Chapter Playlist: You Don't Have to Say You Love Me - Dusty Springfield; Silver Springs - Fleetwood Mac. (License is taken with musical time frames in this story because - let's face it - we don't really know how much time has past. I suspect a lot.)

Silver Springs

She left Frank and Shelley playing cards. She'd been sorely tempted to join them - despite Shelley's strong encouraging toward strip poker - but she had a delivery to make. Climbed the steps to the third floor, to personal chambers, a tray in hand. Mary Eunice's light bled from beneath her door at the end of the hall.

She passed the Monsignor's chambers on the way. His light was on as well. She tiptoed past. Knocked softly on Eunice's door. "Little Sister. It's me. I brought ya some dinner."

The door opened just a crack, and seeing that Jude was alone, Eunice let her in. "I'm sorry I ran earlier, Sister."

"It's fine." Jude set the tray on Eunice's desk. "I brought ya some soup. Shelley and Frank... helped me cook." She shook her head. "Like a mental patient and a bachelor. But...it's hard to keep good help these days."

Eunice lifted the lid on the soup tureen as if it was a holy relic. "Thank you, Sister. I - I can't remember the last time I ate something."

"Ya don't really have to anymore." Jude explained. She meandered to Eunice's modest bed and sat, leaving the chair for Eunice. "But I find I still enjoy food. It's comforting. Fills the soul, I guess."

Eunice tasted the soup with a shaking hand, tightly clutching the napkin in her lap. "Mmmmmm." Her eyes drifted shut. "Oh, Sister Jude...that feels so good."

Jude smiled. "Good. Eat. Does ya a world of good. And Eunice...I'm not Sister Jude, anymore." She gestured to the simple sundress and cotton flats she still wore. "As you can see. I'm Judy now. Or just Jude."

Eunice drank milk, wiped away the little moustache it left behind. "I don't know if I can ever call you that."

A shrug. "I don't suppose it matters. Call me whatevah ya like."

"I liked calling you Sister. Because...I'd never had a sister. And, I think you always treated me like one." She stirred soup thoughtfully. "Your little sister." She looked up. "Did you really love me?"

Jude felt a warmth spreading. It radiated from her chest down her arms. Tingled her fingertips. Maybe it was love. "Oh, yes, Mary Eunice. I - I suppose I should have said it. Instead of constantly terrifying you. Treating you like you were an idiot. I'm sorry for that."

"No, no, sister." Eunice insisted. "You tried to teach me. To make me tougher. To make me think. I needed that. If I'd had more of it, or listened more, maybe...maybe I could have fought harder for my own soul."

"You know, Eunice. I learned something about evil here at Briarcliff. Something I wish I could have known, told ya then. That no matter how strong ya are, it's always stronger. I was devastated when I knew the truth. When I knew that it had ya. I wish I could have..."

"You tried." Mary Eunice set aside her spoon. Came and sat beside Jude on her bed. "The Monsignor tried, too. Look what it won both of you." She looked down at her open palms on her lap. "When I think of what my hands have done, I want to cut them off."

Jude took one of the hands. The fingertips were calloused. She rubbed them. "What - what is this from, Eunice?"

"Beads. Prayers." Jude closed her eyes. The fingertips smoothed under her touch, warmed. Eunice gasped. "What did you..." Her wide eyes met Jude. "Like the touch of Christ."

"No," Jude replied firmly, quickly. "It's more like magic."

"Magic is a sin against God."

"Wrong word." Jude smiled. "Little miracles. Gifts, if ya will. From God himself."

"He chose you."

"No." Again, firm denial. "Shall I teach ya? I taught Shelley and Frank. You're chosen, too, Eunice." Wonder ensconced them. Eunice nodded. Jude thought a moment. "Close your eyes. Now, think of yar favorite color. Maybe...painting yar walls." She caught sight of the tattered rug. "Or a nice new rug. Brightening yar home up. Yeah?" Another nod, Eunice's eyes still closed. "Alright? Now. Open."

She supposed she shouldn't have been surprised that Mary Eunice would choose pink. It's just that...there was so much of it. Light pink walls. Bright pink rug. A fluffy pink bedspread. Fluttering pink curtains. Pink vases of pink roses here and there. Jude loosed a laugh. "Wow."

Eunice stood, taking in her surroundings, fingers covering her pleased and surprised gape. "I did this?"

"Yes. And you can do more. It's a way of...making your afterlife a little more bearable. A way of...forgiving yourself. Because the forgiveness of others is just as important as forgiving yourself, Eunice. Understand?"

"I understand." She was fingering a rose. "Beautiful," she murmured. When she returned to Jude, she tucked a blossom behind her older sister's ear. "You forgave yourself?"

