He prayed silently as he had for the young man who died. However much he disapproved of Inara's profession, she had been a good and kind woman he enjoyed speaking with. Her death was still sinking in and no amount of praying seemed to make it any easier to accept. Who could have done it? Everyone adored her…
As a Shepherd he couldn't approve, of course, but it didn't make her less of a good person if her job was ignored. He sighed and stared at the ceiling in his small room. Perhaps it was time to slip away from this crew. As much as he enjoyed the company, more than any others he had come across, they were not the most moral of folks and not inclined to change their ways. He'd been part of some unpleasant situations already and did not relish the thought of being involved in more. 'Saving' these people was impossible and with this sort of thing going on… one of them must have lost their mind but he couldn't begin to guess who. That was the unnerving part. He was too close to the problem and it was blinding him. How far had he fallen already? He had become a Shepherd for good reason and he felt himself sliding away… back to the person he had been…
He shook his head and sighed. After seeing the fate of that poor boy he had barely been able to sleep but now exhaustion was catching up with him.
Book knelt in prayer in a church he didn't recognize. It didn't matter. He recited the familiar words and enjoyed the peace they brought. He knew he was troubled but the details were fuzzy - something unpleasant had happened and rather than try to remember what it was, he simply pushed it away as he did most of the unpleasantness of his past and gave himself over to the prayer.
He had said every prayer he knew three times before he heard someone drop into the pew beside him. The man began speaking softly, his tone mocking.
"Our father who art in hell
Terror be thy name.
I'll kill this guy,
Rip out his eye
And laugh as he begs for mercy."
Book turned to the one who said such horrible things and froze. The man was covered in the twisted scars common to burn victims but that could be overlooked - the malevolent smirk, the hatred in his eyes… that could not be ignored.
"What do you think, preacher man?" He said with a wide grin as he raised his gloved and bladed hand, resting the sharp tips uncomfortably against the shepherd's right shoulder. "Think you can exercise a real demon or you sticking to the weak ones in your head?"
"This… is impossible…" Book said, standing and stumbling away as memories of Jerry and Inara sharpened and filled his mind. "You're the dream Reaver?"
"Oh, I love that." He laughed and stood to saunter closer, taking a step forward for every step the Shepherd took back. "Dream Reaver! Sounds much better than most of the things I've been called. Usually 'evil bastard' or 'sadistic son of a bitch'. Doesn't change the fact that I'm going to kill you and there is nothing your God can do to stop me."
"There is no such thing as an unstoppable evil."
"Only because you never met me." He smirked and lashed out, the blades attached the glove lengthened to penetrate his left arm just below the shoulder.
Book woke with a scream and looked at his still hurting arm. Blood was already beginning to pool on the bed and seemed to be flowing too fast. He quickly wrapped it with a shirt and headed for the infirmary where he could only hope to find Simon.