Night Prayers (27 page)

"Lord… this
was
a good woman," he said as he kneeled just out of range of the jerking legs and raised his hands to the ceiling. "Welcome her back into the fold once she has passed beyond the sin that was forced upon her. She has sinned mightily, Lord, but it
was forced
upon her. She was a victim, Lord and if You can Forgive the meanest of backsliders then I
know
You'll Forgive her. Bless her, Lord."

The shriek sat Mica down on his rear. Hard. Human or animal he had never heard a sound like that before. Mrs. B's body was putting up one
hell
of a fight.

Literally.

"I'm not going to let them win, Mrs. B," he shouted at the contorting corpse. "I'll fucking
bless
the sin right out of you!"

The old woman's face was a parody of what it had once been — the deep set brown eyes bulged from their bruised sockets while dark, smoking mucus boiled out of the gaping mouth. The Holy Mother's wooden feet were doing a silent tap-dance deep in the heaving chest.

Lord, she doesn't deserve this!

"LORD! Bless this woman and Prepare a place for her at Your table. She was wronged, Lord… Take her back. Bless her."

The screaming rose to a frenzied level as Mica leaned over and cupped his hands over the protruding statue.

"Get ready, Lord," he said softly, silently offering his own blessings, " 'cause here she comes. In Your name and in Your Son's name and in the Holy Spirit's name."

The scream cut off in mid-shriek — almost as if Mica had hit the old woman's
On-Off
button when he rammed the statue in the rest of the way.

Silence… blessed and sanctified… throbbed against the inside of his ears.

"Amen."

Standing, and feeling every ache, bruise and scrape from the encounter, Mica stepped over the old woman and walked to the window. The sunlight was so bright it hurt his eyes. It was a beautiful morning… a
Mrs. B
kind of morning that once meant hotcakes and sausage at
McDonald's.

Mica turned and smiled down at the still, frail form spread-eagled on the floor. It was still a Mrs. B morning… but now she would be having nectar and manna with the Most Almighty.

"Eat hearty," he told her.

The old woman's face was back to normal — smooth except for the wrinkles, and peaceful. The hideous Evil that masked it a moment earlier was gone now.

She'd been Blessed and Welcomed Back.

"Thank you, Lord. You judged her and brought her home to the Glory Everlasting."

Mica hugged himself and shivered. The house suddenly seemed too quiet. Too empty.

Too
dead
.

"I have seen Your wonder and am blessed with the Miracle that has just occurred. Thank you, Lord for allowing me to… to…"

Mica raced down the hallway back into the kitchen and made it just in time to watch his stomach try to squeeze itself out of his mouth.

He wasn't worried though. Miracles often had that effect on mere mortals.

Just like Alien Encounters.

"Praise God."

Allison's forehead slammed into the thin satin draped lining as she came "awake".
Shit, damn low ceiling
. She was going to order the optional dome lid first thing in the morning. First thing.

It was morning.

Allison lay back against the styrofoam pillow and chewed her bottom lip. Somehow she knew there were forty-six tufts radiating out from the satin covered button above her left eye and forty-seven over her left; forty-two at her forehead and a measly twenty-two at her chin.

Which made a grand total of one-hundred and fifty seven…

That
she could remember. That and the way she and Luci had taken the two men in the deserted courtyard
— taken them and drained them and stuffed them into the dumpster behind a restaurant.

Allison remembered Luci licking the blood off her fingers and winking — calling them "Blood Sisters."

But she couldn't remember what had sent shock waves racing through her system.

pain

Allison pressed her hands against the hollow between her breasts. And flinched. The whole front of her chest felt as tender as if someone had…

… had…

Allison squeezed her eyes shut and tried to slip back into the nice, quiet, dreamless trance she just left.

escape

Her mother always said if you couldn't see the monsters under the bed they couldn't hurt you.
But I'm the monster now, mama — does that mean I don't exist
?

You fuckin' WON'T if you don't shut the fuck up!

Gina's lilting voice pried Allison's eyes back open. The pain was still there
— a dull, aching throb that seemed to go to the very core of her being.

Luci?

Shit, bitch! I thought I tol' you
—

I'm here, Alley-cat.

Allison spread her fingers out over the pain, felt the narrow limits… like someone had jabbed her right over the heart. A chill she shouldn't have even noticed raced up her spine.