"I did. I had to."

"And me."

"Because you needed me to."

"And the Monsignor?"

Jude winced. "I...forgave myself. For letting him hurt me in the ways he did."

"Perhaps you'll have the opportunity to forgive him now. Here." Eunice sat again, laid her head on Jude's bare shoulder.

"Perhaps." Jude whispered. She kissed Eunice's head. "Yar sleepy, little sistah."

"Mm-hm. I feel nice."

"Good." Jude rose. "Get some sleep. Some real sleep. It'll be good far ya."

"I guess so." Eunice agreed hesitantly. "Are you leaving, Sister?"

"Yes. To find some sleep of my own."

"You should avoid the corridors after dark. The Shadows get bolder."

"I'll be fine," Jude assured. "Not far to go."

"Don't underestimate them," Eunice warned. "They're powerful. Once, I found the Monsignor nearly dead. On the steps leading to the basement. He was...covered in soot and their hand prints." Jude stared down at Eunice, forehead creased. "I dragged him to the chapel and locked him inside. I was glad he didn't wake and see me."

"Eunice...the Monsignor. He understands, as well. Better than anyone. He has only forgiveness for you. He freed you, after all."

Eunice nodded. "Yes. But I ruined him."

"He ruined himself!" Jude snapped, then collected herself. Deep breath. "Nevah forget that." She resurrected a reassuring smile. "Maybe...maybe in the morning, you'll come down and have breakfast with us. In the kitchen. Me and Frank and Shelley. They wanna talk to ya. They wanna forgive ya, Eunice."

She teared up. "I don't know if I'm ready."

"Sleep on it." Jude said. "Pray on it." Eunice nodded. "Good night."

"Sister?" Jude paused at the door. "Thank you."

A soft smile. "Yar welcome."

In the corridor, Jude hesitated. There was a temptation to visit her own chambers. To see her office, her bedroom. The tiny bathroom. Maybe make it tolerable as Mary Eunice had made her own. Maybe have a nice, hot soak. The door handle was cold under her fingers, and suddenly, she wanted only the warmth of the kitchen again - of Frank and (even) Shelley's company. Perhaps they were still playing cards...and hopefully clothed.

She started back down the corridor, again quietly avoiding the Monsignor's quarters, when she sensed rather than saw motion. Behind her. She turned, but saw nothing. Odd...a chill slipped up her arms. She shivered, turned again to see blackness.

A moving wall of blackness, burned somewhat human forms surrounding her. The Shadows. "No," she whispered. Remembering Frank and Shelley's advice, she prepared to run - back to Eunice, away from these beings so dark and empty, their hollow eyes glowing red.

But they were behind her, too. Panic gripped her. Call me, Frank had said. She opened her mouth to scream, but found no voice available. An ashen hand gripped one arm, the other. They crackled with energy and her head filled with screams. She pulled free only to be clutched again, couldn't cover her ears and even if she could she had a feeling she would still hear them. She kicked at them only to feel her legs, her ankles gripped. Hard, hot hands all over her, clutching at her thighs even, her dress pulled and sullied with soot. The screaming. A tear of her dress and they were going to rip her apart next. Tear her skin, her bones, her soul. Weakness took her breath. Fingers tasting of cigarettes penetrated even her mouth, her neck bared to a choking ember grip. Rough across her breasts the fingers slid and she felt they were seeking her heart. The screaming overtook all, and silently she prayed they would simply end her because the misery was not worth living...

They were pulling her down, down and the voices had become a chorus, screams united but producing no sense.

Unser morder....gib ihn uns......wir wollen ihn....muss ihn verschlingen.....der kopf des todes

'I'm going to die here,' she thought. 'Die again. In this place. With my work unfinished.' She would have cried impotent, raging tears were it not for fiery hands covering her eyes, hot breath in her ears and suddenly -

Ashes scattered. The screams faded. She felt herself falling into very human arms, the hands guiding her to the ground gently, then lifting her as gently. Her skin burned, but this touch was cool salvation. "Frank..." she barely croaked. Her throat was on fire. She was being carried to safety...or the final end. Didn't matter. They were gone.

Jude gave herself to the weakness.

A rumpled, tattered pink rose came into view as the blur coalesced into focus. Beside a glass of water that beckoned sweet relief. She was in a bed, a pillow beneath her head. A blanket draped over her. She rose on one elbow, reaching for the water on the table. She was so weak she could barely bring herself to sit up. Dizzy as she looked around.

She didn't recognize these Spartan surroundings. But the water was cool and soothed her parched throat. She swallowed ash and grimaced. Putting the glass back, she saw her arms covered in red, irritable burns. Hand prints. She stretched a leg. There, too. Glanced down at her chest nearly bared by torn dress. More prints. She touched at them; no pain, thankfully, but a tightness that comes from squeezing too hard.

