Chapter 9A full moon lit the cells that night, bathing my wounded Rebeka in the softest of lights. I held her through the bars, whispering to her. “Stay with me a while longer, Rebeka. I will get us through this. Rest now, tomorrow they will come again.” I fed her then from my own wrist. I thought only of keeping her alive, and what new torment the morning would bring. She was weakened by her fight, her hands burned by sunlight, her face red with her tears of fear and pain. I told her stories of the ancient times, before the coming of the Church, of the hunters. I told her of my Jesse, of Moira and Leonard. Near to dawn she slept some, falling into the near comatose sleep of our kind. I drifted too, unable to truly sleep, but riding a nightmare out of that cell for a moment or two. Then ca
