Devious - Lisa Jackson [105]
Asteria was pushed hard.
She fell to the ground, gravel cutting through the dress, slicing into her knees. “What are the wages of sin?” the voice demanded.
What? Fear skated on tiny blades over her skin.
“For the wages of sin are . . .”
Oh, God! “Death,” she squeaked as terror screamed through her body. Silently, her voice now having abandoned her completely, she began to pray.
Our Father who art—
A noose was cast over her neck.
No!
Fight, Asteria! You have to fight! There’s no one to help you!
She tried to rise, but the thin, strong loop around her throat tightened quickly, cutting deep into her flesh.
Panic surged through her, a screaming redness flashing before her eyes.
Fight! Run! Get the hell away from this psycho!
She tried to scream. To breathe.
Her fingers clawed at her neck, searching for purchase, trying to yank the vile garrote free.
Oh, please, Father, please, save me, she thought wildly, all the while struggling. She flung one arm through the air while the other dug at her throat, trying to loosen the cutting noose. Her lungs were on fire, her brain screaming in pain. Blackness pulled at the edges of her consciousness, and, as if from far away, church bells began to clang.
Oh, no . . . please . . . Savior, please . . .
She was spinning, pinned down by the crushing pressure in her chest. Her soul clung to her body for a last second before, as if rising above her body, she saw her attacker twisting the garrote, forcing the sharp, steely cord into her flesh. From above, she watched as spots of blood bloomed at her throat, small garnet gems that glistened and spread. Her body bucked, then went limp.
Zzzt! Snap!
In that instant she slipped away, floating upward, thinking in dissociated, fragmented thoughts that the bright flash that exploded before her eyes was the one so many people spoke of, the light that leads upward. Oh, God . . . The blackness came over her again, a thick, murky cloud that absorbed her pain, quieted the terror.
She was dying.
She knew it . . . brokenly, her thoughts random.
But one question cut through her brain like a hot knife through butter.
Would the gates of heaven be open to her?
Or, as she feared, would she be cast into the very bowels of hell for all eternity?
Psssst!
Lucia’s eyes flew open.
No! Not again!
Not before she could leave . . .
Her heart clamored, and despite the cool, slight breeze wafting softly through her open window, she was sweating, her scalp wet from perspiration. She clutched the sheet and thin blanket covering her body and prayed she was mistaken, that she hadn’t heard the unearthly voice, the rasp of a demon against her ear.
“Please, Father,” she whispered, her body so tense she could hardly draw a breath. In her mind’s eye, she saw the image of an angel, arms uplifted as if reaching for heaven. “Not another . . .”
But she knew in the very primal part of her, the thin slice of her brain where fear and hope collided, that she was being forced again into a new and dark horror.
The midnight bells were tolling, soft and plaintive in the night.
Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.
With a feeling of panic, she rolled to the side of the bed, grabbed a habit from her closet, then tossed it over her head. The second the skirt hit the floor and her arms were through the sleeves, she snagged her rosary off the bedpost with trembling fingers and, praying softly, followed the preordained path.
She could almost smell the evil that lingered, the scent of demon spoor as repugnant as it was earthy and seductive, as she hurried out the door of her room and down the dark tunnel of a hallway to the stairs.
She didn’t expect to meet anyone, but as she rounded the corner, she nearly collided with Sister Edwina. “Oh!” Lucia said, clutching her chest. “What’re you doing up?” The communal restroom and showers were in the opposite direction.
“Couldn’t sleep,” Edwina said. “And you?”
“Come with me. It’s too hard to explain.” She tugged on the other nun’s habit and kept moving, not wanting to think too hard, not