The Last Handful of Clover - Book 2: Gifts Both Light and Dark

2.58 Trading One God for Another

June 15, 12:13 am

Tuilla had seen a great deal of death in her time. But never had she seen terror linger on a face the way it did on this young girl. The shock and confusion on her face encapsulated all the existential horrors of the unknown, and all the mindless panic of the cruelest death. Tuilla did not know what exactly had happened to this girl in those few minutes while George was speaking to his angels, but it must have felt like having your soul torn apart by wolves.

If my hands weren't useless in the world of the living, she thought, turning her face away, I'd at least reach down and close her eyes.

Blinking away the tears, she looked up at the statue of Moroni on the spire of the temple. The statue looked upon the scene with indifference, his trumpet's call to glory mocking the pathetic and tragic way in which this innocent soul had died.

The last of the ghosts were leaving the corners of the plaza now, streaming out to fresh horrors. They had received their orders, and like dutiful soldiers, they would carry them out. Tuilla fought against a hard despair, which whispered to her that they had already lost.

When Richard loped back to her side, she thought of trying to hide the girl's face from him. Would he lose all hope too, if he looked on that death mask?

Taking his elbow, she led him quickly away from the scene, and was grateful that he didn't want to linger over the body in the shadows.

Richard was angry. Perhaps that is best, she thought. Perhaps his anger will keep him from losing hope. If I had anger left, perhaps it could save me too. But I'm so very tired.

"Why did you try to stop me?" Richard snapped, pulling away from her hand on his elbow. "Maybe I could have gotten to him in time. Maybe I could have gotten into his jeep, or followed him. God dammit!"

When she didn't speak, he turned and finally looked at her closely by the reflected light of the temple. Please don't let him see it in my eyes, she thought.

For a long time Richard just stared at her. She was afraid to ask what he saw in her face, but it was clear that whatever it was troubled him. Finally, he looked away and scanned the plaza. "They're all gone now," he said. "Where are they going?"

"I don't know. But I think this is the beginning. If it hasn't already started, then it will soon." Even she could hear how weak her voice sounded, and how little remained in it for the Disruptor to draw upon.

Richard sank down on a concrete bench. And for the first time since this began, he seemed reluctant to look at her.

"So. What do we do now?" he asked.

"I don't know."

His eyes shot daggers at her. "Is that right? You don't know?" His voice had so much acid in it that it burned her ears. "You're a couple hundred years old, and you've been preparing for this for God knows how long. And now that the moment has arrived, you tell me you don't know?"

"I'm sorry," she said, unable to meet his gaze. "But I fear we may already be too late."

Richard made a sound in his throat that was somewhere between a growl and a laugh. "And here I thought you were this old, wise woman that had all the answers."

"I wish that were true, Richard. But from here on out, I'm afraid that nobody knows what is going to happen."

"Well then, fuck that. And fuck you." Richard said, and stomped away. He stopped about ten paces from her, and she saw him looking up at the temple. For a long time, the silence of the plaza pervaded everything. It was so quiet that when he spoke again, she heard him clearly, even though he was whispering, and did not turn to her.