"The marks fade quickly."

Startled, she whipped too fast to face the voice and was rewarded with a dizzy spell. Gasped as a face took solid shape. "Monsignor."

He stood before his windows, the arches casting shadows on a gaunt, pallid face. He cowered as if afraid of her. And perhaps he was. "Sister Jude." His once honeyed tones were now cracking and hoarse.

Suddenly aware how much of her was exposed, she drew the blanket over her chest. She was in his bed, then. "You...saved me."

A broken nod. He gripped a rosary to his chest, priestly garb wretched and askew. His coat unbuttoned to white tee beneath. No collar. The tee shirt hung on an almost skeletal frame. "Finally," he whispered, looking away.

"Finally?" Jude repeated.

"I should have saved you long ago."

She didn't argue with him. In fact, she said nothing. Wasn't exactly certain what to say, anyway. He was so lost... She fought a strong temptation to go to him, to soothe him. Tried to remind herself she wasn't that woman any longer. That desperate, longing, aching, empty woman in love with this myopic, power-hungry, lying, hypocritical man... She self-dosed fresh anger. It helped.

She didn't want to be in his presence. Not yet. Maybe not ever. "Thank you," she whispered. She stood, steadied herself on the bedside table.

"Where are you going?"

"To my own chambers." A wave of dizziness washed quickly.

"Nonsense." He walked toward her, stopped at the foot of his bed. "They've weakened you significantly. Stay here, Sister."

"No, I'm fine." But two steps brought him to her side, catching her once again. A wash of something warm flooded her body inexplicably. She pushed against him. "I can walk."

"Sister -" He held her shoulders gently.

"Get your fucking hands off me!" She swung, knocking his elbows. He drew back sharply. "And don't you evah call me sistah again!" Tears clogged her sore throat. "You took that title from me. Along with everything else." Adrenaline kept her steady now. "Out of all the souls in this filthy abomination for me to save, yars deserves to be here the most." She had to brace her fingertips against the wall, but made it to his door.

"Jude." He called, voice only a touch more firm now. "I don't deserve your forgiveness. I won't ask for it. But the others..."

"I'm already on it, Fathah." She assured, forehead pressed briefly to his door as she took the handle. She had to get away...wasn't nearly ready for this. She managed to open the door.

"Jude. There are things I must say to you."

"Say them to that urn with my name on it." She spat.

"Jude!"

She closed the door. Staggered into the corridor pressed against the wall. She lunged toward her old chambers. Away from Shadows. Away from Timothy Howard. Away from the terrifying tingle in her shoulders where he'd touched her. Away from the bitter long-abiding weakness of what she once called love.

Her office was as she remembered it, though she was too weak, too emotionally drained to take real notice. She made it into her old chambers. Also the same. Bleak. Sparse. Dark. She collapsed on the tiny bed. Curled fetally and let sobs wrack her body.

She woke cold. Had not even covered herself the night before. Grey sunlight crept in the slender window. She let the night come flooding back, sat up to gauge the severity of the hand prints on her body. They did seem to be fading.

She still felt a touch weak. Breakfast would be good. She looked down at her torn dress and frowned. Drew a hot bath in the claw foot tub. A blink produced some lovely bubbles. She washed her hair with minty shampoo. Felt clean again.

Today was a good day for...green. The dress' skirt had a bit of a whirl to it and she liked that. Soft shoes and she pulled her wet hair into a sloppy bun. No frills today.

She peeked into the common room, found it empty. Heard voices in the kitchen and bounced down the steps. "Well, look who's bright eyed and bushy tailed this morning," Shelley smirked. "Nice dress."

Jude squinted. "Yours, too." They'd both opted for green. Frank was at the stove...doing something. Shelley was smearing butter onto a pan of scones. "Did you two...cook?"

"I made these scones. Frank burned the eggs. So now he's doing them again."

"Shhh!" Frank turned violently from the stove. "You said you wasn't gonna say nothin'!"

Jude eased over to him. "Let me, Frank. You rustle us up some orange juice or somethin', huh?"

"Thanks, Jude." He handed over his spatula, which Jude tossed into the sink. She could flip an egg like a ref flipped a coin. "Who wants over easy?"

"Me!" Frank and Shelley chorused.

"Comin' up." Jude flipped one and spun, catching it precisely to applause. She was sliding eggs onto Shelley's plate when movement in the doorway caught her eye. She smiled. "Good morning, Mary Eunice. How do ya like yar eggs?"

Shelley and Frank turned to the little sister, as well. Jude stepped away from the table, a smile belying her nervousness. Mary Eunice tried a smile, too, but the heaviness was already threatening to bring tears. "Scrambled," she said softly.

