Jamie McGuire - Requiem

“Ssshhh!” Bex said, covering my screams with his hand.

More tears streamed down my face, and I threw my arms around his neck, sobbing with uncontrolled relief.

He held me at bay, searching my eyes. “Where is everyone else?”

I shook my head. “I don’t…I don’t know,” I choked out.

“The book?”

I held up the duffel bag.

“Okay,” he said, hugging me to him. “Okay, let’s get you out of here.”

He led me to his Ducati that was parked around the corner, and we sped off, fishtailing down the street. As Bex took roads that would lead us to Woonsocket, I fantasized that Jared, Claire, and Ryan would be at St. Anne’s waiting for us.

I replayed what happened over in mind, wondering if I could have done something different, or if I should have tried to help Ryan. Risking his life — and ultimately Claire’s life— to steal a book that would save me was the epitome of selfishness…until I remembered that it would spare Jared as well. Even knowing that, I wasn’t sure I’d made the right choice. Even if I was part of some kind of prophecy, our lives weren’t anymore valuable than Ryan’s or Claire’s.

Father Francis held open the door, waving for us to come inside.

“Are they here?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

The priest closed the door, and then shook his head, sad. “Not yet. You have it?”

“I do. It’s here,” I said, opening the duffel bag. I handed the leather-bound book to Father Francis, and he held it gingerly, as if he were holding a bomb.

He retreated to the front of the cathedral, sitting on the first pew. “The Naissance de Demoniac of Shax the Duke,” he whispered. He completed the sign of the cross, and then prayed over the book.

Bex closed his eyes, and then smiled. “They didn’t like that.”

It was my turn to pace.

Father Francis and Bex poured over the pages, searching for something to present to Jared upon his arrival. But it had been almost an hour, and we were still the only ones that had made it to the church.

Every parishioner that entered the large, wooden door was politely turned away by Father Francis. It was harder for me to be polite, because each time the door opened, my heart stopped.

After my hopes had been dashed for the sixth time, anger took over. An older woman pushed her way through the door, only to be startled by the sight of me charging down the aisle. “Can't you see the sign? The church is closed!”

The woman scrambled to reach the door handle to escape.

“We need a bigger sign,” I said, crossing my arms.

“Patience, child,” Father Francis said, approaching me with a look of understanding. “He will come.”

“When?” I said emphatically. “He should be here by now. I feel like I'm going crazy.”

Father Francis gently guided me back to my pew, patting my shoulder. “Faith is what you need.”

“I used to have faith. It's hard when everyone tells you that your death is inevitable.”

“Death is inevitable for us all,” the priest said.

Bex looked up, his eyes narrowing.

“What?” I asked. “Is it Shax?”

“No,” Bex said, his eyes fluttering. “They've been crowding us since we got here, but they're….,” he opened his eyes, “all gone.”

“But…why?” I said, incredulous. The theme of the night had been that Shax had let us get away with his precious book far too easily. Their retreat only set me on edge, wondering when he would decide to put up a real fight.

Suddenly the door opened, cracking against the wall. Bex stood up, pulling me with him, using his body as a shield.

“You got a bathroom, Father?” Kim asked.

Father Francis scurried down the aisle, shutting the door behind Kim. “Of course, child. Just through there,” he gestured.

“Not funny,” Bex said, frowning at her as she walked past.

“What?” Kim said, oblivious. “Just because you're being chased by hundreds of demons, a girl can't pee?”

Bex just shook his head, laughing once, absent of humor.

I collapsed into the pew, exhausted. “Something is wrong. They should be here by now.”

Bex glanced at me, and then turned a page of the book, choosing to ignore my words.

“I should have helped him. Ryan was dragged to his death, and I just ran away,” I said, feeling the sting of salty tears well up in my eyes.

“I'm trying to read,” Bex grumbled.

A door slammed down the hall, and then Kim's loud footsteps announced her arrival before she came into view.

“Oh, geez. Are you crying?” she asked. “And where is everyone? They go out for ice cream or what?”

I dried my tear-stained cheeks with my sleeve. “Jared and Claire stayed behind to give me and Ryan time to get out. When we got to the alley, something took Ryan.”

“Something?” Kim said, eyebrow raised. “Like what?”

“I don't know. I couldn't see it. It was kind of like a shadow…but it was more…,” I trailed off, unable to find the appropriate word to describe it.

“Shadowy?” Kim said, unimpressed.

I rolled my eyes. “Not everything's a joke, Kim. Ryan's dead.”

“No he's not,” she replied, confident.

Her words peaked my attention. “Why do you say that? Have you heard something? Do you know where they are?”

Kim nodded to the door. “He looks like crap, but he's right there.”

I turned, gripping the top of the pew. Ryan, Claire, and Jared all stood near the entrance, dirty, blood-stained, and badly beaten. Before I registered that I was moving, my legs were carrying me down the aisle at full speed, and I crashed into Jared's chest. He wrapped his arms around me tight, and sighed with relief.

“Easy,” Jared smiled, returning my repeated kisses as best he could. He kept his weight on one leg, and his pants were torn.

“What happened?” I said, crouching down to get a better look.

“We won,” Claire said with a tired smile.

Ryan limped slowly down the aisle, his arm around Claire. Blood trickled from the outside of his eyebrow, and he was favoring his bad shoulder. They settled into a pew behind Bex, and Father Francis scurried away, waving back at them.

“I'll get the first aid kit!” he called to them as he disappeared down a dark hallway.

Jared smiled down at me. “We did it.”

I leaned up on the balls of my feet to touch his lips to mine. Jared's words were empty. Winning that small battle was only part of the war we had just started.

Jared led me down the aisle, sitting beside me in the pew behind Ryan and Claire.

Ryan leaned back, holding a folded piece of fabric against his eye. “Next time we get into it with Hell, I get dibs on Mr. Puff.”

Claire smiled, licking her split lip. “Your effort was impressive, even if that thing did hang you in the air by your ankle…and use you to open two doors…and make you scream like a girl.”

“I didn't scream like a girl,” Ryan protested.

“Maybe I was just hoping you would,” she grinned.

“Thanks,” he said, reaching out to touch her dirty face. His thumb gently grazed her cheek. “Again.”

Claire's eyes met his for a moment, and then she pulled away. “Just get used to it. You don't need to thank me every time I save your stupid ass.”

Ryan nodded, and then relaxed against the pew.

I watched Claire for a moment, as she desperately attempted to feign indifference. I could recall that expression well; Jared used it many times in the beginning. Unfortunately for Claire, Ryan was far more confident than I was stubborn, and he was certain she would come around.

My eyes settled on Jared's beautiful, dirty face. His eyes were tired, but bright blue, excited and amazed that we had the book and our lives. Seeing his expression only made it more real that he didn't expect any of us to make it to the church alive. A fact that, to me, was more unsettling than relief.