When Darkness Falls(60)

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Devon awoke in the pew with a dry mouth and cramped muscles. Blinking, he sat and stretched his legs. No light came through the stained glass windows above the choir loft, but on each side of the church electric candles glowed in alcoves, circling statues of saints.

Footsteps echoed in the vestibule, and Devon caught the faint scent of perfume. Haley’s. He stood, ready to lunge, but the memory of him attacking a woman in an alley flooded his mind. Devon froze, surrounded by stained glass and sparks of light, seeing the woman’s body on the pavement, as if she were right in front of him.

He remembered the man and sank to his knees, his hands hitting the cool marble floor.

A nightmare. Just a nightmare. Had to be. But when did I fall asleep?

Devon forced his mind back through the day. He’d talked to Haley on the phone until dawn and then slept. He’d awakened in the late afternoon. From the motel, still lying in bed, he’d called Haley again but hadn’t reached her. Thought about looking for her at the airport, but must have drifted back to sleep and dreamed about going to LAX and Hollywood. And at some point when dreaming, he’d started sleepwalking. Ended here.

It could have happened that way. Devon could have caught a cab from the motel, taken it to whatever part of L.A. he was in now, and wandered until he found this church. Because it was not possible that he’d walked, or run, or traveled whatever way his mind imagined he was traveling in his dreams, all the way to the airport, and all the way back in the other direction to Hollywood. Smelling Haley’s perfume now, mixed with her sweat, was a remnant of the dream. It was happening because he missed her so. In fact, he couldn’t remember why he’d insisted she return home without him. His mind felt clear, finally. Maybe it was the effect of being in a church after all this time.

Devon stood, knees popping. That alone surely proved he was human, not some sort of superbeing like Lydia claimed. If he were, he should not have aches and popping knees. Now he would go out, find a cab or call one, and get back to the motel. And book a flight to Chicago, where he’d be with Haley and forget all this had ever happened.

The clunk of something hitting the floor, then glass shattering, came from the vestibule.

Haley.

Devon started down the aisle. When he reached for the exit door, he saw bloodstains on his hand and arm. He stopped, transfixed.

Cut myself. That’s all.

He dipped his hands in the holy water font and washed away the blood. He inspected his arms and hands from every angle. Perfect skin. No cuts. No scratches.

Whose blood do you think it was, Devon? A voice inside his head, a voice that sounded like Lydia’s, asked. The man’s or the woman’s? Oh, and didn’t the woman remind you a little bit of Haley?

Devon stared down at his hands, hands that were now clean, and knew it had been real. All real. He remembered the taste of her blood in his mouth. The taste of her blood. He stared at his hands, and his wrists, and remembered.





Chapter Thirty


A man sleeping in the corner of the vestibule coughed. It startled Haley. She hadn’t noticed him before, and she nearly tripped stepping down into the vestibule. She grabbed for the railing, and the bag with bottles of holy water hit the marble floor. Glass shattered. Haley glanced toward the man, but none of it had hit him. He slept on.

Crouching, Haley pulled away the dry parts of the bag, not as careful as she should have been about getting cut. Her anxiousness to leave the church had grown throughout her conversation with Cecily. The calm, quiet atmosphere of the gift store in itself had begun to wear on her.

Only one bottle had broken. Haley did her best to shake glass fragments off the others. She put two in her purse and one in the side pocket of her cargo pants with her pepper spray. She kicked what she could of the broken glass under the stairwell, where no one was likely to step on it. She would have liked to do more, but she couldn’t bring herself to stay inside a second longer though shards of glass still clung to the hems of her pants.

Haley shoved through the wooden double doors. Outside, she breathed the smog-tinged air with relief. Her body relaxed, and she looked down as she reached into her purse for the car keys. The blow hit her from the right, knocking her to the sidewalk. Her purse landed a few feet away. She’d fallen on her left shoulder, sending shocks down her arm through the ends of her fingers. Haley ignored the pain and tingling and rolled further onto her side, fumbling in her other pocket with her right hand as she peered into the night.

A woman stood near the church entrance, silhouetted by the faint glow from the outdoor light sconces. Though Haley couldn’t see her face, she knew it was Lydia.

“Devon said you went home.” Lydia lunged toward Haley, teeth gleaming in the darkness.

Haley had a bottle out and open, and she flung it as Lydia reached her. Holy water spurted out of it as it hit Lydia’s breastbone, spattering her face and neck.

Lydia stopped, stumbled backward. “What the f*ck?” She bent over, hands pressed to her chest, her whole body trembling.

Haley pushed herself to her feet, shoulder and arm throbbing, thrilled that Lydia’s delusion about being a vampire extended to a belief that the holy water could harm her. But Lydia stood that same instant, and Haley saw she shook from laughter, not pain.

“Holy water? Seriously, darling, holy water? What has Devon been telling you?”

Backing away, Haley edged closer to where her purse lay on the pavement. She needed the car keys. Lydia advanced, her deliberate movement more frightening than the lunge, for it showed no concern that Haley might elude her.