"Scrambled. Good." Jude turned away. Heard a chair squelch across the tile.

"Have a seat, little sista." Frank. "We're glad to see ya this mornin'."

Eunice sat slowly. That little smile quivering. "Thank you, Frank."

Shelley cleared her throat. (Jude tensed, whisk slowing.) "You...you look nice today, Sister." Shelley's first major attempt at kindness. (Jude resumed whisking.)

"Thank you, Shelley."

Jude heard, rather than saw, the smile break. The first sob escaped and she turned from the stove, hands on Eunice's shoulders. "Frank. Shelley. I'm - I'm so so sorry!" Eunice's head bowed.

"Aww, little sister, come on," Frank cajoled. "I know you bettah than that. I knew somethin' wasn't right with ya. I forgive ya if it makes ya feel bettah, but you know...it wasn't you doin' all them bad things."

Eunice sobbed a little harder. Jude rubbed the heaving shoulders. Shelley rolled her eyes, but chimed in her own Shelley-style forgiveness. "Yeah. Demons are just...real fuckers, Sister. And you must have had a really bad one. Cuz I always thought you were the nicest nun here."

It didn't really help.

Jude made a face at Shelley. Shelley made one back. "What?" She hissed. Jude looked reproachful, and Shelley tried again. "Point is. You know...I forgive you, too. For dumping me in the woods. You were just...doing demon things."

Frank looked pained. Came to Shelley's assistance. "Shelley's just tryna say she knows you wasn't right, too, Mary Eunice. But hey. She still forgives ya, too, right Shelley?"

"That's what I said!" Shelley yelled. "She's not deaf, ya know."

Eunice's sobs reduced to sniffles. Jude gave a final pat and retrieved Eunice's eggs. She was sliding them onto the plate when Shelley grabbed her arm. "What the hell, Judy?"

They all looked. Jude couldn't withdraw her arm. Eunice suddenly stared up at her. "Sister!" Fear in her eyes. And recognition.

"It's fine, Mary Eunice."

"What happened?" Shelley asked, finally releasing her grip.

"I um...I had a little run-in with our shadowy friends last night."

"A little run-in?!" Frank gestured to her arm. "That looks pretty serious. Judy, I told ya ta call me!"

"I tried to, Frank."

"Why didn't you run?" Shelley asked.

"They were all around me." Jude sat. "They grabbed me. I couldn't move. Could barely think." She steepled her fingers. "These things...are a problem."

"Where were ya?" Frank asked. "I walked all the halls last night except the basement."

"You didn't go to the basement, Sister?!" Eunice demanded.

"I was on the third floor." Jude replied firmly. "I'd just left yar room, Eunice. And don't say 'I told ya so.'"

"How did you get away from 'em?" Frank asked.

Jude purposefully took a bite of her eggs. Chewed while they all stared at her, waiting. "The Monsignor...saved me."

"Saved you?" Eunice's eyes glistened. "How?"

"I don't really know how." Jude shrugged. "I felt somebody grab me and carry me and...I woke up safe and sound."

"Woke up where?" Frank needed details. The others just waited like lackeys.

"In his bed," she answered, looking at her plate.

"The Monsignor's bed?!" Shelley, of course. "Are you sure those marks aren't -"

Jude leveled her fork at Shelley. "Don't."

Eunice wore an expression of wonder. "It must have taken great strength to save you. With that many of them, and you being as strong as you are, Sister. They must have been very powerful last night. I'm glad the Monsignor is finding his strength again."

"Aren't we all?" Jude gestured. "Pass the juice, please."

"What are we gonna do about these things?" Shelley asked. "I feel like they're getting worse."

"I'm going to look into it some today. I - I heard some of what they were saying last night. I think it was German."

"German?" Frank huffed. "Damn immigrants."

"Jesus, Frank." Shelley admonished. "Way to be progressive."

"Sister, these eggs are wonderful."

"Thank you, Eunice." Jude sighed relief that the subject was dropped. For now.

After breakfast, Jude left the others in the common room. Eunice seemed comfortable now, or at least moreso, with Frank and Shelley. And she certainly was enjoying playing the blinking game with the jukebox. So Jude sneaked away to the library on the second floor.

It was in as great a disarray as it always was. But the reference section was relatively untouched. She scanned dictionary spines until she found a German one. Snatched it and made haste back to the common room. There was safety in numbers.

It didn't take long for her to find what she was looking for. Her German was non-existent, but she managed to piece things together phonetically, jotting down translations on a blank page in the dictionary. Her light bulb was bright, sudden and terrifying. She was staring at the page in disbelief when Eunice plopped down beside her on the couch. A cloud of dust rose. "What do you have there, Sister?"

