Chapter Forty-Four
When he felt the cold sting of water touch his face, Rick’s eyes snapped open and he saw that he was looking up at a young nun. In fact, when he moved his head he saw that there were two nuns looking over his aching body. He had no will to speak and if he could, he doubted very much that he was able to speak – his entire body screamed out in pain.
The young nun he had first seen placed a calming hand on his shoulder. “Easy, Richard,” she said and then looked up at the other nun.
“You are at the convent of St. Vincent,” the older one began. “We found you amongst the ruins of Darvon Keep.”
Then he sat up – head swimming. “The ruins, you said,” he repeated and mused over this a moment. “Then the castle has fallen?” His clothes were still on but they had been ripped and burned on almost every inch.
“It has,” answered the old nun, and as an afterthought, “You were fortunate to have survived. We arrived some time after the fact and found you under some rubble.”
The young nun reached over and pulled out a wet rag from a bowl of water on a table next to the bed. She brought it to Rick’s head, but he pushed it away. She seemed to have cowered and bent her head in submission and back away several feet.
Rick turned his attention back to the old nun. “Are there any other survivors? Women?”
She shook her head. “No. Tracy is no longer with us and I’m afraid your wife has taken that same journey to our Lord,” she said and heard a faint sound coming from the next room. “I think Vincent is awake.” Then she turned to the young nun. “Sister Agnes, would you mind attending to the child?”
Sister Agnes nodded and turned, only to be stopped by her superior. “We need to make funeral arrangements also – could you handle those as well?”
Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.
She nodded and headed out of the room.
“Funeral?” Rick said and the old nun returned her attention back to Rick. “Who died?” he asked.
“Our Sister Catherine. She was older than I and couldn’t take the journey to Darvon Keep.”
“You speak as if you already knew everything that was happening.”
She smiled. “There are prophecies, Richard. You and Tracy are but one prophecy in the Great War of the Dreamkillers. I admit that I do not have enough clairvoyance to see that far into the future. But yes, I knew.”
Sister Agnes returned carrying an infant wrapped in cloth. “He’s ready,” she announced.
“Now wait a minute,” Rick stood up, almost falling to the floor as he did so. “Ready? For what?” He had his suspicions and he looked accusingly at the old nun.
“For a father. You most presumably promised Tracy that you would look after her son,” she said behind a grin.
“Yeah, but,”
“You are to leave, Mr. Hopman, after the funeral. We will drive you to the airport,” she said and left the room.
Sister Agnes, feeling awkward, paused before handing the baby over to Rick. Once she did she turned tail and scurried out of the room before Rick could protest.
He looked down at the boy and the alien feeling quickly escaped his being. Holding this child felt right. And when the baby looked up and saw the battered face looking down at him, he smiled and then seemed to cackle in laughter.
“Someday I’ll tell you about your Mom and how she killed Orion,” he said. It may not be the absolute truth, but every son needs to have a hero. What he would edit out is how the devil single-handedly ripped Orion’s soul in two and dragged him down to hell.
What exactly the future holds for Rick and Vincent, even the clairvoyant nun could not foresee. Maybe his war against the Dreamkillers was over. But then again, perhaps this battle was just the beginning. Either way, he had made a promise to his best friend that he would look after her son. No matter what.