You may have read a similar chapter in Mad Night, but this is considerably different, so do read it. This is not going to go exactly as Mad Night. Thanks!

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

What Now?

“Don’t, Mark!” Tears burst from her eyes. “You’re scaring me! Let me go home, please, let me go home! You’re not like this. You don’t want to hurt me, Mark, and you know it.”

“No, I don’t want to hurt you. Just relax and it won’t hurt.”

“NO… .”

His mouth attacked her, plastering slimy kisses all along her face and neck. Her ribs felt strained between his heavy weight and the force of her sobs.

…….

Grace trembled in a fetal position while the tears poured. Mark covered her with a blanket and knelt in front of her. There was demon inside of him, causing his steel blue eyes to glow menacingly in the dark.

……….

Leathery hands yanked her back. A gloved hand silenced her scream.

No! No! God not again! Father Hanson’s iron grip… iron fingers… Oh, God, help me!

She lifted her pepper spray, dropping her purse. Her assailant toppled onto her. Line of sight blocked by a masked face.

Steel blue flashed through the eyeholes…

His weight made it near impossible to fight. He ripped the spray from her hand and threw it.

“NO!” Grace rolled to her side, pulling the blankets up to her neck. Ginger’s sleepy dog moans filled the room. Stupid teeth chattering. Wrists stinging. God, help me to stop panicking. It’s over. It’s-

She bolted up. The hall light shining through the half-opened door illuminated Ginger’s tail curving against the floor. Everything was silent, and… Where was Jacob?

“J-Jacob?”

Remembering that she’d dressed in layers, she pushed the covers away and tip toed toward the door, her shaky breathing filling her ears. She lifted the pepper spray from her pocket and padded down the hallway, stopping where it met the living room. To her right, Jacob was spread out on the sofa, apparently sleeping soundly. She let out her breath. His silence had been explained.

Steel blue eyes flashed…

Her shoulders shook.

She could either lie in the darkness with these nightmares scrolling through her mind, or she could go to the kitchen, get a cup of tea, and start to feel like a real person again.

Tapping her finger on her chin, she spotted the blanket she’d been using earlier tossed over the coffee table, and made her way toward Jacob. He lay on his side, arms folded, right shoulder nearly sliding off the edge of the couch, left shoulder cocked toward the back. Holding her breath, she lifted the blanket and spread the cover over everything but his legs from the knees down. When she mistakenly brushed his arm with her hand, she froze. He squrimed a little, his head turning, and then... he settled.

Jacob Davies is sleeping on my living room couch. How weird is that?

If it wasn’t for him, what would have happened to me tonight?

Her eyes stung as her finger ran along his curl, which stretched out and then sprang back. Staring at her crazy finger for doing what it had just done, she straightened. Then completed her trek to the kitchen, where a radio.CD player sat atop a wooden shelf in front of one of the windows. Jacob must have closed the blinds. She silently thanked him and double-checked to make sure the door beside her was locked.

Even though the door was locked, she couldn’t be sure who might lurking outside and what kind of skills they had. He could be a locksmith, a carpenter, a doctor or surgeon who knew how to expertly cut people to bits. She shuddered.

In front of the backyard fence stood some bushes that formed somewhat of a shelter that someone could have used for a hiding place. The police had found shoe prints on the damp floor of that shelter, telling them that the attacker had probably been hiding there until Jacob carried Grace inside. If that was so, then when did he finally leave, and why the hell hadn’t Ginger barked at him? Why hadn’t she started barking until after the idiot had thrown her flashlight?

Tugging on her t shirts, she went to the cabinets at the other end of the kitchen, finding the pre-made cake decorator frosting she’d purchased. She selected a rectangular pound cake from the freezer and set it on the counter that overlooked the dining room. From where she stood, she could see Jacob sleeping diagonally from her left.

The wind howled. She turned to the window above the sink and lifted the blind with her eyes half closed, praying to God she wouldn’t find a black-masked man standing there. Thank God, nothing. Nothing but a black, starry sky and the silhouettes of trees.

Back at the coiunter, she spooned two big globs of frosting into a plastic bowl, opened the drawer below her and produced her food colors. Red swirled into white. Red like blood and lost innocence. She lowered the spoon. NO. Red like roses and white like snow. Blood spilled on the snow.

Shut up!

She clamped her hands down on the counter and inhaled deeply. Across from her on the dining room table sat a stack of papers. What the heck? Did I leave something out, or did Jacob find some of my private writings? She marched over to the table and swiftly lifted the stack.

The first page held a copy of Pslam 199. Some notes were written across the bottom:

1) The dog didn’t bark after the man got away, but if he’d been hiding in the bushes, then shouldn’t she have continued barking?

2) If the dog knew him, why did he feel the need to cut the leash and let her get away?

3) Was this some sort of set up? If so, who was he setting up? Me or Grace or both? The big question is why would he want to set us up?

