Don't Fear the Reaper

Don't Fear the Reaper: Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

I looked over at Nex. He was wearing the darkest look I had ever seen on him. His face was hidden in the shadows of the moon. He sat cross-legged, head bowed, lips thinned, barely moving as he spoke. 

“I will kill all of them.”

“You’re over-reacting,” I told him, my voice echoing through the church even though I had kept it as low as possible, “They didn’t cause half the trouble I thought they would.”

But Nex wasn’t the one to listen to me. His next words were loud, lashing. “They don’t understand!”

I took my hands in his. “Why will they? They’ve never been through the same thing.”

He tried to look away from me. “I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”

He was being such a baby. I wasn’t quite sure what to say to that.

“If it’s any consolation, it’s mine,” I said, “Does that matter, though? How long till midnight?”

He glanced at his watch, and then gazed at the altar. “About half an hour.” He seemed a lot like the Nex I had met on the first day.

That was why I remained mute, allowing him to drown in his thoughts in the silence. I kept a sideways glance at him. Now more than ever, I could understand that he was a creature of the night, inhuman at its finest. He almost blended in with the gray shades of the church, and that had nothing to do with the clothes he was wearing. It was his presence in itself: it was like he belonged to this time of the day, who went in perfect harmony with it and yet stood out.

At the same time, he was the most humane person I’d come across.

               My mind was at constant wondering. Would we be able to do it? Would the spell work out, after all?

I wasn’t too sure I wanted to face death – or three of them – again. And what was my part in it?

I toned down the inquisitive side of me, and just relaxed. I took in the pleasure of being close to Nex. He didn’t move a muscle, he just stared straight ahead. Chalky shades of the pews lay behind us, and the stained glass windows glowed dimly, in the light of the moon. The church was one of the most beautiful in Denver. The ceiling was high, towering over us, painted with the most brilliant colours of the scenes from the Bible.

“Claire?” he spoke up, still gazing at the altar.

“Yes?”

“What’s it like?” he was the one who asked the question, “To have something to believe in?”

“It really is easier,” I replied, “Maybe you were right. Maybe we just wanted to find an easy way out to explain everything – this whole life and death thing. But I don’t know about you, if I were to die anyway, wouldn’t I want to believe in something that gives me faith?”

Nex nodded. “That does seem…vital.”

I laughed. “It’s fascinating,” I told him, “I’ve literally watched you grow so much, emotionally. I can’t wait for the days to come.”

Slowly, he faced me, and took the chalk he had brought with him, along with the other necessary items. “It is flattering that you take so much interest in me.”

               The brown hard leather bound book was open in front of him. Carefully, he began to scratch out diagrams on the dark marble floor. The chalk was pink and wet, embedding bold imprints on the ground.

The diagram of the pentagram and various symbols I couldn’t recognize came out in straight strokes, amazingly neat and symmetrical. Nex didn’t even have to glance at the book to see if it was correct.