Hallowed (Southern Watch Book 8) by Robert J. Crane

Author:Robert J. Crane [Crane, Robert J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ostiagard Press
Published: 2024-06-15T00:00:00+00:00

“So,” Hendricks said as he and Rhea passed through a series of hallways at the back of St. Brigid's. He hadn't meant that as a statement, but it came out as one, freestanding. She didn't turn to answer him, just kept striding through the halls on her tiny legs, leading him past classrooms that were used for Sunday school, or maybe regular school.

“Yes?” Rhea asked, stopping at one of the classrooms and opening the door. It had one of those glass slit windows that let people look in. Boxes of stuff were piled up around the edges, giving it the appearance of a storage room, but little wooden tables and chairs still filled the center, and a few posters were visible peeking around the boxes bearing slogans that Hendricks wasn't too familiar with, probably stuff from the bible. One of them said JESUS LOVES and the rest was cut off. He imagined it finished with something pedestrian, but got a chuckle out of the idea that the unseen words were something offbeat, like JESUS LOVES CHILI CON QUESO, or JESUS LOVES THE DALLAS COWBOYS – AT LEAST IN THEIR WINNING YEARS. BUT THE CHEERLEADERS ALL THE TIME (AND ESPECIALLY AT NIGHT, WITH THE LIGHTS OUT, UNDER THE COVERS).

That brought an irreverent grin to Hendricks's face. He'd loved the Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders when the lights were out at night as a teenager.

Hendricks shook off the goofy thoughts and focused on the pint-sized guru before him. She had changed since last he'd seen her, all those years ago in the hospital. She'd provided financial support, but that was via checks in the mail to places he was heading, made out to cash, and phone calls wherein she offered him guidance that hadn't steered him wrong, exactly, but had made him question his sanity once or thrice. After all, nearly dying and then taking a single digit aged child as your spiritual guide to vengeance against demons? He knew what sanity was, and he never bothered to profess he was entrenched deeply within its echelons. Because this shit was crazy.

“You strayed from the path, Hendricks,” Rhea said, with just about as much feeling as Starling ever brought to any of their trysts. “And now look what you've wrought.”

He sighed. Time was, he might have gotten mad at being confronted like this. Now, though, he just pulled his hat off and sat on one of the little miniature chairs, cradling it and cutting his eyes low. “Yeah. I fucked, and I fucked up bad.”

“I see you retain your talent for understatement,” Rhea said. She did not sit. Didn't matter; she was still roughly on eye level with him thanks to these stupid kiddie chairs. “And cleverness.”

“Well, I tried to get rid of 'em, but it's like a bad case of the clap,” Hendricks said. “My question is...what do we do now?”

She was quiet for a spell, staring at him, skinny arms crossed over her skinny torso. “What do you want to do?”

Hendricks chuckled. “Well,

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