Page 10 of The Reaper
“Can you drop me off at St Michaels vicarage?”
I tensed hearing her say the name of that place. St Michaels was Reverend Johnson’s church. The same Reverend who’d tried to stir up trouble for us with the church diocese over the asylum chapel not so long ago. He’d since gone quiet. The fact that we weren’t using it for anything involving the public seemed to placate him. But I didn’t trust him, and I certainly didn’t want to rock up at his door on a Sunday morning with this girl.
“It’s my cousin’s house,” she elaborated. “It’ll be easier for me to go there and sleep this off. The less my parents know, the better.”
I shrugged. She didn’t need to give me an explanation. I really didn’t care. I wasn’t about to stick around. I’d drop her off and be gone in less than a minute. But I had to ask, “Won’t the vicar be there?” Curiosity had got the better of me.
“On a Sunday?” She laughed. “My uncle will be at the church giving his sermon. But Leah will be home, I’ve already text her to ask if I can crash for a few hours.”
I started the car, not bothering to use the sat-nav. I knew where the vicarage was. I hadn’t ever been in the church or the actual vicarage itself, but I knew it. Reverend Johnson had made a brief appearance on my shit list prior to me acquiring the asylum chapel for my own devices. Because of that, I’d done a few recon visits to the area. But in the end, I saw his meddling as a blessing in disguise. I got what I wanted. I guess, in a way, so did he. Although, I doubt he’d see it that way if he’d been in the chapel last night.
I drove in silence through the streets of Brinton Manor, heading towards St Michaels, but Jodie couldn’t stay quiet for long.
“I’m not going to the police, by the way. I’d rather just forget it ever happened. Not that there’s much to tell.”
Only because we got there in time.
“I doubt he’ll try anything else anyway after you all spoke to him.”
You have no idea who we are, do you?
“Thanks for giving me a lift. And for letting me have your room for the night.”
I sighed as we pulled onto the country lane where the vicarage was situated. The spire of St Michaels stood tall and proud, a short distance behind the old Victorian rectory. A beacon of false hope in the cloudless blue skies. The rectory was pretty non-descript. Hidden behind vines that twisted and clung to the brickwork, the house itself looked simple, basic. As if it was hiding from the world, unseen in the shadows of the grander, mightier church. But I liked it. The small wooden windows and black wooden door made it look like something from another world, another age even. A time when life was simpler, kinder. Maybe Reverend Johnson wasn’t all bad?
I pulled up beside the stone wall that ran the length of the rectory, separating the narrow lane from the small garden at the front of the house, and I kept the engine running, waiting for Jodie to leave the car so I could be on my way.
“Well, thanks for everything,” Jodie said, fiddling with the door handle to get out.
She stood up and closed the car door behind her, but when I saw her heel catch in the uneven pebbles of the country lane, making her stumble and fall to her knees, I turned the engine off and shot out of the car to run around and help her. Seems I’d be walking her to the door after all.
When I approached, she jumped up and announced, “I’m fine!” She kicked her shoes off and pushed herself up off the floor. “No need to panic.”
“I’ll walk you to the door,” I stated plainly, but she didn’t wait for me, just strode on ahead, opening the small wooden gate and shouting over her shoulder, “No need. I’m here now.”
I followed her down the path anyway, and when the front door shot open, every nerve, every muscle in my body froze.
I stopped dead in my tracks. A peculiar paralysis flooded my system, and its unfamiliarity made my brain scream in protest. I had never felt nervous or unsure about anything in my life, not for a long time, so this new, strange wash of adrenaline that was drowning me felt alien, and I didn’t like it.
I was stifled, constricted, like the breath in my lungs had become heavy rocks that pounded against my rib cage. I tried to stay focused and take deep breaths, but sparks of light started to dance in front of my eyes, and my head felt dizzy. If it wasn’t for the fact that my legs had become lead weights anchoring me to the floor, I’d have probably passed out.
What the fuck was happening to me?
Was I ill?
Trying to refocus myself, I glanced up at the girl that stood in the doorway. She was dressed all in black, with onyx black hair tumbling in waves over her shoulders. Her skin was pale, but her cheeks were flushed red, and her mouth was open like she was in shock. She stared straight at me, with the widest, bluest eyes I’d ever seen, and for a split second, I saw a forlorn look of sadness. But she blinked, painted on a smile and stuck her arm out towards me to shake my hand.
“Hi. I’m Leah May,” she said with too much enthusiasm considering the withered emotion I’d seen in her eyes just a moment ago. “It means God will judge you in Hebrew, but don’t worry, there’s no judgement here. I might live by a church but it’s all forgiveness and love. I wouldn’t ever judge anyone’s choices, and…”
She carried on wittering mindlessly, but I paid no attention to what she was saying. All I could do was stare at her outstretched arm, wondering if I should shake it or not. I couldn’t think straight. For some strange reason, this girl was fucking with my already frazzled brain. But before I could decide, Jodie reached out and pushed Leah May’s arm down and out of the way, snapping, “For Christ’s sake, Leah, did you really have to pull out the hellfire and brimstone shit?”
Anger surged through me. I didn’t like the way she spoke to Leah May, but I tried not to react, not to show any weakness. I kept calm, measured, and as I looked up into her eyes, she swallowed nervously and listened tentatively as her cousin continued to chastise her. “I already told you, stop listening to what your dad said. We googled it, remember? Leah means pretty girl, or weary girl, but let’s go with pretty.”
I thought weary girl suited her better.
“I like weary girl,” she said, mirroring my thoughts, and I tilted my head as I studied her closer.
Leah May’s cheeks turned a darker shade of red under my gaze, and I could see her hands start to shake. Funny thing was, mine were shaking too, but I was better at hiding that fact. How was it that I could gut a man without breaking a sweat, but this girl was making me question my sanity? I didn’t do nerves, or so I thought.
