Black Borne by L.L. Farmer

Author:L.L. Farmer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: paranormal, historical, contemporary, supernatural, thriller, suspense
Publisher: L.L. Farmer
Published: 2017-10-05T00:00:00+00:00

I STOOD IN THE DOORWAY of the Priest’s room so exhausted that I struggled to stand. Lily brought me a dress I refused to wear. I couldn’t protect myself without the right clothing, so I settled for a pair of breeches from Timothy and a shirt where he had cut the sleeves. I preferred not to have all that fabric covering my arms. With my skin squeaky clean and my hair brushed and braided, I felt like the woman my mother had raised, the woman that Cuffee had loved. Even when I dressed like a man.

Priest sat in a beautiful, wooden chair carved to accommodate his long muscular frame. Though he sat still, face expressionless, I could sense trouble beneath the surface. I didn't want to delve into my ability to know this man since I did not like the connection between us.

“You say you saw an angel,” he said, looking up at me from the wooden carving taking shape beneath his hands.

I moved to the bed before I spoke, too tired to remain standing. It was as if the last few months had decided, at that moment, to take their toll on me.

“How do I know you saw an angel?” he said.

“You don’t and neither do I. I only know he called himself Rafael and sent me to Ft. Mose in search of Priest. Aren’t you the Priest that I seek?”

“You’re only a girl,” he said, shaking his head. “You cannot be this demon hunter.”

“I agree,” I said, giving into the need to lie down on his bed. So, this was why the white women and men lie in bed until late morning. I would have too if I had known such softness and comfort existed. Closing my eyes, I rubbed my face against a blanket so soft that I made sounds that should have shamed me. I promised myself only a moment of this new luxury, but I couldn’t seem to open my eyes. Although I wanted to converse with him more, I gave in to the desire to rest.

A small sound woke me next, my hand latching on an arm close to my head.

“This is why no one would come near you,” the Indian woman said. “You are dangerous even when you sleep.”

I looked around, but she and I were in the room alone. She shook her arm free of my grasp and stood full height above me.

“You slept for three days, like the dead,” she said, pointing toward my arm. “We couldn’t wake you, but you still protected yourself against any perceived threat. You fight even as you sleep, and every wound we nursed healed. How is this possible?”

I looked down at smooth skin where I had worn deep cuts right before I found Ft. Mose. That had been my last fight. I swung my legs out of bed, feeling stronger than I had in months. Sleep had been what my body needed to renew itself. Another lesson in immortality.

“Priest wants you to learn to fight.”

“I don’t.

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