She wasn't ready to reveal her suspicion yet. Wasn't ready to begin that particular path of worry. In fact, she needed to have a word with her least favorite person. Soon. So she gave Eunice a dismissive smile. "Just trying to figure out what our shadow friends might be telling us."

"In German?"

"It was a thought."

"Hm." Eunice blinked another pink rose and slipped it over Jude's ear. "These are pretty on you."

Jude laughed. "On Shelley, too, I see." Shelley was decked in a wreath of the lovely flowers, leading Frank on a conga line to Little Eva's The Locomotion.

"Pink roses mean compassion," Mary Eunice said. "I read it in a book I have on flowers. Did you know you can basically communicate using flowers?"

"I didn't know that." Jude smiled. It seemed she was learning something new about her little sister all the time. "What about red roses? Those are my favorites. They're for love, right?"

"Yes. Different colors have different meanings." She ticked them off on her fingers. "Red is love, actually. Pink is sweetness, compassion or...admiration. Yellow is for happiness. White is for apology."

"Where did you get this fabulously informative book, Mary Eunice?"

"My first Christmas here, the Monsignor gave it to me. He knew that I was trying to grow roses in the old greenhouse before they tore it down. He likes flowers, too. I think we were both sad to see that greenhouse go."

Jude's jaw tightened at the mention of Timothy Howard. Her nostrils flared slightly. She tried to keep her temper reigned. "I didn't know the Monsignor was so fond of flowers."

"Was he...well? When you saw him last night?"

Her compassion knew no bounds, the little nun. Jude knew she'd wanted to ask after the priest this whole time. "He seemed...well enough." He'd been a ghost, honestly, but Jude had a difficult time generating sympathy. Didn't she?

"I know he betrayed you." Eunice whispered. "I know because the - the demon wanted it. It was...jealous of you."

"Jealous of me? Whatevah for?"

"It saw you as a threat. It knew he listened to you. Trusted you. It knew that he..."

"He what, Eunice?"

"He fought impure thoughts." She spoke so quietly now. "He...loved you."

Jude scoffed, but her heart beat like a timpani drum. "He loved himself."

Eunice shook her head. "It knew that if it broke you, it could break him. You were his strength." Her eyes closed tightly. "The night I - " She shook her head sharply. "The night it...took his virtue...I wore your slip. The red slip." Jude's sharp intake of breath spilled a tear from Eunice's eye. "It knew his weakness. It knew his mind would...turn to you. It knew...that it could make him...hate you for his own weakness."

Jude shook. Her jaw clenched and her lips threatened tremble. To know that Mary Eunice had been powerless against such evil...and that the evil had known so much. But more than that to know - to learn after all this time - that she had not wanted alone? It was too much to bear and she rose, stroking Eunice's arm. "Little sister. Ya stood against the devil. And it may not feel like it, but ya won." She pulled Mary's chin up to meet her eyes. "You've a grace now that can't be defeated, Eunice. Strong like the archangel. With a sword of fire. Don't forget it."

"Judy!" Shelley called. "Come show us that swing move again!"

Jude shot her a half-hearted grin. "Back in a minute, Shelley."

The Monsignor's chamber door was open. He was not there, but a flash of color caught Jude's eye. There in the windowsill behind his bed was the tattered pink rose from her hair last night, kept in a glass tumbler. She swallowed hard and headed for the chapel.

He knelt inside, penitent before the cross, the curve of his shoulders suggesting he spent most of his time this way. She felt no compunction interrupting his prayers. In fact, she knelt beside him, let her shoulder brush his, ignored the thrill it delivered.

He startled at her presence, eyes struggling for a moment to comprehend her presence. "Jude."

"Fathah. I need some information."

"Of - of course."

"Where's Dr. Arden?"

He blinked rapidly. "His soul, you mean? I - I've no idea, Jude."

She squinted at him, sussing lies. "I think he's here."

"Surely we would know if he was."

"I think you do know."

The muscles in his face twitched. "Are you accusing me -"

"Ya covered far him before. Didn't ya? When ya murdered Shelley? When ya put me away? What would stop ya from doing it now, in death?"

The fist clenching his rosary clenched a little harder. "I made mistakes, Jude."

"Ya lied, Timothy!"

"I was guilty!" His raspy voice could only rise so far. "I was a sinner of greed, ambition. Yes, I was corrupt! I was no man of faith. I died by my own hand, corrupt and damned. And here I languish to atone for my wasted, pitiful life. What possible reason would I have for hiding a man who blackmailed me and drove me to even greater depths of debasement?"

