Fear to Tread Read online

  She heard a door slam and heavy footsteps behind her. “I’m so sorry, dear,” the black-bearded priest said, coming through the small door near the altar, his voice echoing in the empty church. “I was a bit brusque, I think.”

  “It’s okay,” she said as he came up the aisle like a raven swooping toward her. “I was looking for Father Thomas. We had an appointment for ten.”

  “I’m afraid he won’t be making it.” His cassock was obviously very old. The seams were rusty-looking with wear, and the buttons were threadbare. As he reached her, she could smell a faint stench of mold and decay coming from the fabric. “Father Tom was taken ill this morning.”

  “Is he all right?”

  “I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Something about the shape of his mouth was familiar, but she couldn’t place him. She was pretty certain she had never met an Irish priest before. “His heart is giving him a bit of a bother, but we got him to hospital very quickly.”

  “His heart?” she said, finally hearing what he was saying. “I’m so sorry.” Father Tom had always seemed to be the picture of health, coaching sports, very active. “That’s terrible.” The thought of him lying in a hospital made her shudder. “I’ll just go.” She made herself look him in the eye and try to sound pleasant. Just because you’re a freaking lunatic is no reason to be rude, Laura, she scolded herself inside her head. “Thank you for telling me.”

  “Wait, dear.” He put a hand on her arm, and she flinched. His hand was bony, very white and very cold. “Did you need to talk to someone? I’ll be happy to help if I can.” Looking into his face, she could see that the beard was hiding a scar. She could just see the end of it curled up his cheek like a half-hidden snake.

  “No,” she said. “I’m fine.” She tried to pull away, and his grip tightened.

  “Are you certain?” The half-mad light she had seen in his eyes for a moment in the office had returned. “It’s my experience that beautiful women rarely seek out a priest for no reason.”

  “I didn’t seek him out.” Suddenly she was desperate to get away from him; her heart was pounding. “Like I said, we had an appointment.”

  “Was there something you needed to confess?” His tone was perfectly benign, mild and sympathetic, but all she could see were his burning eyes. She looked away toward the back of the church and the hope of freedom and saw a figure coming towards them, a dark shadow against the light from the doorway.

  “Laura?” Caleb stepped into the light streaming through the stained glass windows. “Is that you?”

  “Caleb, hi.” She pulled away from the priest, and this time, he didn’t try to stop her. “What are you doing here?” I don’t care, she thought, going to him, forcing herself not to run. She had barely met him, but it was all she could do to not fling herself into his arms.

  “I stopped in to light a candle,” he said.

  “Really?” the dark priest said from behind her, a mocking edge coming into his tone. “For whom?”

  “That’s private,” Caleb said with a frown. “Father.”

  “Of course,” the priest said. “Now that your friend is here, miss, I’ll leave you.” He nodded to Laura and smirked slightly at Caleb, then he left them, going back through the door the way he’d come.

  “Are you all right?” Caleb said. “I’ve been thinking about you since last night, worrying, I guess.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine now.” She smiled. “That priest…I had just gotten a shock, then he was being so pushy, it kind of freaked me out.” She laughed. “Totally silly, I know.”

  “I don’t think so.” He smiled, too, but he looked tired, like he hadn’t slept. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his chin was shadowed with a day’s growth of beard. “He seemed kind of creepy to me, too.”

  “I know, right?” She giggled, giddy with a weird relief. “Thank God you showed up.”

  He took her hand and squeezed it. “Thank God.”

  “Would you mind if we got out of here?” The church that had seemed so pretty before now seemed dark and musty as a tomb. “Oh wait, you came to light a candle.”

  “It’s okay,” he said. “I was lighting it for you.”

  They emerged on the bright, crowded street, a different world. “Is there someplace you need to be?” he asked. “Do you want to get a cup of coffee or some brunch or something?”

  “I’d love that.” What the hell am I doing? she thought.

  His phone rang. For a moment, he looked confused, like he didn’t recognize the sound. Then he pulled it out of his pocket. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” she said. “Go ahead.” Jake was barely cold; how could she be thinking about going out for coffee with this other man? She watched him talk on his phone, barely registering what he said. He was gorgeous, but the attraction she felt for him didn’t feel sexual. Being with him comforted her; it made her feel less like the whole world was lost.

  He ended his call. “Laura, I’m so sorry,” he said. “That was a friend—someone from work. I have to go.”

  “It’s okay,” she said again, disappointed and relieved at the same time.

  “Do you need me to walk you home first?” he said. “I know you were upset before.”

  “No, I’m fine,” she said. “I’ll take the subway.” She held out her hand. “Thanks for rescuing me.”

  He took it. “Any time.” She noticed again how his eyes looked haunted. “Are you sure I can’t at least get you a cab?”

  “Don’t be silly.” Just his concern made her feel safe, which was utterly ridiculous. “I’ll be fine. Good luck with the work thing.”

  “Thanks.” He kissed her forehead the way he had the night before, weird and lovely. “I hope we run into one another again soon.”

  She gave him a shy hug. “So do I.” Smiling naturally for what seemed like the first time in forever, she waved and turned away, headed for the train.

