AN: Quite a short chapter but there will be a longer one soon, I promise!
Cheryl's eyes struggled open. She managed to sit up, but her head was still spinning after the dream. It had felt more like she'd gone back in time to revisit those moments of her past that she had forgotten all about before. Now she remembered them vividly once again, but she didn't want to. She just wanted to forget. She didn't want to be Alessa, she just wanted to be Cheryl, she just wanted to be herself.
It took Cheryl a moment to realise that there was no sunlight coming in through the window. Stiffling a yawn, she got out of bed and, after throwing on her robe, walked over to the window and took a look outside. Yeah, it was going to be a dull day, all right. There were already a dozen black clouds in the sky, and there was a hell of a lot of fog outside. Cheryl glanced over at the alarm clock by the bed and saw that it was just after seven. Well, there was no point in going back to sleep.
She decided that she would take a shower first before going for breakfast. Not that she was very hungry anyway, but Cheryl saw no point in starving herself. As she stepped into the shower, shuddering as the hot, almost scolding water came splashing down onto her body. She rubbed her face with her hands, wondering what she was going to do next. She knew that she was here for a reason, but what reason? And why was all of this happening now, anyway? If this had something to do with the cult, then why had they waited this long to track her down? It had been four years, after all.
Once she was done, a shivering Cheryl stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel. After dressing quickly she left the room and walked out into the hall, shutting the door behind her and locking it. She turned and started down the hall. A young woman with long, black hair was scrubbing the wall, which was covered in red graffiti. As Cheryl passed by, the woman turned her head and her eyes widened.
"Careful, the floor's wet," she warned Cheryl, who stopped abruptly and nodded. "Some guy slipper earlier, even when I warned him.. so, I was just making sure."
"Oh, right," Cheryl said, "Well, thanks."
She started to walk away when the woman spoke up again. "Some people, huh?" she said, gesturing to the graffiti on the wall. "I've only been doing this job for three weeks and I've already spent most of my time cleaning this stuff off."
Cheryl wasn't sure how to reply to this but she did her best. "Yeah, stupid kids," she mumbled, shifting from one foot to the other.
"You're telling me," the woman said in agreement as she continued to scrub at the wall, "I've not seen you around here before. D'you live here or are you just visiting someone?"
"Neither," Cheryl answered casually, "I'm just staying here for a couple of days."
The woman stopped scrubbing and turned to look at her. "Oh, really? So what are you doing in Ashfield? Most people steer clear of this place nowadays, ever since.. well, you know.."
Cheryl wasn't sure why this woman was asking her so many questions but she did her best to answer them anyway. "Oh, you know, just needed to get away for a while."
The woman nodded slowly, "Ah, right. Boyfriend troubles?"
Cheryl was slightly startled by this. "Well, not exactly.." she started uneasily, but the other woman just laughed heartily.
"Don't worry, I know how you feel," she said, rolling her eyes, "Sometimes I don't know why I even bother. Still, these things always work themselves out in the end."
Cheryl considered this but didn't reply. "I'd better get going," she said politely, and gave the woman a smile before walking off down the hall. The other woman didn't respond, however, and Cheryl turned around to say something else, but to her surprise the woman was gone. Plus, both the bucket and mop that had been sitting by the woman's feet before had vanished. Even the graffiti on the wall was nowhere to be seen.
Cheryl shook her head impatiently and carried on down the hall. She wasn't getting enough sleep, that was all. These dreams were messing up her sleep pattern.
Well, there was nothing she could do about that for now.
000
The large double doors swung open and two men entered the Church. One of them was small, fat and bald. The other was tall and slim with long, dark hair. Both were clad in dark, red robes. Morris watched from the altar as they walked up the aisle and then came to a halt before him.
"Do you have him?" Morris asked, scrutinizing the two men, though they were both wearing broad grins which told him that they had succeeded.
The taller man nodded, "Yes. Damon has him outside."
"Bring him in," Morris commanded, and both men left the Church, then returned minutes later with Damon. All three of the men were having to carry the prisoner, who was struggling hard against them. Both his hands and feet were bound and he had been gagged. Morris watched them as they approached, a smile playing on his lips. They had done exactly as he had asked. That was good.
"Here he is, sir," Damon said, sounding out of breath.
"Did you have any problems?" Morris inquired, glaring down at the prisoner, who had been forced onto his knees by Gareth, the smaller man.
Damon shook his head. "Nothing we couldn't handle. What would you like us to do with him now?"
Morris considered this. "Just take him through there," he ordered, jerking a thumb at the door to his right, "When Father Rowan arrives, I'll let you know."
The three men pulled the prisoner up to his feet, and were about to lead him over to the door, when the prisoner suddenly started trying to resist them. He began shrieking loudly and tried to shake them off.
Morris sighed impatiently, "Damon, deal with him please."
Damon nodded obideniently and hit the prisoner hard over the back of his head. Morris watched as the prisoner's cries subsided and he crumpled to the floor.
"If he tries anything else, you know what to do," Morris said, as the three men hoisted the unconscious prisoner up and carried him away. Then they were gone, and Morris was alone once again. He tapped his fingers impatiently against the alter. Father Rowan was hardly a punctual sort, but Morris had hoped that he would be on time today. He knew that Rowan was eager to see the prisoner.
Morris' prayers were answered when moments later the doors swung open again and in stepped Father Rowan. "Morris," the smaller man started wheezily, "I'm sorry I'm late. Did they-?"
"Yes," Morris interrupted loudly, "I'll go and tell them to bring him out."
Moments later, Damon, Gareth and Phillip were dragging the prisoner out. They set him down before Rowan, who studied the heap on the floor before frowning. "Good work. But why don't you have the girl yet?"
"We searched everywhere for her," Damon explained, seeming to cower before Rowan, "We think she already left Portland. Maybe she knew we were coming."
Rowan scowled, "How could she possibly know you were coming? Something's wrong here."
"I assure you, Father Rowan, we will find Alessa," Morris softly assured him, going to put a hand on his master's shoulder, but Rowan angrily shook him off and glowered at the other man.
"Don't you dare say that heretic's name in my presence," he spat angrily, turning to the other men. "You had better find her soon. I want her to pay for what she's done to us."
Damon nodded and he and the others quietly left the church. Rowan stared down Morris suspiciously and started to pace around. "So, Morris, you were the one who spoke with her. Do you have any idea of where she was going?"
"No, I'm sorry," Morris apologized, "but I will do everything I can.."
"Not good enough," Rowan snapped, "Honestly Morris, what's happened to you? You said you knew where the girl was, you said you talked to her. Sometimes I wonder whether your heart is truly in this, or.."
"I'll find her," Morris flared up, "Don't question my loyalties, Rowan."
"Is that any way to talk to your master?" Rowan said, and laughed cruelly, "We want this girl to suffer, and I'm sure you do, too. So why don't you go back out there and find the little witch."
It was taking all of Morris' self control to prevent himself from striking the other man. Rowan was his master, that was true, but that didn't mean that Morris liked him. He respected him, of course, respected his choices and decisions, but something about Rowan had always chilled Morris to the bone. However, he wasn't going to dwell on any of that. He had work to do; he had to find the girl, and fast. He knew very well that Rowan was not a patient man.