Downfall by S.D. Wasley
****
Everybody else was already there when I arrived at Gaunt House that night. Something had changed. The room buzzed with suppressed relief, like a cleansing breeze had swept down one of the ventilation pipes and sucked away all last night’s terror. I didn’t trust myself to look at Cain. Instead I checked on Jude.
Oh.
Jude sat quietly while Liz inspected the back of his head but his face was glowing. I drew in a sharp breath, stifling a cry of fear. He’d transformed, just like Cain and Owen. He looked peaceful. Serene and achingly beautiful. Peaceful, Jude? Serene? My God, you have been implicated in a man’s death. There were still a couple of purple bruises on his cheek and jaw, although much faded, but he could sit upright, apparently without pain. I edged around the back of Jude to get a look at his head. A pink, healing scar was visible where last night had been a bloody mess of matted hair and lacerated scalp. I went into the cooler room to escape their eyes, rattling around in the ice and soft drinks, trying to make out I was simply getting myself a can. If there had been any way I could escape without drawing attention to myself, I would have been out of there. But I couldn’t make myself a drama queen and ruin Jude’s moment.
When I came out again Nadine looked superior, as though she were rather enjoying my distress. Liz looked more like Uncle Max when he watched Albion graduate high school: proud, and quietly relieved. Why couldn’t I take it with all that excited joy the others showed? Did I really have to be like those poor, everyday folk in the Bible, always afraid of awesome sights and miracles? I wanted to be one of the seasoned faithful and expect the miracles. This was wonderful stuff I was witnessing and yet Jude’s new face simply terrified me. When I looked at Cain I thought for a moment I’d been granted my wish. I didn’t feel the same fear as when I looked at Owen and Jude. I gazed at Cain, the saint. Yeah, okay, I was affected but no, I wasn’t afraid.
But then I realized what it was. There was something in the curve of Cain’s lips, the contour of his jaw and the messy, black-brown of his hair. Something that sank my heart. I wasn’t religiously enraptured by Cain the ethereal being. I was devoured with passion for Cain the man. Afraid of two of these holy creatures ... and filled with lust for the other. Guilt seared through me just as Cain shot me a warm smile.
I squared my shoulders. I’d caused enough damage here already. Surely I could lift my game, make the act more authentic, at least for tonight. I only needed to get through one more evening. Resolute, I turned to Jude and leaned down to kiss his cheek in a congratulatory manner. He smiled at me without a trace of his old complicated feelings. Small consolation.
“It’s going to be okay,” he said.
In that instant, I believed him. Another instant and my conscience threw me back down to earth, snarling at me to get a grip. I tried to keep my face impassive, cracking open my drink as this internal struggle played out.
It was a quiet night. Liz and Nadine murmured about the visions they’d seen that day. Nadine mentioned a vision of the farmer, describing his stubbled cheeks and the gun resting beside him on a mossy limestone rock. Liz wondered aloud why none of them had seen fragments of visions relating to the night before, not until Owen had his complete vision. I wanted to stay silent but my mouth did that thing where it just started talking of its own accord.
“Nadine and you both saw relevant fragments.”
“When?” Nadine demanded.
“Remember the blue beer bottle label, and the pub sign, and the big woman walking through a hospital …”
They were impressed―Nadine begrudgingly so―and spent some time putting the puzzle together. Cain alone noticed my subsequent silence. When it grew late enough I yawned. I needed to go home, I said. A lot of homework. I thought I did a pretty good job of faking it and made it all the way to my car before I realized I was being followed. Cain said nothing when he caught up to me, but took hold of me and left kisses on my face and neck. I looked up at the electrical tower sparking silvery-red into the dimming sky over his shoulder.
“Don’t you want this anymore?” he murmured against my cheek.
I gave him a fierce kiss in answer but repeated my homework excuse. Halfway home I stopped to send Cain’s phone a message: I can’t come back. Then I sat in the pink car in the dark, following the carrier’s robotic voice instructions on how to block a number. I disabled my social profiles, and switched off my voice mail service.
However, it was only after I was well away from Gaunt House ruins that I let myself understand that kiss had been our last.