His sunken eyes belied no fiction. And Jude felt none. She nodded. "Good enough." Made to rise.

But his cold hand caught hers. She tore her fingers from his, cradling them as if burned. "Don't touch me!"

He stood quickly, frightening for a man in his decline. "Why do you think he's here?" He stepped toward her and she felt the kneeler at her calves.

"I heard the shadows in my head last night. I made out a few words. German words." She attempted to creep along the kneeler toward the door, but he backed her against the altar, still not touching her.

"What did they say?" Her shaking hand withdrew the dictionary from her dress pocket. She opened it and offered him the page. Watched him scan her neat handwriting. "Give him to us...we want to devour him...our torturer...the death's head -" His eyes clipped back to hers. "Death's head."

"He was SS." Jude reminded. "But you knew that."

Timothy's lip curled. "Must everything you say be an accusation? A reminder?"

"Yes," she spat. "I had my peace. And now I'm back here for what? To create peace for you?" She scoffed. "I wouldn't know where to start."

"Jude, please..." He bowed his head. Fingers still working the beads unconsciously. His eyes wet. There was no fight in this man.

Jude sighed. "Mary Eunice told me she found ya one night. Near dead on the steps leading up from the basement. I figured you were on your way up from a bachelor's evenin' with your Nazi friend."

"Mary Eunice..."

"Why were ya going to the basement, Fathah?"

"I don't know if I can explain."

"Try."

"I...sensed something there. Something...dark, perhaps. I was afraid of it, and yet compelled to go to it. I took a vial of holy water. I had blessed all of the firmaments but that one, and I thought perhaps I could...vanquish whatever lingered there. But..."

"Holy water cannot help you now," Jude said. "And those things found you?"

"The door. I couldn't open it."

"Locked?"

"No. More than locked. Some sort of...barrier. Invisible to the eye." He closed his eyes, remembering. "I was on my way back up when, yes. Those things captured me. Like they captured you." He looked back to Jude. "You said...Mary Eunice found me?"

"Yeah. Dragged you here. Better person than I am, right? I woulda left ya there ta rot, let those fucking things make ya their bitch." She slipped snake-like past him, headed to the door.

"No, you wouldn't, Jude."

Ignore it, Judy, her brain said. But her mouth said something else (typical): "Mary Eunice is truly a wealth of goodness, Fathah. And information. I hope you and the devil enjoyed my red slip. It was always meant far you, anyway." Her hand was on the doorknob and predictably he grabbed her elbow. Couldn't see the expression of unadulterated challenge light her face. "I told ya not ta touch me," she growled.

"Don't run away from me." He met her intensity. "I told you I would never ask for your forgiveness, Jude. But I will ask that you...please...do not add to my torture in this dismal afterlife."

"Add to yar torture?" She laughed, real deep genuine feel good laughter. In his skeletal face. "That's rich, Timothy. Ya torture yourself. That's why yar here!" She looked to his hand still on her arm, still gripping. Ignored that damnable tingle. "You made the wrong allies, Cardinal. I woulda worshipped ya all the way to Rome, just like ya said. Ya had a real rare bird that wanted ta sing ya hymns. And now yar eating crow. Because ya had the wrong ambitions. Ya trusted a death dealer with my life, and a demon with yar virtue. And this is what ya get. We craft our own afterlives when we see what we truly are. I'm glad yar blind, and that I have the ability to do this:"

She blinked, snapped her fingers, and the arm he gripped was bare and she pressed against his door in the red silk slip. He nearly choked and she felt a swell of power. Pushed against him until he stepped away - staggered away. She stroked her fingers swiftly up her thighs, revealing garters for only a second, and a flourish of her arms. "See Mary Eunice told me some other things. I'll let ya ponder those yarself. Suffice it to say, I made mistakes, too, Fathah. I believed you were a man of god. But ya were just a man - like all the rest of 'em. And I was just a woman; yearning flesh and hot blood and so stupid and blind in love that I woulda let ya be both - a man and a man of god." It was her turn to back him against the altar. She slid the rosary from his hand, hung it around her own neck and crossed herself as he sat on the kneeler cushion, quaking. She stood over him. "My beloved, love me, since you have been much loved by me, much more than you love me. And after I have laid myself in you, now lay yourself in me. And I felt..." She crouched, animal-like, stroked the insides of her thighs. "An ineffable divine sweetness." His hand made to reach for her, as though he could not resist the reaching, and she stood swiftly. "I was yar creature, Timothy."

This time, he didn't chase her. In the open door, she turned. "But then, it was always only about you, wasn't it? And now, yar creature is free."

