Lucidity

Chapter 32 - Half-past Dead

Jimmy forced himself awake, fought to banish the nightmare. He was pinned to the bed by a heavy weight, crushing him, stealing his breath. He panicked, his eyes flew open, and he saw the weight was Alex. How the boy’s frail body could have seemed a crushing force he had no idea, but it had brought him back to reality, so that was all that counted.

He blinked, surprised that somewhere beyond the grey clouds scudding through the sky visible through the window, the sun must be up. He wanted to raise his head, look at the clock, but it took all his energy merely to keep his eyes open. And to breathe. As if his time on Earth had dwindled to the point where it was now measured by each beat of his heart.

The swoosh of the machine that kept Alex’s lungs inflated mixed with the boy’s raspy breaths. Jimmy inhaled and the stench of death and decay nearly choked him.

Then, before he could stop himself, he drew another breath in, this one shuddering through him, and tasted the fresh energy of youth and innocence, of a life about to be cut short, of rich blood waiting to be shed.

Jesus Mary Patrick, no! He pushed himself upright, trembling hands gently rolling Alex off his chest, freeing himself from the boy’s embrace.

His palms left sweat marks on Alex’s pajama tops. Jimmy’s entire body had broken out in a cold sweat, drenching the sheets, turning them into clammy swaths that clung to him, holding him fast.

Jimmy reached for Grace, her touch would banish these insane feelings that threatened to devour him. She was all he needed.

Grace was gone.

That jolted him from bed. He staggered across the floor, bracing himself against the wall, as far from the sleeping children as he could get. His stomach lurched in anticipation as his gaze fell on Kat, curled up on the chair, the faint, silver light escaping the clouds bathing her in a glow of innocence.

He licked his lips, tasting blood once more, knowing the thrill of encircling her throat with his hands, squeezing the life out of her, capturing her last breath as his own.

“No!” The single syllable escaped his lips in a strangled whisper. He stumbled through the door, pulling it tight behind him, a flimsy barrier between him and madness.

His gaze darted down the hall. Where was Grace? His entire body shook with need, his legs threatened to dump him onto the floor he felt so weak.

A familiar figure beckoned to him from the janitor’s closet across the hall. Jimmy slit his eyes at the silver-haired man, now outfitted in a green custodian’s jumpsuit. Leo. The devil himself.

As he staggered across the hall, he wondered how the blood of an immortal and conniving Jesuit would taste.

“Now you know why so few make it as far as you have,” Leo greeted him with a knowing half-smile. “It must be difficult being here, surrounded by all this easy prey.”

“You could have warned me,” Jimmy said through gritted teeth.

This was how the others before him had lasted more than their allotted time—they had bought their way with the blood of innocents. Not merely blood, but devouring their energy, stealing away all that remained once they died.

“You wouldn’t have believed me if I had. Besides,” Leo’s smile widened, “stubborn Irishman that you are, would you have really changed your mind? Turned your back on Grace when she needs you most?”

Jimmy choked back his desire to see how well his fingers fit around the monk’s scrawny neck. “You know I wouldn’t. But at least I would have been prepared.”