Satan's Vessel

9.

Kaitlyn didn't need their help. She could help herself. She would get home, pack up and disappear. She had a stash of cash, and she had friends.

At first, the place looked strange; it didn't look familiar at all. Where had they taken her? Her heart was racing as she tried to get her bearings. She didn't want to ask for directions; people kept looking at her strangely. Kaitlyn could feel their judgement. Shoeless, dishevelled, smeared make-up and still dressed in the clothes she'd worn last night—what else would they be thinking? Keeping her head down, she avoided their eyes.

Then, after a few streets she began recognising things: a cafe she'd eaten at once; a lingerie store she'd visited years back when she'd still been dating Tom. A familiar bookstore. Yes. She knew this place. She started to calm and slowed her pace, looking around for a bus stop.

A car roared past. A man was hanging out the window, hooting and whistling at her. Her cheeks flushed as she lowered her face to the footpath. Thoughts of her dreams were never far away.

Kaitlyn soon found a stop that would take her in a round about loop to her home. She might not have her bag but she had some cash tucked into her bra. She always did, just in case she encountered trouble on the street—like she had last night.

She tried not to look awkward as she turned around and furtively slipped it out from her cleavage. Then she waited, her arms crossed as she curled her hand around her cash. Her head was down.

Kaitlyn felt eyes on her, judgemental eyes, leering eyes, malicious eyes. She saw no proof to back it up, but after the evening she'd had, she couldn't shake the feeling. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched by all sorts of predators—human or otherwise. At every passing shadow, she turned her head. At every hat she saw, she raised her eyes. As for any hoodies ... she slipped back into the steadily growing crowd of waiting passengers.

There were plenty of people about on the streets. Most were hurrying to work in their suits and skirts. Petrol fumes turned the air wavy. Horns tooted. Engines roared. The usual morning traffic was quickly building up. At a guess, it was probably after eight am.

It was so strange to see lives that were so normal after all that she'd been through. She thought of Jacob and all that he'd told her. The Fallen were chasing her: dark angels. Enemies of God. Allies of Satan. Was it all really true? Had she really seen what she thought she'd seen last night?

It all seemed so far away, now that she was back in the real world. Almost ridiculous. Why would Satan before seeking her? Out of all the billions of women around the world, why her? It seemed so sensational, so impossible. What had she been thinking? She started to feel better. She'd done the right thing in leaving. She would go home and think things through before she reacted. Maybe she could talk with Rachel, if she was still home. Her housemate was a logical person; she would set Kaitlyn straight.

She turned her head at the roar of an engine—her bus. Several people raised their hands to flag it down. She was patiently waiting to board when she turned her eyes upon a man standing across the street. Kaitlyn's heart did a little somersault. He was leaning against the wall of an apartment building, wearing a long coat and a broad-rimmed hat that concealed his face.

'Lady. Lady.'

Kaitlyn turned to the driver with a start. He was looking at her impatiently. She glanced around and realised she was the last one waiting.

'Sorry,' she muttered.

Keeping her head low, she stepped inside and handed over her money.

The driver raised his eyebrows at her appearance, taking particular note of her bare feet. 'Are you all right?'

'Keep the change,' was all she said. Just get me the hell out of here.

She sat down by a window facing the road where she'd seen the man standing. He was still there, but he'd removed his hat, revealing a balding head and the perfectly normal face of an older man. The bus lurched ahead, and Kaitlyn sagged back into her seat, relieved that she was just being stupid, relieved that she was finally on the move and she could leave it all behind.

Clearly, she just needed to calm herself down. And yet, her heart wouldn't stop pounding and she couldn't help but feel a nagging regret over what she'd done. So what if Jacob despised her? At least she'd been safe! But had she been? Who were those men, really? Was any of this real? It was all so preposterous. It didn't make sense. Ugh. She was so confused.

Dropping her head into her hands, Kaitlyn forbid herself to look out the window again.

Twenty minutes later and she was carefully making her way down the aisle of the bus as it approached her stop. Her appearance was attracting weird looks. An old woman was shaking her head.

The bus stopped and the doors opened. She thanked the driver.

The moment her feet hit the pavement, she hurried towards home at a fast walk. Once the bus vanished around the corner, she ran. A woman walking her dog watched in surprise as she rushed past.

Though her house was only a few streets away, her knees were soon aching and her feet were sore. Bare feet and a hard pavement were not a good combination.

She was panting by the time she reached her property. There were no neighbours outside. The trees were rustling in the breeze. The houses were quiet. Her eyes trailed over an unfamiliar car parked beside her wreck in the driveway. An expensive looking car. A Rolls Royce? Perhaps it belonged to a boyfriend of Rachel's. Kaitlyn frowned.

She was still trying to catch her breath as she stepped up to the door. It was only when she reached for her absent handbag that she suddenly realised she didn't have her keys to get in.

Fuck.

Kaitlyn knocked desperately, hoping against hope that Rachel was still home. She knocked and knocked, glancing over her shoulder as she did.

'Rachel!' she finally cried, ignoring the fear that her neighbours might hear. 'Open up! Please be home! Rach—'

The door opened, and Kaitlyn stepped back at the sight of a man. Her heart squeezed in horror. He was tall and slim and dressed in a cloak and hat. No. Not a cloak—a robe. A long black robe. And he wasn't wearing a hat at all. She shook her head, trying to get her thoughts straight. He was just a priest.

Just a priest. Kaitlyn's mouth went dry. What the hell was he doing here? She glanced over at the Roll's Royce.

'Hello,' he said with a warm smile. 'I am Father Bartholomew. Don't be afraid. We've been waiting for you.' He held out his hand. She looked at it, then tentatively reached out to shake it. It was cool and scratchy and so pale she could see all his blue veins.

'W-we?'

He stood to the side and Kaitlyn looked inside. Two more men were sitting on the couch in the living room. One was another younger priest. The second was a middle-aged man dressed in casual clothes. His face was leathery and worn, as though he'd lived a hard life. As strange as the situation was, Kaitlyn was relieved that they at least appeared normal.

Then she saw Rachel, who was standing by the other couch, pale-faced and uncomfortable and looking at Kaitlyn in confusion. She was ready for work, dressed in her blouse and skirt. Her curly red hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Kaitlyn suddenly realised that Rachel's heels and bag were waiting at the door, ready to go. The men must have arrived just as she was about to leave.

'You'd best come in,' the priest said, peering over her shoulder at the street. 'It isn't safe out.'

She entered and he closed the door behind her.