, John raising an eyebrow at the name choice. "After your grandfather." She said in explanation, John smiling gently in response as he wrapped his arms around both mother and child.
"Thank you." He replied quietly as he joined Jemima as she watched their child slowly fall asleep.
John sighed tiredly as he reached his front door, looking forward to seeing Jemima again. He had been busy at the church all day, and hadn't been able to get away before dark. Opening the door he could hear James crying upstairs, frowning slightly as he closed the door. James was usually such a quiet baby.
"Jemima? I'm home!" He called as he hung his cassock on the coat peg and headed upstairs, calling again when she didn't answer. It was when he opened the door to James' room that he saw her. "Jemima!" He cried as he hurried to her side, turning her over where she lay on the floor. She wasn't moving, and there was blood on her throat. But what on Earth happened?
"Welcome home Father Brown." An eerily familiar voice greeted, John gasping as he turned to see Lord Farringdon sitting in the easy chair near the cot. He looked dapper as ever in his fine black frock coat, his silver locks resting over one shoulder as he regarded John in cold amusement.
"What have you done?" John demanded, feeling hot fury burning its way up his chest to his throat. The Lord looked calm as ever as he uncrossed his legs and got to his feet. He shoved John across the room with just the touch of his hand, the vicar's back slamming painfully into the wall below the window.
"I've taken your wife, and made her mine…She is much prettier than your mother you know…" He said, without a hint of mockery as he leaned down to caress Jemima's cheek, her body slowly stirring at his touch. John didn't remember how he ended up with his hands around Lord Farringdon's throat, but he did remember how painful it was when he was hurled across the room, hitting his head on the glass window. He could feel the trickling warmth of his blood as it ran down his neck, a small round crack left in the window from the impact.
"Don't blame me for this. This is your father's fault…He never warned you, did he? About the oath I made? It happened five generations ago! When Hugh Brown killed my wife I swore vengeance! His family will suffer a thousand fold for what he did! We did nothing to him! He hunted us purely for what we are! So I will take the wife of every man! His daughters shall be mine for all time! And he will suffer!" Lord Farringdon recited, John glancing across at the crib, where James still cried loudly. "Oh no, I shan't touch him. He shall suffer as you have suffered once he takes his own wife and has his own children." The vampire added, revealing his fangs in a grin as John pulled himself to his feet. His head swam as he stood upright, dizzy from the fight.
"I won't let you." John stated in a daze, pulling the crucifix from his neck and rushing the vampire, who hissed as the crucifix was thrust towards him. Jemima got to her feet and gripped John's shoulder painfully, drawing back as he placed the crucifix against her almost clawed hand. "I will hunt you, no matter how long it takes!" John swore as Farringdon took Jemima and left through the window, the shattering glass making James' cries even louder than they had been before.