Outside in the chapel she leaned against the wall. The rush of power was great. The purge of anger even better. But just being in his presence still left her feeling inexplicably sad. Weak, to hate him so and yet want to throw her arms around him. To punch him in the face and then kiss his bruises. To slap him so hard his soul hurt and then fuck his soul just to see if it felt as good as she imagined soul-fucking would feel...

She shook the emotions. Took a deep breath. Blinked back into her green dress, and headed for the common room.

Her three compatriots were playing Monopoly when she entered. "Frank, I thought you were the dog!" Shelley complained. "You keep moving my iron."

"I am the iron, Shelley!" Frank defended. "Remember? Cuz Ironsides?"

"I'm the dog." Eunice picked up the piece in question. "Ruff, ruff!"

"Oh." Shelley looked back to the board. "Why did I pick the stupid hat?"

"Because yar an asshat." Jude supplied, straddling a chair at the table. "I need to call a meeting. Far some important shit." Shelley handed her a cigarette. Important shit required cigarettes. "I've done a little research into these...shadows. And I have an idea what's up."

"What are they?" Eunice asked.

"I still don't know that, exactly." Jude pointed at her. "But I think I might know why they're here. Or who they're here for."

"Who?"

She exhaled a plume of smoke. "Dr. Arden. Or Hans Gruper. Same thing."

Shelley drew up. Jude could feel her anger swelling. "Dr. Frankenstein is here?!"

"I suspect so."

Frank was shaking his head. "I've never seen him here."

"D'ya ever go in the basement, Frank?"

"Tried to once. The door won't open."

"You've got every key to Briarcliff, Frank."

"That's just it, Judy. The key wouldn't open it. I figure it's stuck fer good."

"I'll open it right now." Shelley stood, shaking angry. "Drag that fucker out like the trash and chop his legs off."

"Sit down!" Jude snapped. "Don't be stupid. If he's down there, like I think, he's got some kind of power figured out. Like ours, but darker. Strong. He's barricaded himself good and tight."

"So how do we get in?" Frank asked.

"I dunno yet." Jude leaned on her palm. "I'm gonna have to figure something out. Pass me the boot so I can commence kicking your asses at this game."

Truthfully, she worried. Deeply. If these shadows were getting worse as Shelley believed, then perhaps Arden was getting worse, too. If it was indeed Arden, which her gut told her it was. And her gut hadn't been wrong. She had a nose for rodents, after all. So...hand over Arden to the shadows? Seemed to be what they wanted. But how to get to the Nazi bastard? She needed help, but who could help her now? The Monsignor? She doubted it. She'd scalded him pretty successfully earlier...

She supposed she could pray, but...that hadn't ever done her much good in the past.

No, she was on her own here. She'd simply have to think harder. And she'd have to go to that basement.

Over dinner, Frank decided that from now on, they would travel in pairs. He and Shelley had become unlikely neighbors, transforming the old security office into a homey little duplex. And Jude and Eunice would walk to their chambers together at night, watching each other enter and lock up. It was the best way to prevent further attacks as severe as Jude's.

That night, Jude watched Eunice's eyes linger on the light under the Monsignor's door. Neither said a thing, and if the little nun sensed anything untoward in her older sister, she didn't mention it. Jude kissed her head goodnight, and they safely shut themselves away for the night.

In her chambers again, Jude redecorated. She missed her cabin in the woods dearly. Its warmth and coziness. So: a stone fireplace, crackling. A feather bed, much bigger. Puffy chair. She wished she could have a porch and birds, but...pictures of birds would do. And bourbon. A yellow ottoman for her feet and she lounged, sipping, not thinking of anything, stroking the lush lace and soft silk gown she'd crafted - the color and smell of lavender. Music would be nice. A blue radio and...Dusty Springfield, very low, a lullabye.

When I said I needed you

You said you would always stay

It wasn't me who changed but you and now you've gone away

The bourbon was working its magic. Her eyelids were heavy with it. The knock definitely surprised her. Mary Eunice? She rushed to open the door, loath to leave anyone open to a possible attack.

Don't you see that now you've gone

And I'm left here on my own

That I have to follow you and beg you to come home

You don't have to say you love me just be close at hand

You don't have to stay forever I will understand

But "Timothy!" She was beyond surprised. That he would have the audacity - the strength even - left to show her his face.

Believe me, believe me I can't help but love you

But believe me I'll never tie you down

"Jude." Not only did he have the audacity, but he looked more determined than she'd ever seen him. "May I...come in?"

"No."

"Then I'll stand here in the hall to say what I have to say. And you will listen."

Left alone with just a memory

Life seems dead and quite unreal

All that's left is loneliness there's nothing left to feel

"Oh, hell." She grabbed his hand and pulled him inside, pleased to see that rosary gone. She didn't want to have the shadows at her threshold. "What?"

