I flatten against the wall of the cathedral.
In a blink, she steps deeper into the alley, sweeps past me.
What?! NO!
I take off after her.
This can’t be happening!
Tonight is the night!
I sprint. Faster. Faster.
Splashing through the puddles.
I’ve waited far too long for this to go wrong.
I won’t be denied!
I’m only a step behind.
Suddenly, in a flash, she whirls.
Faces me.
My heart stops.
She peers from beneath the umbrella’s flapping edge, her face hidden in the darkness, her words hard. “Who are you?” she demands. “Are you following me?”
Damn!
No time to answer.
The element of surprise is gone.
I leap forward, small knife clenched in tight fingers. As I do, I slash wildly, slicing the umbrella’s canopy.
Just as she shoves the ferrule, the umbrella’s sharp tip, straight at my eyes!
I duck.
The ferrule glances across my cheek and I stumble. Blood sprays, some onto the white walls of the cathedral as I land hard on wet cobblestones.
She jabs again! Throwing her weight into her makeshift weapon.
I feint, dodging the blow.
Spinning, I’m on my feet again.
I strike.
Hit her shoulder.
She yowls in pain and scrambles backward, flailing with the useless, maimed umbrella. But I hold on. Drive deep. As far as my blade allows. Twist the knife as she screams.
“Kristi!” A deep male voice yells. “Kris!”
What? Oh, shit! I waited too long!
The man who was following is approaching fast, his footsteps clattering, splashing.
“Kristi! Run!” the man orders at the top of his lungs. “Run!”
I have to finish this!
I yank the knife’s blade from her shoulder, hear the sucking sound, cut myself in the process.
Still she flails wildly with that damned umbrella, its canopy flapping, its steel spokes exposed and glinting in the barest of light from a streetlamp, its deadly tip menacing, slicing through the air too near my face.
This is not how it was supposed to happen, how with one swift blow to her jugular or her heart she would die in my arms, how I would exact my revenge as she looked into my eyes and realized in her dying moments who had taken her life and why.
“Ruuuuun!” the man yells, and he is closer now. Too close.
I knock her umbrella away and, raising my blade, I pin her against the wall of the church with my weight. Blood streaks the white stucco. Her blood.
“You sick piece of—” She kicks upward, hard, the heel of her boot hitting me square in the solar plexus. The air rushes from my lungs. Still gripping my knife, I slice crazily, the blade whooshing through air as I land. Hard. Stunned. Pain radiating through me.
Hold on to the knife. Don’t lose the damned knife!
But it slips from my fingers.
She is starting to come at me again, staggering upward.
I don’t give her the chance to attack.
I ram her hard. Force her back against the church wall.
Craaack! Her head smashes into the wall behind her and she crumples, slithering to the street, leaving a red stain sliding down the stucco.
“No!” The man yells, springing forward, dropping the bundle he’s been carrying, flowers and paper scattering in the wind.
Scrambling on the street, I find my blade just as Kristi’s would-be savior grabs me, strong fingers circling my neck.
I thrust upward.
The blade cuts into his chest, through flesh, marrow, and bone.
“AAAAhhh.”
Gasping for air, I rotate the blade. Hard. Force it upward.
His breath sprays me—air, spittle, and a few flecks of blood.
The hands at my throat fall away.
Blood from the cut on my attacker’s chest rains on me, and I tear the knife from his torso to strike again.
He blinks. Horror giving way to rage. In a split second his fist slams into my face.
Pain cracks through my jaw, rattling down my spine. My legs buckle and I stagger to my knees.
He rounds on me again. Unsteadily. His legs wobbling.
I duck the wild swing. Thrust upward with my knife. Hit my assailant’s thigh. Drive as deep as possible, all my weight into the jab.
He sways.
With all my strength, I force the blade to cut sideways, across the thick muscle.
Blood spurts.
More agonized screams.
And in the distance, sirens shriek.
Footsteps. Running. Hard. Fast. Splashing through puddles.
I fling the gasping man off and roll to my feet. From the corner of my eye I see that Kristi is rousing, blinking, her face ashen as she attempts to focus. “Oh, God!” she cries in agony as I stagger away. I see her stumbling forward, crawling to the dying man, cradling his head in her lap. “Jay!” she screams, her face in the dim light wrenched in pain as she holds him. “No. No. Oh, God. Oh, God. No, no, no!”
There isn’t time to finish her. Already red and blue lights are flashing, washing the cathedral’s walls in eerie strobing lights, lighting up the scene with its bloodstained cathedral walls, injured lovers, and scattered roses.
Without thinking, I pick up one of the long-stemmed buds. Then my mind clears. And I run. On unsteady legs, I sprint in the opposite direction of the police cars.
My face throbbing, I head to the route I’ve planned for months, fleeing down the alleys and streets, avoiding as many cameras as possible, head down, the raging storm my cover.
“Jay!” Kristi’s anguished screams follow me.
But I keep running, slipping twice, righting myself and catching a glimpse of the luminous eyes of the same shadowy cat I saw before. This time it is peering from beneath a scrawny bush.
Bad luck, I think.
Kristi Bentz is still alive.
I’ve failed.
This time.
But only for a while.
Keep moving. Just keep moving.
Don’t panic. Do not panic.
Next time, I think, the next time you won’t be so lucky, Kristi Bentz. Stumbling, I hurry through the shadows and rain, dodging the few people I come across.
Still grasping my knife in one hand, I reach into a pocket with my other and rub the stones of a well-worn rosary. Praying, I cut down alleys and side streets, moving steadily forward. My heart is thudding, my jaw painful, but the glorious rush of adrenaline keeps me racing forward, putting much-needed distance between the cathedral and me.
Thankfully, because I took the time to find out, I know where the street cameras are located and keep my head low.
Under my breath I whisper, “I believe in God, the Father Almighty, Creator of heaven and earth; and in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord; Who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary. . . .”
And then I disappear into the night.
CHAPTER 2
“Jay,” Kristi cried. “No, no, no . . .” Someone was tearing her away from her husband. She had to talk to him. To explain. To tell him she’d made a horrid, horrid mistake. To let him know that she loved him. Had always loved him . . .
Forgive me. Oh, Jay, please, please forgive me.
But she couldn’t get the words out.
Couldn’t focus.
Was drowning in the rain.
“Get her into an ambulance!” she heard over the sluice of water gurgling in gutters and downspouts.