The Claiming of Patrick Donnelly by Lynne Carol

Author:Lynne, Carol [Lynne, Carol]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Gay & Lesbian, Mystery, Gay, Thrillers & Suspense, Thriller & Suspense, Lgbt, Gay Fiction, Supernatural, Two Hours or More (65-100 Pages), Fiction, Genre Fiction, Gay Mainstream, Literature & Fiction
Publisher: Wilde City Press
Published: 2015-10-06T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

A knock on the door woke Fisher. “Yeah,” he hollered, reaching for Patrick. When his arms came up empty, he panicked. “Shit.” He threw off the covers and got to his feet. “Patrick!” he screamed, his heart racing.

The door opened and Jensen ran into the room. “He’s in the sanctuary. Brian’s with him, but he needs your help.”

Fisher’s chest tightened. Why the hell had he let himself fall asleep? The plan had been to give Patrick some time alone, but he’d never meant to fucking fall asleep. “Shit!” He searched the floor for something to put on until he realized the only thing he’d had to wear was the robe that Patrick had worn to the bathroom. “Let’s go.”

Jensen shot out of the room with Fisher on his heels. They ran down the long hallway through the kitchen and out the door. Fisher sped by Jensen and got to the church first. He threw open the door and came to a screeching halt. “Fuck me,” he whispered at the scene in front of him. He hurried down the long, center aisle, wondering why Brian was just standing there instead of helping Patrick.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Brian asked.

“What the hell’s going on?” Fisher clenched his hands into fists. He’d take on anything or anyone to protect Patrick.

“I have no idea, but I’ll find out,” Brian replied. “He’s obviously possessed, but how and by whom, I’m not sure.”

Fisher knelt beside the prone naked body. “Patrick?”

Positioned in front of the altar, Patrick was lying on his stomach with his legs together and his arms stretched out to the side. Damn. Patrick resembled an alabaster cross. Fisher couldn’t decide whether the glow that seemed to emanate from Patrick was coming from the beam of sunlight pouring over his thin body or from within.

Fisher picked up the discarded robe. He was tempted to put it on to shield his naked body from the others, but if Patrick had been lying on the cold stone floor all night, his body temperature had to be critically low.

“Patrick.”

Patrick didn’t acknowledge him, just continued to chant in…was it Latin? He waved, getting Brian’s attention. “Is he speaking Latin?”

Brian nodded. “The same phrase over and over. Psalm ninety-one, one through sixteen.”

“Which is?” Fisher asked. He wasn’t as knowledgeable of Bible verses as Brian was.

“He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say to the Lord, “My refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.” For he will deliver you from the snare of the fowler and from the deadly pestilence. He will cover you with his pinions, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness is a shield and buckler. You will not fear the terror of the night, nor the arrow that flies by day.” Brian glanced from Fisher to Patrick. “I think whatever allowed that spirit to possess him yesterday, is allowing a different one in today.” He pointed to Patrick. “Only this one is trying to keep him safe.

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