  Chapter Eleven—Praying for Help

  Caleb had been summoned back to his apartment by the mobile phone that had magically appeared in his pocket the same way it always did when he had need of it. In the old days, a putti or other lesser angel would have come to fetch him, but the new human technology made things easier. Was Michael watching over him, sending other angels to intervene if he and Laura got too close? Other angels called on him for help every once in a great while, but it was hardly a common occurrence.

  When he walked in, he found four angels gathered around one of the long couches, two cherubim in the white robes of their heavenly office and two seraphim like himself, bloodied and dirty from battle. “Here he is,” one of the cherubs said, a willowy blonde female. “The Evening Star has come.”

  He drew closer and saw another seraph he knew, Malachi, lying on the couch, pale and covered with blood. “What happened?”

  “A half-demon,” the cherub said. He recognized her, too—Serena. She had been a guardian of the throne of heaven as long as he had been a guardian on earth. In the great family of angels, she was his sister. “Malachi tried to destroy him.”

  “I have to go back,” Malachi said. “I have to save her…” He broke off, his face twisting as he gasped in pain.

  “Hush now,” Serena said, kneeling beside him. She pulled back the blanket covering his chest, and the other cherub let out a tiny shriek. His chest had been ripped open and his heart pulled to the outside in a gruesome parody of an icon of a bleeding-hearted saint. The gash had been burned back together in a demon’s parody of healing. The flesh and bone would have to be reopened and the heart put back inside—an agonizing, dangerous procedure, even for an angel.

  “I can heal him,” Caleb said.

  “No,” Malachi said through gritted teeth. “Serena can heal me.” His face was slick with sweat. “You have to go after the monster.” He grabbed Caleb’s wrist. “You have to save the child.”

  “The creature has control of a village,” explained one of the other seraphim. “A child there prayed for an angel to save them.” He looked he
artbroken. “A child of perfect faith.”

  “But I failed,” Malachi said. “Now the monster knows I was summoned and means to punish the mortal who did it.”

  “The girl’s faith has never wavered,” Serena said. She had the clean robes and pure silver eyes of one who rarely left the plains of Heaven. “Her soul will pass on to the Light. Martyrs are hardly uncommon. Perhaps her death will bring others to the Light.”

  “Enough,” Caleb said, silencing her with a glare. A week ago, he might have said the same. Now he thought she sounded cold and cruel.

  “He won’t kill her,” Malachi said, his grip tightening on Caleb’s wrist. “He’ll hurt her.”

  “He won’t,” Caleb promised. “Who will show me where?”

  “I will,” the second seraph said, and his companion nodded his agreement.

  Caleb clasped hands with each of them in turn. “Thank you.” He turned to Serena. “Heal him. We’ll be right back.”

  “Caleb, wait,” Serena said. “Malachi doesn’t know what he’s asking of you. He doesn’t know the danger you’re in now.” Michael apparently hadn’t sent them, but it was obvious his visit to the seraphim encampment was already old news. “This monster he speaks of is half-human with at least half a human soul. In spite of all his evil, he is protected. If you lose your temper and destroy him on the human plane, you will fall.”

  “You would rather this child be abandoned?” he asked. “One more martyr?

  She blushed. “Go then. Just be careful.”

  Laura rubbed the last of the oil from the soft bristles of her varnishing brush and put it in the jar by the sink. Four of Jake’s paintings were now laid flat on sawhorses to dry. Like coffins, she thought before she could stop herself.

  She had been at it all afternoon—through the windows she could see the dark. She pulled on a thick cardigan sweater, another hand-me-down from Jake. She buried her face in the crook of her elbow and inhaled the scent—her own perfume and the ghost of Jake’s old cigarettes. Tears stung her eyes, and she wiped them away.

  She picked up the phone and dialed. Patti, her sister-in-law, answered on the second ring. “Hello?”

  “Hey, baby sis,” she said, keeping her tone light. “You were right on top of that.” She slumped back against the edge of the battered desk. “You expecting a call? Got a hot date?”

  “Not tonight,” Patti said, a smile in her voice. “I have a test in the morning, a make-up for—for one of the ones I missed.” Jake’s mother and sister had flown north and spent his last four days at the hospital with him and Laura. It had been the first they had known he was sick. “You sound good.”

  “Yeah…I’ve been varnishing some stuff.” The last time she and Patti had talked, they had both been crying, and she had been drunk on sedatives and bourbon. “I wanted to tell you something.”

  “Please don’t apologize,” Patti said. “Mama was horrible to you, blaming you. We know Jake; we know it had to have been his idea not to tell us, just like he said it was.”

  “Patti—”

  “She was just so upset—”

  “Of course she was—”

  “She feels really bad about it now.” Laura slid down the desk as she listened until she was sitting on the floor, still holding the phone to her ear. “She wants to call you, but she’s scared of making it worse.” She concentrated on breathing without crying, holding her eyes open wide. “Laura? Are you there?”

  “Yeah, I’m here.” To her shock, she sounded fairly normal, maybe just a little congested. “She shouldn’t feel bad. She was right; I should have told y’all what was going on whether Jake wanted me to or not.”

