16Prologue
"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen. Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee."
The words spoken so quietly fell away into the awaiting darkness. The beads of the rosary slipped easily through his fingers, well worn and smooth as silk.
"Blessed art thou amongst women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus."
Music drifted to him from the garden at the back of the house. The party had begun. He could see the masked dancers in his mind, their smiles hidden behind faces not their own; the costumes glittering in the light of the moon and the lanterns strung in the trees.
"Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen. Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee."
There was one guest that had not arrived as yet. His blazing presence would be sensed immediately by the youth. It was this man whose arrival he feared. And yet a part of him longed for what he offered. It was this that terrified him.
"Blessed art thou amongst women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus."
He looked down on the driveway that led to the front of the house, its twists becoming lost in a row of stately dark trees. Lightning bugs flickered in the branches and would have been enchanting to anyone else's eyes, but to the young man trapped behind the locked door to his room they offered no comfort or amusement. He barely saw them.
"Holy Mary, Mother of God."
He could make out the silhouette of the two servants that stood on the front porch waiting for the last guest, their shadows thrown in huge relief against the asphalt drive by the light that streamed from the huge front windows. It would be soon.
"Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen. Hail Mary, full of grace."
Lights danced down the drive, bouncing off the trees, illuminating the perfect green of the lawns beyond.
"The Lord is with thee."
The car came into view, sleek and black and driven much too quickly.
"Blessed art thou amongst women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus."
It careered up to the porch, tires squealing as the car slid sideways to a halt.
"Holy Mary, Mother of God."
The door opened and he stepped out. Even from three stories above, the youth could see the flash of white teeth as the man smiled broadly. He wore a long black cape lined with red satin. His long coat was black as were the tight trousers. The shirt was of purest snow white, froths of lace spilling from the collar and wrists. He was nothing if not dramatic. His black curls were combed back to lie on the collar of his cape. The dark eyes flashed with amusement as he moved to the other side of the car and opened the door.
"Pray for . at the the our death."
Tears sprang to the boy's eyes, blue as a summer sky and ringed with dark grey. A slender woman with a spill of long blonde hair emerged from the other side of the black car. She kept her eyes averted, not wanting contact of any kind with her partner. The man turned then and looked up. Their eyes met and held. Then the man laughed.
" ."
The youth shuddered and stumbled away from the window, the rosary beads spilling to the floor with a whisper of silver and wood. The tears fell down his pale cheeks, wetting his long dark lashes. The harsh light of the bathroom led him on. He pushed aside the door and stood, leaning against the rust stained sink. The mirror showed him his reflection, deathly pale in the fluorescent glow, the shadows beneath his eyes leaping at him. Resting so unobtrusively on the sink was the razor blade: one of his grandfather's. His fingers fumbled for it, slicing open one slender digit. He automatically raised it to his lips. He stared at himself, blood clinging to his lips.
"Hail Mary..pray for us."
He raised one bruised wrist and laid the cold metal against the skin.
"Pray for us now at the hour of our death."
There was pain, but he was used to pain, and then the blood flowing sluggishly down his arm. He stared at it, admiring the contrast the crimson made with his pale skin.
"Please let me die." he whispered to his reflection. "Please let me die."
Soon blood flowed down his other arm as well. He lay the razor on the sink calmly. Blood had splattered onto his face and ran in small rivulets to drip from his chin.
"Don't let him come yet. yet."
But as it ever was there was a sound at the bedroom door, the dead bolt on the outside scraped open, the skeleton key turned in the other lock and the knob twisted.
"No..No."
He plucked up the razor once more and slashed violently on his wrist, sobs building in his chest.
" !"
The bathroom door was shoved open and he stood there, his dark eyes filled with fury. He grabbed the youth's arm, twisting it violently until the razor dropped to the faded linoleum floor.
"What are you doing?" He hissed, his teeth bared in a feral snarl. "You won't escape me that easily."
The boy stood swaying on his feet, his vision blurring. Lack of food and loss of blood taking their toll at last.
"Hail Mary full of grace.."
The man roared in anger and backhanded the young man viciously. He sagged downward, the edges of sight darkening.
"The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst women and the fruit of thy womb, Mary."
"Get up! You will not escape me! I won't allow it!" The man jerked him upright, angered by the slight smile on the youth's lips.
"Mother of God, pray for us sinners."
Then the world went black.