“She’s waiting for us,” I said. “What do we do?”
“There’s no place to hide, we need to confront her.” Father Angelo answered. “If we don’t get Jeff somewhere warm he’ll die.”
Father Angelo was right. Jeff visibly shook with cold, he was barely conscious. We walked cautiously upstairs to my second floor apartment, putting Jeff between us so we could both protect him if we needed to. He was too weak to defend himself. This was my fault, I’d pushed him into the icy lake. I’d almost killed him. The door to my apartment stood open. We entered cautiously and were barely inside when the door slammed shut. We stood still, waiting for what came next, but although the air was filled with weird electricity, the room was silent.
Father Angelo broke the silence. “I’m going to run a hot bath, it’s the only thing that will warm him up. Do you have Brandy? I need him warmed on the inside too.”
I heard the water splashing into the bathtub and wished I were the one in the warm water, but Jeff needed it more than me.
My hands shook so badly so I could barely hold the bottle. I put it to my mouth and swallowed, Jeff wasn’t the only one that needed warming from the inside. Steam billowed through the partially open bathroom door, I tapped on it gently.
“Come in my dear, there’s nothing to see.” Father Angelo said.
Jeff was submerged up to his neck in a deep hot bubble bath. He’d stopped shaking and had some color in his cheeks. He managed a weak smile. “That’s the last time I let a pretty lady seduce me,” he said
I blushed and handed him the Brandy. “Not sure I was doing the seducing.” I said. “I’m sorry.” As I fought back my tears the Father put his arms around me and gave me a hug. “Come on, stay strong, there’s no time for tears. Why don’t you go and pour a large glass of Brandy for us too. I think we need one.”
“Don’t we need to keep clear heads to fight this evil bitch that flaunts herself as an Angel?” I said.
“We do, but one glass of Brandy won’t hurt.”
When I walked back into the kitchen the room felt different, calmer. Breathing a sigh of relief, I picked poured the drinks. A voice behind me said. “I’d like one of those myself, but I don’t think it would do me much good.”
I froze for a moment. It was a voice I knew well.
“Lucy, it’s alright, I’m here to help. Don’t be scared. Come sit by me.”
I walked over to the sofa (was this a dream) and sat down next to my dead father.
“Dad, am I dead? If I am, it’s OK as long as you are here to take care of me.”
“Oh Lucy, you’re not dead, but I can’t rest until I know you’re safe.”
His voice changed to a strange whisper as he spoke to me. It sounded like a phone that was losing it’s signal.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever be safe again Dad. It’s a mess. I think she caused you to die.”
“No, smoking killed me, I’m ashamed of it, but it’s true. Now I’m here to make amends and help you one last time.”
The room grew cold again, my dad faded. “Don’t go!”
“I’m not, I’ll be here trust me.”
I heard the flapping of wings and a shadow appeared in the corner. It was motionless, watching, waiting. Would this ever be over?
My current novel Dead of July, is available on Amazon and Smashwords. If you purchase from Smashwords, use the code above NA44P and get your copy for $1.99 before December 22nd.