CHAPTER 5
1082 Words
Mark sped through the streets of New York towards the church to meet Patrick who, years ago had been Cindy's lover.
He was now a Priest in the vineyard of the Lord — a werewolf turned Priest.
The old church sat like a ghost in the heart of New York.
Mark’s boots echoed on the cracked marble floor as he pushed the heavy door which opened into a column of Pews; and stretching ahead across the pulpit, sat Patrick.
He was no longer a hardened killer.
He now wore a simple priest’s collar and knelt beside the confessional box, head bowed.
His lips moved silently, reciting a prayer as a woman emerged from the box with teary eyes.
Patrick finally nodded at him to come forward for his confessions.
Mark sat on the front pew and Patrick sat beside him.
"I know you came to kill me." A long silence passed. “I suppose she sent you.”
“I always thought,” Patrick continued quietly, voice rough like old paper, “that God would take me in my sleep, peacefully. But this... this feels more fitting.”
“I hurt her,” Patrick continued.
“I know, I was young, angry... drunk on power. She loved me, and I broke that love.”
Mark glanced sideways and saw how Patrick’s hands were folded in prayer, knuckles pale.
“I left everything behind,” he continued.
“The war, the Agency, the blood. I thought if I found God, He’d erase the past.”
Mark finally spoke, low and hoarse. “He doesn’t erase it. He just watches while you carry it.”
Patrick smiled sadly. “I’ve been expecting this... punishment,” he said.
"I heard about the prophecy and I'm sorry how I won't be there to ride on your back to freedom."
"God forgive you as He forgave those who'd trespassed against you."
Mark rose slowly, his grip so firm on the blade. Patrick stood too, he closed his eyes. “Is she alive?”
“Barely,” Mark responded and a breath escaped Patrick’s lips. He looked down.
“Then this is mercy.”
"This is restitution, father."
Mark stepped closer, guilt nudging at his heart.
He didn’t want to do it, but without this, Cindy's soul can never be free from the bonds of Patrick's past.
Their souls were tied, anchored by a past of passion and betrayal.
Patrick raised his chin. “Will you tell her?”
“Yes, I'll tell her I gave you a merciful death.”
“Good.”
Mark didn’t give him time to speak another word.
With one deep thrust, the blade pierced through cloth and flesh, sinking into Patrick’s chest like it knew its place.
Father Patrick gasp and gurgled through blood, then he crumpled to the floor, hands still clutched together in prayer.
His eyes were open, but no longer seeing.
The bond broke like a snapped chain in Mark’s chest.
He felt it like ice melting from a frozen vein.
Far away, he knew Cindy would feel it too. Mark bent down and closed father Patrick’s eyes.
“Forgive her,” he whispered. Then he walked out of the church, and didn’t look back.
Back at the cathedral, the soul tie had been broken and Cindy now fully recovered was left with another problem; she no longer remember Mark or anything about their mission as breaking the soul tie had fragmented her memories and emotions, leaving her blank and dry.
Meanwhile, somewhere across New York, the agency has placed a bounty on mark.
Words has reached Jones, the New York's Bounty Hunter and he rallied his men and drove towards the old abandoned cathedral.
Inside the cathedral, Mark sat beside Cindy on one of the front pews where she sat quietly, eyes staring into empty air.
The soul tie was gone, but it had taken away her memories.
“Cindy,” Mark said quietly, leaning toward her. “I know you don’t remember me, but you have to trust me now. We’re in danger.”
She shifted away from him. “Who are you and why do you keep saying my name like that?”
Mark wanted to explain everything but Jones had already stepped into the cathedral, flanked by two bounty hunters.
He was the kind of bounty hunter who only brought back dead bodies.
His voice echoed through. “Mark of the mud blood rebellion and the lost siren girl.”
Cindy’s eyes widened.
“Who are they?”
“They’re here to kill me,” Mark said without hesitation, then added, “And you.”
“Why?” Her voice cracked.
“Because of who you are and what you used to be.”
She stood, backing away from him. “You’re insane, I’m not going anywhere with you.”
Mark tried again, his voice like steel.
“I don’t have time to explain everything. If you stay, they’ll kill you, or worse.”
Jones raised a hand, signaling his men to fan out through the cathedral trapping Mark and Cindy in between.
He grabbed Cindy’s hand but she yanked back, violently.
“Let go, now!”
Jones was already raising his weapon.
She screamed at Mark. "They'll shot us, kill them!"
Mark didn't have time to think, he cracked his bones, reshaping beneath torn skin, muscles bulged, claws stretched and fur erupted.
He instinctively transformed into a Werewolf. Cindy staggered back, wide-eyed, still unsure who this guy was.
The hunters froze in fear when they saw the transformation.
One dropped his gun and another turned and ran.
Within seconds, the group scattered into the dusty street.
Jones also made to sneak out but Cindy raised an alarm.
"He's escaping, kill him!"
Mark moved like lightning, leaping over pews and rubble and landed with crushing weight atop the bounty hunter.
His claws were pressed against Jones's throat and breath steamed from his snout.
Jones figured it was useless to fight the beast, so he surrendered his hands but not in fear.
In his cunningness, he began to bargain his life.
"If you kill me, you'll lose more than you know."
Jones gulped, eyes darting.
"I'm worth more alive… to you than you think."
The weight of Mark’s claw didn’t lift.
He only wished to find Edwin, the last living Alpha wolf who can help him unite the hybrids and take down the agency.
"I know Edwin and I can help you find him." Jones offered.
- Writer
