The old cathedral looks dreamlike in the two a.m. glow, lit only by dim streetlights and the moon. Zero stumbles out of the car like a wounded animal, making his way toward the heavy, ornate doors. He knows they will be unlocked. This isn’t the first time he’s done this.
The nightmares are hard to shake without Felix by his side. Kenny is a comforting presence, but there’s only so much he can do when he knows so little, and Zero would rather keep it that way. He’s already on borrowed time. The saint will cast him out once he knows the truth. In the meantime, he’s grateful for his patience and his grace, and his willingness to bring him here in the middle of the night with no explanation.
The lights are low inside, just enough to maintain visibility. Candles do most of the heavy lifting up front, dancing and flickering, casting strange shadows on the crucifix, Christ’s beautifully agonized face. A lone nun lingers off to the side, observing the few late-night worshipers—a shivering addict, a bruised sex worker, two homeless men in tattered coats.
Zero goes to the front and lights a candle, shutting his eyes and whispering a prayer under his breath. He’s aware of @swallowrot behind him, watching him, no doubt confused and concerned. He doesn’t know what to say to him. He continues to pray. It goes on for a long time, until finally a feeling of calm washes over him, the nightmare banished back to Hell.
When he opens his eyes, the addict and the sex worker have gone. The men appear to be dozing. The nun is nowhere in sight, though she must be around here somewhere. Zero reaches for Kenny’s hand.
