Page 123 of Blood Lovers

This little light of mine...

Then another voice joins in, a boy. He’s laughing as he sings. I squint as I watch the kids outside, desperate to see him. But he’s not here. I don’t know his name, or how old he was, or what his face looks like.

Mine? Does he look like me? Or did he look like his mother?

I’m gonna let it shine…

Jane. Paul called her Jane.

Then another voice is added to the chorus. A sweet voice in a higher octave. A girl.

Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine…

I picture them—no, I picture us—standing outside there on the side of the road, looking out at the afternoon sky and the snow-covered mountains, enjoying the day, and the drive, and each other. And I am suddenly angry.

Why?

Why did God take them away from me?

I’m not stupid. It was Paul. I know he killed them. I think I knew it back then too. I don’t remember much of them at all, but I remember Paul. Not beautiful Paul—which isn’t an illusion. It’s just how he looked before the Darkness got him—but monster Paul. The winged thing. The ugly face. The horror of him.

He was stalking me for weeks. Years. No. A lifetime.

My whole lifetime.

He was always there. That’s why I went to church. That’s why I believed. That’s why I prayed, and prayed, and prayed. Because I knew the evil was real and if the evil is real, then so is the good. They can’t exist without one another. That’s just not how it works.

I was a believer.

Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine…

I believed. And maybe that was the problem. Maybe… maybe the ones who don’t believe have it better? Because if you don’t believe in good, then the evil doesn’t care about you.

A knock on the glass startles me and I look over to find the father of the kids peering though the layer of steam that has coated my window.

I buzz the window down and stare at him. We’re about eye to eye and I notice his are blue, like ice. Like Paul’s.

“Hey.” He smiles as he stares at me, and it’s genuine. “My wife noticed you were alone and we just wanted to make sure you were…” His smile falls. “Uh… just… to see if you were… OK.” I squint at him and he takes a step back, putting up a hand. “Didn’t mean to bother you.” He takes another step back. “We’re… we’re leaving now.”

Then he turns and I watch in the rearview mirror as he ushers his family back into the RV, giving my truck one last glance before he disappears inside. A few moments later, they pull away, leaving me alone.

When I focus my eyes on myself in the mirror, I see what he saw.

A monster.

My face is still the same, but my eyes are red. Not bloodshot, but red.

I just gave that man a glimpse of evil and he, unlike me, was wise enough to get the fuck out of here while he still could.

I suddenly want to leave. But I don’t pull out after the RV and get behind them. I don’t want to freak the guy out. I don’t want him to think I’m hunting him. And he will. Because out here there aren’t many people travelling, especially in the middle of winter. I’ve traveled hundreds of miles along a Montana highway with the same cars on many occasions. One stops to get gas. One stops for food. I keep going. Fifty miles later, I stop for gas and watch from the pumps as they pass by me. It’s like a little game of tag out here on these roads.

I don’t want to travel Montana with the family I lost.

I want to throw myself over that cliff, actually.

I want to die and I have wanted this for decades.

But just like Paul said, And in those days shall men seek death, and shall not find it; and shall desire to die, and death shall flee from them.