The Blessed - By Tonya Hurley Page 0,100

Sicarius. What would Frey be doing taking him for a walk? Nothing good, Jesse was sure.

As for the others they were meeting, Jesse had never seen a psychiatrist sporting distressed leather and red high-top Chucks that he could remember. He did recall seeing a few rehab types wandering the hallways of Frey’s loony bin, lining up for the daily dose of morphine. How hard would it be for the good doctor to roll them over to the dark side for a few extra hits? Not very.

“Crackheads,” he mumbled to himself.

In fact, he might have put it down to a drug deal or even a robbery if Frey didn’t look so calm and in control. In command. The guys looked familiar to him. A local band, always looking for attention and always screwing up whenever they got it. It was almost like they just played music for the drugs. Took gigs to take the edge off the fact that they were waste products.

Frey sure gets around. No piece of shit was beneath his radar apparently, himself included, but then such a common touch was good for the hospital’s rehab fund-raising and the doctor’s personal profile. He had pull with both the upscale Park Slope prescription pill poppers and cred with the street fiends who squatted along the polluted Greenpoint waterfront, leaving aside the fact that none of them were ever cured, which was never really the purpose anyway. Now Jesse understood why. Frey was an equal-opportunity enabler and not averse to a little outpatient treatment.

He watched Frey suddenly excuse himself to a café across the street, and the guys remained in a tight circle, nervously eyeing the boarded-up entrance to the church.

Jesse checked his phone. His palms were sweating and it was getting harder to swipe his touch screen. Nothing from Lucy. He called and called. Again nothing. If she wasn’t at home, the only other place she could be was in there. And reception was probably awful. He looked over at Frey in the café window, calmly sipping his espresso, and suddenly, his minions broke for the church steps, looking from side to side to see if they were being watched.

Jesse texted.

They’re coming.

Jesse was out of options but desperate to help. He logged on to his site and updated his status. Time for a mob, he reckoned.

Can I get a witness?

He typed in the church address and hit send.

The candlelight was growing dimmer, bringing their moment together to a natural conclusion. But there were still questions to be answered.

“I know who you say we are, but I still don’t get what it is we need to do,” Lucy said. “Or why anyone would want to kill to stop us from just trying to be ourselves. Better people?”

“I don’t think this was meant to be a self-help seminar, Lucy,” Cecilia interrupted. “There has got to be a reason.”

Sebastian walked over to the reliquary and laid his hands on it reverently. He paused and then spoke with great deliberation.

“The day that I took the chaplets. It was revealed to me who they were destined for. And that I was to deliver them. At that time, my own fate was also revealed.”

“Like a prophecy?” Agnes said, naively. “What did they tell you?”

“That I had to find you before they found me. Before they kill me.”

“Over my dead body!” Cecilia shouted.

“It doesn’t matter what happens to me now. I’m ready to give my soul back. My only despair is leaving the three of you.”

Lucy was on the verge of tears. “We will protect you, Sebastian.”

He put his hand to her lips.

“My mission is accomplished, but yours is just beginning.”

“Mission?”

“The answer to your question,” Sebastian said. “Our reason to be here.”

“What do we need to do?”

“Two things. Call them miracles, if you like. The first, accepting who you are, is accomplished. The second you will have to find out for yourselves. Remember, they will not stop until your hearts do,” he continued. “Until your blood is on their hands.”

Sebastian could see the resolve in their eyes.

“By the first miracle, you are called Blessed. By the second—”

Agnes interrupted. “Saint.”

Sebastian’s eyes lit up at her understanding.

“You are the last of a line,” he explained. “If one of you is defeated before performing your second miracle, then the scale will be tipped forever in the direction of evil and the way will not be nor will it ever be prepared. It will either begin anew with you, or end with you.”

“Way for what?” Agnes said.

“For whom,” he said.