sisterly hug.
"It's time things got started."
~ * ~
The nave was ablaze with candlelight. Louise couldn't believe it; she kept imagining a whole group of bloodsuckers knotted on the steps by the church entrance, having a friendly little conference about how to get inside. The easiest way would be to lift something really heavy—and oh, God, they were so strong!—and simply ram one of the doors with full strength. With a door busted—
"It wouldn't matter, you know." Jo's gentle voice floated from the circular area at the rear of the altar, where she was rummaging in a chest topped by a velvet cushion. "They still couldn't step over the threshold of a holy place."
From where she sat, Louise had to squint to see Jo's face and her smile amid the wildly flickering candlelight. "You read minds?" Louise asked incredulously. Directly across from Jo, Beau snoozed on another velvet settee, oblivious to the occasional scrabbling sounds at the front doors.
Jo made her way back to where Louise rested. "Of course not. I just assumed that's what you were thinking. Look." She held up bandages, adhesive tape, and a bottle of scarlet liquid—Mercurochrome.
"Do churches always keep medical supplies behind the altar?" Louise asked dryly as she reached for them.
Jo pushed her bloodied hands aside. "I'll do it, and no, that's just where I put them for emergencies. Handy, too—I don't think you would've made it to the back offices, and certainly not the kitchen. That's in the basement." Trying to descend the stairs earlier had nearly made Louise pass out; two fuzzy seconds later she had found herself held by Jo's slender but very strong arms, and she flushed with embarrassment at the recollection.
"It's been a long day," she muttered.
"I'll bet." Jo set a plastic bowl of water on the pew next to Louise. "Let's take a look." Louise reluctantly held out her palms. Both were scored with small, deep gashes; some still bled while others had stopped simply because the flesh had swollen the cuts shut. The skin was a colorful combination of blue, black, and yellow.
It's the candlelight , Louise thought grimly as Jo dipped a soft cloth in the bowl and began to carefully sponge the wounds. They won't look that bad tomorrow . Aloud she asked, "Where'd you get the water?"
"It's river water," Jo answered. Louise's eyes widened and she started to pull away, but Jo held her firmly. "Don't worry. It's been blessed."
"Blessed?" Louise eyed the bowl doubtfully. It looked clean and it had been nearly two years since any of the factories had operated. Still. . . .
"’I will wash mine hands in innocency,'" Jo quoted. "Psalm Twenty-six." She pulled Louise's hand closer to inspect it; it looked raw but she couldn't see any more dirt. She spread a towel on her knees and rested the injured hand on it while she opened the bottle of antibacterial. Louise hissed as the medicine sank into the gashes and pain lanced up her wrist.
Jo looked at her in concern. "I'm sorry it hurts, but this red stuff should keep it from getting infected."
Louise gave the girl a taut smile. "Just get it over with." Jo bent back to her task, but Louise could see Jo's dread in the tense set of the younger woman's shoulders. At last it was over and Jo taped clean gauze around both of Louise's hands. "I can't move my fingers," Louise complained. "Can’t we fix it differently?"
"You don't want to move them for a while." Jo pressed the last pieces of tape in place. "Otherwise you'll open the wounds." She pulled a small packet of aspirin from her pocket. "These will help the pain. I'll get you some drinking water, then we'll look at your knee."
Louise watched her go, noting the way Beau followed the sound of her footsteps across the floor with sleepy snuffles before laying his head back on his paws. The girl was . . . what? Some kind of angel? With her hip-length platinum hair and that white dress she was almost too bright to look at. Had she lived all these months in St. Peter's?
"It's time things got started."
~ * ~
The nave was ablaze with candlelight. Louise couldn't believe it; she kept imagining a whole group of bloodsuckers knotted on the steps by the church entrance, having a friendly little conference about how to get inside. The easiest way would be to lift something really heavy—and oh, God, they were so strong!—and simply ram one of the doors with full strength. With a door busted—
"It wouldn't matter, you know." Jo's gentle voice floated from the circular area at the rear of the altar, where she was rummaging in a chest topped by a velvet cushion. "They still couldn't step over the threshold of a holy place."
From where she sat, Louise had to squint to see Jo's face and her smile amid the wildly flickering candlelight. "You read minds?" Louise asked incredulously. Directly across from Jo, Beau snoozed on another velvet settee, oblivious to the occasional scrabbling sounds at the front doors.
Jo made her way back to where Louise rested. "Of course not. I just assumed that's what you were thinking. Look." She held up bandages, adhesive tape, and a bottle of scarlet liquid—Mercurochrome.
"Do churches always keep medical supplies behind the altar?" Louise asked dryly as she reached for them.
Jo pushed her bloodied hands aside. "I'll do it, and no, that's just where I put them for emergencies. Handy, too—I don't think you would've made it to the back offices, and certainly not the kitchen. That's in the basement." Trying to descend the stairs earlier had nearly made Louise pass out; two fuzzy seconds later she had found herself held by Jo's slender but very strong arms, and she flushed with embarrassment at the recollection.
"It's been a long day," she muttered.
"I'll bet." Jo set a plastic bowl of water on the pew next to Louise. "Let's take a look." Louise reluctantly held out her palms. Both were scored with small, deep gashes; some still bled while others had stopped simply because the flesh had swollen the cuts shut. The skin was a colorful combination of blue, black, and yellow.
It's the candlelight , Louise thought grimly as Jo dipped a soft cloth in the bowl and began to carefully sponge the wounds. They won't look that bad tomorrow . Aloud she asked, "Where'd you get the water?"
"It's river water," Jo answered. Louise's eyes widened and she started to pull away, but Jo held her firmly. "Don't worry. It's been blessed."
"Blessed?" Louise eyed the bowl doubtfully. It looked clean and it had been nearly two years since any of the factories had operated. Still. . . .
"’I will wash mine hands in innocency,'" Jo quoted. "Psalm Twenty-six." She pulled Louise's hand closer to inspect it; it looked raw but she couldn't see any more dirt. She spread a towel on her knees and rested the injured hand on it while she opened the bottle of antibacterial. Louise hissed as the medicine sank into the gashes and pain lanced up her wrist.
Jo looked at her in concern. "I'm sorry it hurts, but this red stuff should keep it from getting infected."
Louise gave the girl a taut smile. "Just get it over with." Jo bent back to her task, but Louise could see Jo's dread in the tense set of the younger woman's shoulders. At last it was over and Jo taped clean gauze around both of Louise's hands. "I can't move my fingers," Louise complained. "Can’t we fix it differently?"
"You don't want to move them for a while." Jo pressed the last pieces of tape in place. "Otherwise you'll open the wounds." She pulled a small packet of aspirin from her pocket. "These will help the pain. I'll get you some drinking water, then we'll look at your knee."
Louise watched her go, noting the way Beau followed the sound of her footsteps across the floor with sleepy snuffles before laying his head back on his paws. The girl was . . . what? Some kind of angel? With her hip-length platinum hair and that white dress she was almost too bright to look at. Had she lived all these months in St. Peter's?
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