CHAPTER 9: Running
273 Words
We left at 3am.
No bag. No money. No plan. Just each other and the clothes on our back. And the curse we now shared.
The exorcist was at the church gates when we slipped out the back. Tall man with a collar and a book. He didn’t see us.
"Where to?" I whispered as we cut through the alley.
"Anywhere they’re not," Elias said. "Anywhere we can pray without permission. Anywhere we can just... be."
We ended up in a small town 4 hours away. Rented a room above a bookstore. The owner didn’t ask questions.
First night, we didn’t sleep. We talked.
About his seminary days. Sneaking out to help homeless people. About how he always felt too much.
About my first 100 years alone. Hunting. Breaking people. Feeling nothing.
About how his hands still healed, but only me now. And how my curse now warmed instead of killed. When I touched him, he didn’t get colder. He got steady.
"God has a sense of humor," Elias said, laughing into my shoulder at 4am. "Gave me a gift to save everyone. I used it on one Shadow."
"Best use of it," I said. And kissed his temple. He smelled like old books now.
For 48 hours, we were normal. Two guys in a room. Buying groceries. Arguing about who cooks.
Elias even tried to teach me how to pray. Not for forgiveness. Just to talk.
Then the letters started coming.
Burned edges. Black ink. No postage. They just appeared under the door.
One word: FOUND.
Elias picked it up. His hands didn’t shake. Mine did.
"They found us," he said.
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