Out of Time 01 - Out of Time

said finally. “It’s only a week until the eclipse.”
    “Too much can happen in a week,” Simon said, as he pushed off the bed and started to pace.
    “What else can we do?” she asked, and then quickly read his expression. “We can’t leave. He’ll follow us.”
    He gritted his teeth and shook his head. “Have I mentioned how much I hate this?”
    “I know,” she said. “And I’m so sorry about your grandfather’s ring.”
    Simon dismissed it, but there was something very troubling about it, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Perhaps King had taken it as tangible proof of his knowledge about them. “It’s not important,” he said. “We’ll find some protection tomorrow. Go to St. Patrick’s and get supplies: holy water, crosses.”
    He didn’t actually put much stock in the idea of religious icons affording them protection, but if there was even the slightest chance they might help, he’d get them.
    “I don’t remember reading about any accounts of vampires that match your description,” Simon said, his need to categorize and analyze giving him a respite from the helplessness he felt. “The veins are somewhat similar to the Danag of the Philippines, but the eyes are all wrong.”
    “Maybe having a soul mutated him somehow?”
    “Perhaps. You don’t remember any particular odors?”
    “No. Why?”
    “Some species give off a slight metallic scent. Some attribute it to the blood they’d consumed. Others, ancient alchemists, believed that if you could find the proper ore, you could forge a weapon to kill them.”
    “You don’t see a lot of forges on the lower east side.”
    “No,” he said with a small grin. “But I’m sure there are factories not far away. It’s something to consider. Silver shouldn’t be that hard to find, although I doubt we could afford very much.”
    “And we’re not even sure it would do any good.”
    She pulled the pillow tighter to her chest, and he sat on the bed next to her. Her beautiful blue eyes filled with tears again, but she fought against them, trying to be strong. Simon moved closer to her, and she settled into his arms. He rested his chin atop her head. He would do what had to be done. Whatever that meant, whatever it took, he’d find a way to protect her.
    “It will be all right,” he said and kissed the top of her head. “I promise.”

Chapter Twenty Three
    “D oesn’t stealing it de-holy it or something?” Elizabeth whispered, as they dipped another vial into the shallow holy water font. She wasn’t religious, but stealing from a church couldn’t be good.
    “Shhh,” Simon urged with a nervous look around.
    Old St. Patrick’s was a heavily frequented church. They’d almost been caught twice by people passing by on their way to pray.
    “Can I help you?” said a familiar voice with an unmistakable Irish lilt.
    Oh boy. “Father,” Elizabeth said as she turned around.
    “And what exactly would you be needin’ with, well, the entire day’s holy water?”
    “It’s a funny story really.”
    “Oh, is it now?”
    “Not exactly funny-funny, but... Tell him Simon,” she said with a nudge to his ribs.
    Simon rolled his eyes and recapped the small vial. “I don’t expect you to understand or even believe me, but we need this to fight a vampire.”
    Elizabeth dropped her vial. “Sorry,” she said and scrambled to pick it up.
    Father Cavanaugh sighed and nodded. “I see. Perhaps we should continue this in the back?” he said, and gestured to a door in the rear of the church.
    Elizabeth started down the main aisle, then self-consciously doglegged through a set of pews to the far aisle. There was always something about churches that made her vaguely uneasy. It wasn’t the quiet. After all, she loved libraries. She’d never put her finger on it. She always thought it was the formality of it all; being told where to sit, what to believe.
    Softly murmured prayers filled the silence. As she watched Father Cavanaugh and Simon whisper something to each other, she realized what it was. It was secrets. Everyone there always seemed to know something she didn’t. For all her conviction, for all her words about believing being enough, a part of her always questioned, always doubted. She wasn’t raised in any particular religion and for the first time she envied those who were. She looked up at the brilliant sunlight streaming through the stained glass. How comforting it would be right now to give herself over to an