Father O’Malley cleared his throat, the sound echoing in the empty church.His voice, no longer strained by the demands of Latin incantation, reached us with unexpected clarity.“There is a matter we must discuss.”
We abandoned our pews and clustered near the altar, his words pulling us forward like iron filings to a magnet.Father O’Malley eased his frail body into one of the ornate chairs flanking the sanctuary.His descent was so labored that my hands lifted of their own accord before I caught myself.The touch of my cold, inhuman fingers would bring him no comfort.
The chair creaked beneath his weight, though he was not a heavy man.Rather, the opposite.
Father O’Malley’s lips trembled slightly before he spoke.“I find myself in the difficult position,” he said, his voice barely audible even in the church’s perfect silence, “of having to inform you that my service must soon come to an end.”
The words hung in the air between us.None spoke.I felt Desiderius stiffen beside me, his already rigid posture becoming somehow more pronounced.On my other side, Ruth shifted her weight, the floorboards groaning beneath her feet in the silence.
“My health,” the priest continued, pausing to draw breath, “has been failing for some months now.You have been gracious enough not to remark upon it, but I know you have observed the decline.”
“Father—“ Before I could finish my thought, he raised a trembling hand to forestall my protest.
“Please, child.Let me speak.”He closed his eyes briefly, gathering himself.“I have consulted with physicians.Their prognosis is...not favorable.Though they cannot identify the precise cause of my condition.”
“What do you mean, ‘not favorable?”I asked.“And no cause?There has to be a cause, a sickness.Perhaps a second opinion—“
“I do not know if I have months remaining, or only weeks.”Father O’Malley continued as though I hadn’t pressed the point.“But I sense—I know not how, save perhaps through the Holy Spirit’s prompting—that my time upon this earth grows short.”
A vise clamped around something in my chest cavity where my heart once pulsed with life.The terror struck like lightning through my dead veins, arresting even the pantomime of breathing I maintained out of habit.I stood petrified, lungs half-filled, throat constricted, as if turned to marble by Medusa’s gaze.
Without Father O’Malley, without this Mass, without the Eucharist—
I could not complete the thought.My inevitable fate was too terrible to contemplate.
“I have written to the bishop,” the priest continued, “informing him of my intention to retire from active ministry.He has been most understanding, though naturally he enquired as to the disposition of this parish.I told him...”He paused, his gaze growing distant.“I told him that my flock was small and unique—“
“I expressed my confidence that whomever he appointed would be sufficient, given our Lord’s providence, to care for your needs.The bishop has granted my request.”
“You’re leaving it to chance?”Rebecca asked.
“I said ‘providence,’ not chance.Through the eyes of faith, one can discern the difference.No matter the priest he appoints, you must believe it is God’s will.”
“Even if he won’t…help us?”
Father O’Malley nodded.“I could hardly tell the bishop of your true condition.What I know of what you are belongs under the seal.No matter what happens, you must persist in your faith.Even if my absence represents a trial for a time, be patient until God’s plan is manifest.”
Ruth shrugged.“Patience.I guess we have forever to wait.Not like we’re going to die again tomorrow.”
Again, I didn’t laugh.An eternity in damnation is still an eternity.I always had faith, and I still did, but my dead flesh was weak—and it required sustenance.If not the blood of our Lord, the blood of others.How long could we resist the urge to feed without the Eucharist?
“The announcement will be made official tomorrow.I will continue to say Mass here for the next few days, but...”His voice trailed away.He didn’t need to complete the sentence.We all understood.
The silence that followed was absolute.Not even the usual sounds of the church intruded—no creaking of old wood, no whisper of wind through cracks in the walls, no distant noise from animals in the woods outside.
Without the Eucharist, what would become of me?Would I descend further into monstrosity?Would the last vestiges of my humanity erode until I became the very demon Silas and the rest of the Order of the Morning Dawn believed me to be?
Father O’Malley must have seen something of this upon my face, for his expression softened with pity.“I am sorry, Alice,” he said gently.“I know what this means for you.For all of you.If there were another way—“
“There isn’t,” Desiderius cut in, his voice flat and hard.“We understand, Father.Your mortality is not a matter you can negotiate.”
I wanted to protest.There was another way—my teeth ached with the possibility.But the vision of Father O’Malley’s gentle eyes turning blood-red made my stomach clench.To condemn him to nights of hunger and days of hiding would be a perversion of everything he’d given me.Since Mercy’s teeth had torn open my throat and remade me, his was the only voice that had called me something other than monster.
Ruth turned away abruptly, facing the bank of votive candles that flickered in their red glass holders.Her back remained rigid, her shoulders high and tense.
Rebecca made a small sound—half sob, half whimper—and I thought she might flee.But she remained, though she swayed on her feet as though she might collapse.
Father O’Malley attempted to rise from his chair, but the effort proved too much.He sank back down, exhaustion written plain on his features.
