to light and guard

chapter one

"Angel of God, my Guardian dear, to whom His love commits me here, ever this day be at my side, to light and guard, to rule and guide. Amen." -the guardian angel prayer

When the demon exited Sister Mary Eunice's body, a frigidness sucked into her to fill the void that it left behind; the cold seeped down into the very depth of her bones. A bright white light beamed from somewhere above. "J-Jesus?" she whispered to the face that loomed between her and the light source. But the shape ducked out of view before she could murmur to it again. The light didn't look like heaven, not in any way that she had imagined it. This light didn't sparkle and glow with the warmth of God's love like she had felt before. It chilled her, exposed her; the whiteness of it, like a blizzard, left no room for a temperate gesture. Her nude body shuddered once under the gazes of the other people in the room—she could not make out their faces, but their silhouettes moved like shadows, voices familiar and yet unrecognizable.

The words made little sense to the befuddled Mary Eunice, flowing into nonsensical jumbles. "Her temperature is spiking again. We need to cool her down—"

"No. Get her out of here, now, while we still can. She's still susceptible." A cold washcloth dabbed at her face. She flinched away from the rough fabric against her sensitive, sweaty skin and attempted to mumble a protest, but it emerged in a slur. "She won't survive another exorcism. We must get her to safety while we have the opportunity." There were hands all over her skin; each one stung and smarted upon contact. Please, no... A thousand pleas died on the dry fat of her tongue, and tears rolled down her hot cheeks. "Help me move her."

Someone wrapped her up tightly. It scratched against her exposed flesh like sandpaper. She whimpered and closed her eyes against the bright shining of the light, turned her head away. "Are you sure that she's herself again? Absolutely sure?"

The hands on her roamed some more, lifted her like an infant and settled her onto something much less comfortable. Her body throbbed with the impact and her head lolled backward with weakness. Please, God, just let me die. "Look at her face. She's crying. She's ashamed. This is our Sister Mary Eunice."

"The devil has many tricks, Monsignor."

A cool touch brushed her hair out of her face. Her frazzled nerve endings drove pain through each intimate contact. "Not like this." The soft tone of his voice shifted abruptly. "Take her to the car. We must instruct Miss Winters on her condition. Neither of them are to speak about this. We cannot risk the exposure of Briarcliff right now." He cleared his throat. "We have things we must clean up."

The feeling of drifting followed, and Mary Eunice drifted like a leaf on a stream, a feather in the wind, in and out of consciousness. Her head bumped several times against something solid; each time, she grunted and attempted to shift, but she didn't have the strength. Those invasive hands had left her alone. Something rumbled underneath her. It sounds like the ocean, she considered dimly. The waves rolled in and out, carrying her along with them. The salty flavor of the water stung the tip of her tongue. It left her parched and shivering with the icy wind that hadn't yet left her goosebump-ridden skin.

How long she lolled about on the ocean, striking her head and wanting to die, she hadn't a clue. Her world faded to a numb darkness. Only the cold remained.

...

As the long black car pulled up in front of Lana's house, her lip automatically curled without consideration. She clutched her cup of coffee tightly, watching as the driver, an unfamiliar man, and the Monsignor emerged from the front of the vehicle. How she had allowed herself to be bullied into this position, she wasn't certain. Mary Eunice. What a bitch. After the nun had confirmed her pregnancy, the mere thought of allowing such a sadistic woman into her home caused her to cringe. I'll take care of that problem whether she likes it or not.