Sinners and Saints

Sinners and Saints Chapter 10 - Our Day Won't Come

Jamie and I sleep late.  So late that I wake up hot and kick the covers away, squinting at the amount of light in my room.  Jamie still has a death-grip on me and I have to pry his hands off of my chest to get up.  He doesn’t wake. 

“Wonder what Jill gave him?” I chuckle to myself and stretch out my muscles as I head to the bathroom.  My foot’s only slightly sore today and my hands have nearly completely healed.  Just a few scabbed scrapes now. 

I shower and dress quickly, glad for the notes that Jill has left to remind me to pack the remainder of my personal items.  I store things quickly and close the bedroom door so Jamie can keep sleeping. 

“Last day,” I tell myself, getting a water from the fridge and looking around.  It already doesn’t feel like my home any longer.  Not after last night.  I turn off the alarm but leave the door locked.  It’s too late for breakfast – practically lunch time – so I check my phone for messages and plan the short hours left in Miami. 

Text from Drake:

Have a safe flight.  Call me when you get there. 

Text from Jill: 

I’m off at 2.  Can take you to airport. 

Text from Jojo: 

Taking afternoon off.  Don’t you dare leave without saying goodbye. 

I log onto the Father’s VPN and send a lengthy email to both him and Jojo, describing what happened last night and begging both of them to be extra-careful.  I assure them that I’m fine, but that there isn’t much known right now about who or why and to keep in contact with Clark and/or Darius.  It seems so strange to encourage them to stay close to an arch-demon, but we are supposedly batting for the same team now, aren’t we? 

Just as I’m logging out, the bedroom door opens and Jamie slumps against the doorframe, “Hey,” he smiles at me, “Why didn’t you wake me up?” 

“You were tired,” I tell him, “How’s your head?” 

“Ok.  Not as sore as I thought it would be.  Could use some water and aspirin, but I don’t want any more of Jill’s pills,” he grins and I hand him a bottle out of the fridge.  The last one.  Rebecca can buy her own damn groceries. 

“Do I get to ask about your dad now?” 

He drinks and I dig in the cabinet where my various OTC’s are, finally coming up with two Bayers, “He’s fine,” Jamie takes the pills from me and downs them with another glug, “I knew I shouldn’t have left you.” 

“Stop, Jamie,” I tell him, “I practically pushed you out the door.  It’s my fault.  You warned me – and I didn’t listen.  Last night wasn’t your fault.” 

His eyes tell me that he doesn’t believe me fully, “I bought him some Tums and he was fine half an hour later,” he lowers his eyes, still guilty, “But there was an accident on 112 and I got held up.” 

“You got here in time,” I tell him, “That’s all that matters.  I’m ok and you and Clark chased him off.” 

“You gave them a description?” he asks, “I was a little out of it last night.” 

“As much as I could,” I assure him, “Just like you and Clark did.  Do you think it’s the same guy?” 

“I don’t know,” he drinks again, “The MO is different, but he might have just taken a chance.  The last woman he attacked is still comatose.  She’s the first one to survive.  The first one that might give us some info.”