Everybody had “their space” in the chapel; museum tableau in pools of flickering light surrounded by stark shadow. Felix at Eve"s bedside; in candlelight when she was awake, in the dark when she slept. Aimee and Luis encamped mid-way down the nave, their backs against the wall with the vestibule, ambulatory door to the bell tower, and gallery all in view. Father Trevelyan in the gallery, crucifix in hand, watching and listening at the broken balcony door; God"s sentinel. When Brandy or Ray relieved him, the priest floated down the stairs like a character in a gothic novel to pray at the High Altar or rest upon its steps.
Loup, free from his catalepsy since the Templar"s attack, avoided these pools and their occupants and roamed the patches of darkness between like a nocturnal predator.
W