You don't have to say you love me just be close at hand

You don't have to stay forever

I will understand believe me, believe me

"I know already what you are thinking." He was purposely ignoring her sleeping attire, and so was she. "But you absolutely must not go to that basement. At least not alone."

"Oh, you know me so well." She scoffed, turning from him.

"I know that you are headstrong, and unafraid of anything." He reached for her shoulders and just this time - she let him turn her to face him. "But Jude...those things are...indescribably powerful."

You don't have to say you love me just be close at hand

You don't have to stay forever

I will understand, believe me, believe me

"What are they gonna do, Timothy? Kill me?" She took his hands from her shoulders, gently, though. Something emanated from his fingertips - something that terrified her and tempted her. "I have nothing to lose here."

"Don't think that way." He seemed pained. "I don't know exactly what I'm doing here, Jude, and not in hell, but I assure you...when they attacked me it felt worse than dying did."

"Huh." She meandered back to her chair. Propped her feet, enjoyed his uncomfortable glance away from her long bare legs. "Sit down, Fathah. I'm feelin'...civil now." A blink, and a similar chair appeared for him across from her.

"I - I shouldn't." But he vacillated deliciously.

She blinked. The little radio obeyed.

You could be my silver springs

Blue green colors flashin'

I would be your only dream

Your shining autumn, ocean crashing

"Scared I'll bite?" She asked. Lit a cigarette.

"You're...indecent." He gestured to her state of undress.

And did you say she was pretty

And did you say that she loves you

Baby, I don't wanna know

"Aren't we all, Fathah? Go on. Sit. Get comfy. I have a feelin' you didn't come here to drop an empty warning far my safety."

I'll begin not to love you

Turn around, see me runnin'

I'll say I loved you years ago

Still reluctantly, frightened, he sat. She shifted her ottoman toward him, willing to share. She blinked an ashtray. Propped it on her raised knee. "Now. What's on yar mind. I'm in a most tolerant mood at the moment."

He gestured to the ashtray. "How do you do that, Jude? What is this power you have?"

Tell myself you never loved me, no

And did you say she was pretty

And did you say that she loves you

Baby, I don't wanna know

She rolled her eyes. "Power. Is that how you see it? Is it all about power far you?"

"I might call it an abomination, instead, if you prefer."

"Idiot," she spat. "It's a gift. From yar own God, if he truly exists. You can do it, too." It was lesson time for Timothy. "Go on. Try it. Imagine what you want and close yar eyes."

And can you tell me was it worth it

Really, I don't wanna know

He appeared at a loss. She leaned toward him, knowing she gave him a fantastic view into ample cleavage. "You said I was indecent. Close your eyes, and dress me how you'd have me."

Perhaps suspecting some trickery, he closed his eyes. It almost seemed as though he prayed. Jude tilted her head back, expecting to be enveloped in habit. But when she leaned forward, she found his eyes open, staring, and herself in her red slip.

Her heart felt victorious. She hoped she hid it. "Well, well, well. Interesting choice, Monsignor."

"Don't call me that anymore," he whispered. Leaned into the plush cushion. "Surely, as you claimed, Mary Eunice told you that the demon ferreted out my greatest shame. My weakness?"

Time casts a spell on you, but you won't forget me

I know I could have loved you, but you would not let me

I'll follow you down 'til the sound of my voice will haunt you

You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you

"I coulda been yar greatest strength, if you'd let me." She stretched her foot to his armrest. Curled her toes over it.

"I could taste your very desire, Jude."

"And I could control it."

"Perhaps I could not." He stroked the edge of her foot. She couldn't have prevented the thrill that zinged her entire body if she'd wanted to. "It was delicious. Addictive. I was selfish out of fear, Jude. I had to...remove you from my...temptation."

I'll follow you down 'til the sound of my voice will haunt you

(give me just a chance)

You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you

"And if you'd given in?"

"I would have lost everything."

She removed her foot from his lingering finger. "Ya did lose everything."

"Tell me what to do, then, Jude. Give me your counsel now."

She took a final drag off her cigarette. Stamped it out in the ashtray. "Come to breakfast tomorrow morning. In the kitchen. Face yar demons. I'm only one of 'em. And I promise you this: the others will be much easier to defeat than me."

He accepted her advice with a solemn nod. "Very well."

"Now." She dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "Get out of my sight."

He rose. "You will return the favour with my counsel, will you not? Don't go to that basement. And if you must, come to me, first."

She shrugged. "Fine."

You could be my silver springs

My blue green colors flashin'

"Stubborn," he muttered at her door.

"Timothy?"

"Yes?"

She stroked a bare foot up a bare leg, entirely for his benefit. It colored his cheeks. "Sleep tight."