Well, if this doesn’t prove his innocence, what does?

Of course, he could have planned that attack so that he could come to your rescue and make himself look like a hero.

That’s ridiculous! He’s a priest. He doesn’t have the money for that kind of thing, and he’s never been anything but kind.

She flipped through the papers and sighed, her eye catching on the words “Mad Night”. Below were the words to a poem or perhaps the lyrics to a song:

Mad Night…

We must have met a thousand years ago

You took my hand

I followed sure

Had it been planned?

Coincidence or destiny?

I crossed into eternity…

We’ll live forever in this Mad Night

Forever in this Mad Night

Live forever…

Fate or a mistake ?

Gifted or are we cursed ?

The living do not understand

Our Plight

Animals or lost humans

They debate

We endure their hate

We’ll live forever in this Mad Night

Forever in this Mad Night

Live forever…

Fate or a mistake ?

Gifted or are we cursed ?

Shrouded in darkness

We dance in moon beams

While they hunt us in the sun

Ignorant of our desire

Harm not the innocent one.

Mad Night,

Changing into the gifted (cursed)

Shifting shapes of energy,

Life's haunted,

Clothed in anarchy.

Can you catch me,

Can you save me,

Can you change,

Just to be with me ?

-Jacob Davies

Her mouth ajar. Jacob wrote this? What was it referring to? Sick people?

We dance in moon beams

While they hunt us in the sun

Ignorant of our desire

Harm not the innocent one

“Hmm..”

“ TARA!”

Gasping, she spun and lowered the papers.

Jacob’s shoulders jumped, arms spread- one out, one up. The blanket flew off of him as he rolled- right onto the floor with a muffled thud. Grace took a step forward, then back as he pushed himself up, gulping air and running his hand through his hair.

His wide eyes came up to meet her.

“Are you OK?” She asked, pursing her lips.

He lifted the blanket and set it on the couch. “Yeah,” he breathed.

“Who’s Tara?” You shouldn’t have asked that. What if he doesn’t want to talk about her?

With his head down, he said near a whisper, “An old friend.”

An old friend who gave you a nightmare that caused you to roll off of the couch? Something tells me she was more than a friend. But I’ll butt out.

Had a tragic romance sent Jacob into the priesthood? Hopefully it was nothing as simple as that.

When he wiped his sweat-shimmering forehead with the back of his hand, she asked, “Would you like something to drink? I have tea, bottled water… coffee…”

He squinted at the light. “I didn’t hear you get up… I’m sorry. I should have heard something.”

“You were tired.”

“But what if you’d been in trouble?”

Leave it to a man to be so protective of the female. “It’s OK, Jacob. I’m OK.”

He looked doubtful. “Are you sure?” He approached, scanning the bowls and food coloring on the counter top. She’d definitely grant him a piece of cake when she was finished… either tonight or in the morning if he went back to sleep before she was finished.

“I didn’t want to …” be alone, having nightmares all night.

He lifted his brows as though waiting for her to continue.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Not soundly, anyway.

“That’s understandable.”

“You can have a seat there,” she nodded at the dining room chairs. “I’ll get you a drink.”

His eyes roamed to the papers in her hand, bringing heat to her face as she extended them. Noticing the way they shook in her grasp did nothing to ease the embarrassment, but she managed to peek at him as she licked her lips. “I’m sorry. I saw these and thought they were mine at first.”

He clenched the small stack of papers with a shrug. “It’s OK. I’ve got nothing to hide here.”

“Interesting poem… or song?” She pointed at the top page, and he frowned. The slant of his dark, bushy browns gave him somewhat of a devilish appearance. She retreated a step, grabbing a chairback and thinking she’d made a huge mistake, allowing him to stay here tonight and then reading his personal work.

“Thank you,” he said. “I wrote this years ago, but it still has some meaning for me.”

“Meaning?”

He nodded as he slid a chair out and lowered himself. “I’ll be happy to explain once I’m a little more awake.”

Right. Awake. Here she was, wide awake with a priest in her dining room, cake decorating supplies spread out on her counter, and a maniac running around outside. Suck it up, Grace. You have no choice but to suck it up and move on, just like you’ve done for the past sixteen years. It’s either that or drown in fear and spend another hour in the shower scrubbing the hell out of yourself.

“I’ll get you that tea.” She moved into the kitchen and stopped in front of the refrigerator. As she lifted the bottled tea, she peeked into the dining room and found him rubbing his eyes. To think only moments before, she’d run her finger along his curl, admiring his strong form and thanking God that he’d come to her rescue.

So now what? Now that he was in her house, what the hell would she talk about, aside from that song and the attack? Talking with him might be as awkward as it had been with Joe.

oooo

"Mad Night" actually written by JennieMR and SessoSnowqueen. :D Thanks, Sesso.