Something's wrong, Luci.

Oh, like she just now figured that out. I'm tellin' you
—

Gina, quiet
! Then softer,
It'll be okay, Alley-cat. I'll explain later. Rest now
.

But Luci…

Bitch don't even know how't'listen.

Later, Alley-cat. Go back to sleep. You're safe. Listen… the Watcher's on the prowl.

Allison cocked her head to one side and heard the slow, muffled sound of boot heels circling the coffins. And something told her he'd be doing that until nightfall.

When they could get up and take care of themselves.

But the pain in my chest.

Matches the pain in mass you're givin' ME
! Dear sweet Gina.

Later
. Luci said.
Now go back to sleep… we're going to have a busy night
.

Allison wanted to press the issue until she got some real answers, but let it drop. Cupping her hands gently over the tender flesh, she began recounting the tufts.

Still one hundred and fifty-seven

"…beers on the wall, one hundred and fifty-seven. If one of those bottles should happen to fall, one hundred and fifty-six beers on the wall. One hundred and fifty-six beers on the…"

Alley-cat! It's the middle of the morning!

Will you shut the fuck up?

Oy so now we got a nightingale as well as a hyena?

The not-so-gentle tapping on the coffin lid ended the impromptu concert.

"Best do like Luci says, Alley-cat," Gypsy's low voice boomed down at her through the satin and wood.

"But I'm not sleepy," she answered and heard the man chuckle.

"Excuse me for saying so, Alley-cat… but you're dead. Maybe it'd be easier if you just started acting like it. Luci'll explain everything later. Okay?"

Allison refolded her hands in the proper "good little corpse" style and closed her eyes.

It was going to be a
long
day.

Mica squinted up at the sun — already a couple clicks past its zenith — and felt a cold sweat replace the natural perspiration covering his back.

The day was already half over and the police still just stood around picking their God damned asses.

"Sorry, Lord," Mica mumbled, letting the handcuffs jiggle between his legs, "that just sort of slipped out. I didn't mean any disrespect."

The officer standing next to the patrol car bent at the waist and scowled at Mica over the rims of his mirrored sun-glasses.
Just like the ones Allison and Luci had been wearing
.

In the daylight.

An unnatural cold, like the sweat, suddenly replaced the humid air locked in the back seat with him. Even if Luci and Allison were Vampires (which he knew they were) and even if they had been out in broad daylight (which made him re-evaluate his comics-gleaned knowledge of the creatures) and wore mirrored sunglasses…

… there was still no reason to assume the policeman glaring in at him that very moment was anything but a human being.

No reason at all.

"Did you say something?"

Mica lifted his cuffed hands and laced his fingers together. "Just praying, sir. No law against that yet, is there?" He'd meant it to sound like a joke, but it didn't come out that way. Mica squirmed around on the plastic coated seat and faced the window.

"Would you like to join me?" he asked. "Offer up a prayer of Thanks that the Good Lord has taken Mrs. B back to His bosom."

"Mrs?" The scowl deepened on the officer's face. "You mean that poor old lady you killed?"

"No, you don't understand. Let me explain."

Mica scooted to the window and saw the man back up quickly, his hand dropping to the gun at his waist. Mica eased back against the seat slowly, fingers up and spread. Which, he discovered a moment later, was probably not one of the wisest thing he'd done that morning.

That
… and dialing
9-1-1
to report Mrs. B's miraculous departure back into the Arms of the Lord.

And then
waiting
for them so he could explain.

The officer pulled off his glasses and stared directly at the dried, rust-colored blood on Mica's hands.

"You don't need to explain anything to me," the officer said as he moved back to his position next to the car, "but I'd love to be there when you explain it to the judge. God damned bastard… I hope they gas your ass."

"No, please, it wasn't like that." Mica licked his lips and gagged at the taste he found there,
blood
"Wait,
please
, I didn't kill her… I released her soul from the evil bonds that would have confined it to everlasting torment."

Taking a deep breath, Mica closed his eyes and mentally chose a passage at random.
Make it a good one, Lord
.

"And Jesus told His Disciples… 'Do not think that I have come to abolish the law and the prophets. I have come not to abolish them, but to fulfill them.'"
Perfect, Lord. As usual
.

Mica opened his eyes and watched the man's face drop into a look that would normally have been reserved for the discovery of dog-shit on a shoe.