You Again
1216 Words
Delilah walked through the baker's hallways.
Let them come to their own conclusions,
she thought.
The scent of bread clung to the air, but it smelled hollow now, like something left behind too long.
At the end of the hall, just before the door, there was a narrow mirror tall and thin, warped slightly at the edges.
She paused in front of it. Looked at herself.
She glanced at her cleavage; her cheeks were pink from warmth upstairs. Her lips, she realized, were still curved in a trace of a smile, not the soft kind. The kind she wore when people gave her too much power and didn't realize it.
She loosened the top button of her dress. Then another. Her fingers brushed the edge of her collarbone. She let the fabric fall just enough to show a sliver of skin that hadn't seen daylight in days. Her cleavage peeked more, as if calling someone to notice.
She tilted her head slightly and narrowed her eyes.
What the hell are you doing?
The thought slipped in uninvited.
Though she hated to admit it, part of her wondered what it might feel like to be seen...not watched, but seen.
She bit her bottom lip, contemplative, then chuckled in the mirror.
Delilah wasn't the type to care about appearances, not like the woman she helped. She wasn't dressing for stares. She wasn't like those women who curled their hair and painted their nails hoping some man would see them and want them.
But still... why was she doing it now?
Why had her fingers, without thinking, unfastened those buttons?
Why had she thought, just for a flicker, that maybe... just maybe... he'd still be outside?
That priest.
No, she thought sharply, fixing the line of her dress.
As if I haven't seen finer men than the priest.
She thought again, rolling her eyes in the mirror.
Don't start that. That's how it begins.
She adjusted her satchel and gave herself a last glance, then stepped out into the afternoon light without looking back.
-------
Delilah took a breath of fresh breeze... trying to forget the old, rotten smell still clinging from Helen's house.
Delilah looked around.
Was she taking in the scenery or looking for a specific priest?
She walked back toward the edge of town.
She kept her chin high, pace steady, letting the smell of warm apple pie and wood smoke fade behind her.
The square was nearly empty now, save for one figure leaving the church. He looked distraught as if he received some disturbing news. He leaned against the lamppost, pensive and quiet.
The priest.
Of course.
She slowed, pulled her veil up further, revealing more of her lips and nose. She didn't like looking at people, and the town didn't like looking at her.
She walked as if she didn't notice him, but she had.
He finally looked up... his face no longer pensive but still.
She caught his eyes flicker to her lips, before drifting back to her veil.
He watched her, not the way men watched her, but the way someone watches a candle from too close, like he wanted to touch it, even though he knew it would burn.
As she passed, his gaze didn't shift. It followed. Not hungry.
Just... surveilling.
She stopped; he approached closer.
"Did you pray for her?" she asked, not quite facing him.
He nodded. "I did."
Delilah turned slightly, her profile catching the streetlamp's glow. Her skin looked silver in the light, her eyes darker than the cobblestone beneath her.
"She's sleeping now," she said. "Less pain. That's what you want, isn't it, Father?"
His hands were folded behind his back, posture straight like a pencil. "What I want is for her to heal."
"Funny," Delilah said, half-smiling, "That's what I want, too."
She stepped closer... not much, just enough that their shadows nearly collided.
"And what was your reason for visiting Helen? You didn't tell me who you were..." The priest briefly smirked.
Delilah didn't know if he actually smirked or if he had caught himself, it had faded so quickly.
"Delilah..." she said swiftly.
She reached, like before, just beneath the skin of the moment searching for his sin, the way she could in everyone. Some flicker of ego, of want, of secret.
Still nothing. No rot. No blood in the air.
Just that blank page again.
The priest was pensive again.
"Delilah... Delilah." He muttered; his eyes narrowed an inch as he tried to scan Delilah's features.
"Do you enjoy being unreadable?" she asked, head tilted.
Jacob met her gaze calmly. "Do you enjoy being misunderstood?"
Delilah didn't answer. The smirk she wore stayed but thinned.
"Why were you waiting outside?" she asked.
"I wasn't," he said. "I was just... lingering."
"Same thing," she said.
"Not quite." He muttered.
They stood in silence for a moment, the church bell in the distance ringing once...low, soft, like it was hesitant to interrupt.
Delilah was about to walk away but the priest spoke up.
"I'm Father Jacob" he said.
I already knew that little priest.
"Jacob, huh? That's a strong name. Sacred."
Father Jacob gave Delilah a small smile. "Yes—"
But Delilah wasn't finished.
"But sacred things can be dangerous, too, can't they?" she said.
Father Jacob's smile vanished like a candle blown out.
Delilah heard some men coming out of the shops, she turned abruptly, not wanting any of their attention.
She walked away, not telling Jacob goodbye.
"Enjoy the rest of your day Delilah..." Jacob called after her, watching until the approaching men drew his attention.
********
Two men approached the priest.
"Father Jacob, I see you met the town's weirdo."
The other man snickered.
Father Jacob finally turned his attention towards the two men.
He shook their hands strongly, not avoiding eye contact.
"Burt. Gus. How are you?"
"We're good. We were happy to hear about you back in town." Burt said.
"Thanks for welcoming me." The priest nodded, with a bright smile.
Gus looked past the priest, toward where Delilah had stood.
The priest knew they had seen him interacting with Delilah.
"The town's weirdo? That's a bit harsh, don't you agree?" Jacob said sternly.
Both men looked at each other before quickly looking at their feet.
"But who is she?"
Burt answered, "She's the town herbalist, but Father forbade us from interacting much with her."
Father Jacob couldn't understand why Father Vornero would cast Delilah out like this.
He looked where Delilah had walked through, thinking about her cunning words, and strong aura.
He shook his head, focusing on the men before him.
"I just spoke with Father Vornero about the disappearances, but he didn't mention anything about the town's herbalist." Father Jacob said.
Gus shrugged his shoulders. "Father Vornero doesn't care about her, besides he thinks she's a witch, he told us we should stay clear from her, or she would curse us."
Father Jacob grew irritated as the men spoke. He couldn't believe Little Harmonie was so gullible.
Father Vornero... Is he the same man I once knew?
But why did this bother him? He had just met Delilah. He didn't even know her, even though he felt like he should.
He didn't want to admit this mysterious lady had piqued his interest.
- Writer