  “I understand why you didn’t,” Patti said. “I think I understand.” Patti was studying elementary education and comparative religion at the University of Georgia. Her two great ambitions were to teach elementary school and marry her fiancé, a medical student. “You should come home for Christmas,” she said now. “You need to be with family, and we’re still your family. Jake wouldn’t want you to be all by yourself.”

  “I’ll think about it.” Christmas was only a few weeks away, she realized. She hadn’t thought about it before. The idea of going south and spending time in Jake’s mother’s house with the white artificial tree and all the teddy bears dressed like Ebenezer Scrooge was like a science fiction movie in her head, too weird to be real. “Patti, remember the other night when we were talking, and you told me I should pray to Jake?”

  “Yes.” In the silence, she could almost see her sister-in-law twisting a lock of blonde hair around her perfectly-manicured finger. “I know you think it’s silly.”

  “No, actually, I don’t.” The floor she was sitting on was cold as ice. The window was still open. “I did it, sort of. I wrote him some letters.” She closed her eyes for a moment and let a single teardrop fall. “I wanted to tell you that it really helped.”

  “Oh.” She sounded surprised and pleased and a little bit tearful herself. “I’m glad.”

  Laura smiled. “Okay…that was all I wanted.” A wave of love for Patti made her heart ache. “I’ll let you go.”

  “Laura, wait.” Another pause. “Did you feel him answer?”

  Her eyes widened in shock, and she had to take a deep breath. “Yeah…yeah, honey, I think I did.” For one crazy moment, she considered telling Patti about the ghost. But when she opened her mouth to do it, she realized she couldn’t.

  “I knew you would.” Patti wasn’t trying to hide her tears. “He loved you so much. I can’t believe he would just leave you.”

  Laura stifled an inappropriate snicker that caught her off guard. “He didn’t have a lot of choice.”

  “I don’t mean his body. I just…I know it’s hard for you to think about this stuff, after what went on with your mama, but…there’s something else, Laura. I know there is. Jake didn’t just stop or just go away. There’s something else, and I think sometimes that wall between gets thin, if we really need it to.” Laura didn’t answer. She could barely breathe. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” Patti said with a nervous laugh.

  “No, I don’t,” Laura promised. “I guess I think you’re right.” She closed her eyes, remembering the ghost, feeling his arms around her. “I love you, little sister,” she said, just the way Jake always had when he and Patti had talked. “You know that, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do.” Patti took a ragged breath. “I love you, too.”

  “Okay. You study.” She suddenly felt restless. “Tell your mama when you talk to her that I’ll call her soon.”

  “Please do,” Patti said. “She’ll love it. And we’ll see you soon, right?”

  Laura smiled. “I’ll see you.”

  She hung up and drew her knees up to her chin, curling into a ball. She had been on her feet all day; she should have been tired. She took a few deep breaths, trying to relax. The wind was blowing through the narrow window opening now, reaching out for her, and she shivered. Her heart was beating fast, she realized; she was afraid. She could hear cars passing on the street below, hear someone crying out, angry, an obscenity. The light from the studio barely touched the dark outside, turning the sleet into tiny flashes as it hit the glass. “I’m scared,” she said aloud. “I don’t know what to do.” She thought about the weird priest that morning and about Caleb, the stranger who had shown up from nowhere just when she needed him most. She shivered again, trembling steadily now. “Help me,” she whispered, a desperate prayer. Her tremors subsided; she could breathe. She got up from the floor and left the studio, turning off the light.

  Across town, Caleb stepped out on the sidewalk with the other two seraphim, turning up his collar against the sleet. But suddenly he could feel Laura; he could see her light go out. He couldn’t make out what she was saying, but he could feel her desperation. “Help her,” he prayed as he prepared to cross over with the others to travel between worlds. “I don’t know what to do.” He looked up at the dark, empty sky and trusted that Someone th
ere heard.

  Chapter Twelve—The Half-Demon

  Caleb and his two companions emerged from the space between worlds inside a tiny, dimly-lit parlor. The smell of an oil furnace was thick in the air, but the room was still cold. The furniture was worn but clean and polished, and every table and chair back was draped with a doily of handmade lace. The walls were hung with framed photographs and holy icons, including a crucifix hung in place of prominence over the bricked-up fireplace. An old woman was sitting near the door to the hall, close beside the furnace. She was weeping and chanting steadily in Russian, a wooden rosary twisted in her gnarled, blue and white hands. She didn’t react when they came in; in their pure angel form, she couldn’t see them.

  “The child isn’t here,” the male seraph, Anthony, said.

  The other seraph, the female, Rachel, went over to the woman and revealed herself slowly before touching her gently on the shoulder. “Peace, Mother,” she said in Russian. “Where is your little one?”

  The woman barely seemed to notice her. “Gone,” she moaned, still rocking in her chair. “All gone…taken…all of them.” More screams and wails of grief could be heard from outside, and the old woman sobbed, pressing the fist that held the rosary to her forehead. “All the little ones….”

  “The creature,” Anthony said. “Come on.”