Just as every cop is a criminal
And all the sinners saints
As heads is tails
Just call me Lucifer
'Cause I'm in need of some restraintSo if you meet me
Have some courtesy
Have some sympathy, and some taste
Use all your well-learned politeness
Or I'll lay your soul to wastePleased to meet you
Hope you guessed my name
But what's puzzling you
Is the nature of my game…- Rolling Stones
September, 1902
He never remembered the actual act of returning to consciousness. One dark moment, there was nothing - the next, vague, floating images that he recognized as scenes from his life. A dirty tenement in South Brooklyn, not far from the docks where he'd spent his childhood, afternoons spent running from the bigger kids, throwing rocks, tormenting the smaller and weaker. Ah, dose were da days! His family, Berto's pug face, scrunched into a perpetual scowl, even as a youngster - Elena, sullen, but with the blazing promise of beauty - he saw her again, a grown woman, still sullen, but with that promise fulfilled - the faces of his parents, hazy now after all these years, his mother, with her coal black hair and pale skin always mottled with bruises, and his father, whose face was haziest of all, perhaps because he wanted to forget the man he hated almost as much as he hated -
Brooklyn. His home, his territory.
He could feel the sun on his face, hear the splash of water off the piers, the shouts of the kids as they played and fought. Mostly, he could see her - all green eyes and fiery hair, and that had been that. Until, until -
With a mental roar, he was awake, eyes open, hate bursting from every pore in his abused body. Struggling, he tried to rise, but nothing worked, he couldn't move.
Maggie. Maggie's dead.
She couldn't be, no, that was impossible. Maggie didn't die. Not until he killed her himself. That privilege - that power - was reserved for him alone; she could not have been taken from him -
He took a breath, the rush of hate and pain fading to a deep, hard simmer. He was hurt, obviously. He was too weak to so much as raise a finger. Struggling with his hazy, misty mind, he tried to remember. The townhouse, no - after that - Maggie was there, then she wasn't - escaped - McIntyre - had he killed him? He couldn't remember. Then what? The rooftop - O'Malley - he remembered now. They'd fought.
O'Malley did dis ta me?
The thought was almost amused. Guess 'e had it in 'im afta all. The amusement faded directly on the heels of the reminder of why O'Malley was able to do this at all.
Maggie's dead.
McIntyre killed her. That's what Danielle had said. She'd escaped from him, and walked straight into the arms of a man even worse than himself. It could almost be funny, if it hadn't been Maggie.
"Oh, my goodness, you're awake!" the gasp broke into his thoughts, and it was a struggle to focus on the young nun as she rushed away, presumably to get a doctor. Yes, I'm awake, he thought bitterly, slipping back towards oblivion. Watch out, world.
* * *
"Elena?"
Mercy jumped a mile, letting out a small shriek at the voice. It can't be - 'e's in a goddamned coma! Spinning around, she stared in horror as the shadow stepped into the light, and her brother smiled at her slightly. If she hadn't been so stunned to see him, she would have noticed right away the strangeness of that smile, without its mocking, evil qualities. It looked almost sad and tired.
Sputtering, she cursed, scrambling a step back, away from him. "Whatta ya want?" she demanded harshly. It was barely past sundown, there were still people on the street, he couldn't kill her now.
"Please - I'm not gonna hurt ya," this apparition with Luke's voice and face said, and Mercy blinked, startled by the quiet - was that gentleness?! - tone of his voice.
"What - how - you was in a coma," she stammered out, taking another step back. Luke nodded slowly. His cuts and bruises were fading; the nurse at the hospital had once told her that he actually hadn't been badly injured in the fall, except for the trauma to his head that caused his coma. The broken arm was on the mend, obviously, not even in a sling anymore.
"I woke up," he replied simply. Swallowing audibly, he looked her over. "You look so much like Mama," he commented unexpectedly, almost - fondly? - and Mercy goggled.
"What're ya tryin' ta pull?" she snapped, narrowing her eyes.
Luke shook his head slowly. "Dis was a mistake," he said softly, almost mournfully. "I knew ya wouldn't wanna see me, but - yer da only fam'ly I got anymore."
Mercy glared at him. "Cut da crap an' tell me what ya want," she nearly growled. Luke looked away, the perfect picture of tragedy.
"I don't want anythin', Elena," he replied, still so softly. "I'm staying at the St. Mary’s mission, I jus' wanted ta see you."
"Why?" she snapped. "Gonna kill me now?"
Luke flinched. Visibly flinched. "I've hurt ya before, ain't I?" he asked, almost to himself. "I don't remember - I'm sorry."
What the hell?
"Yer tryin' ta tell me ya don't remember?" Mercy blurted out. “You have gotta be shittin' me! Dis is da stupidest scam ya's ever tried ta pull!"
Luke winced. "I remember some things," he replied, and brought his eyes to hers. "Not everythin', dere's a lot I don't. Sistah Marguerite says dere's a lot me mind doesn't wanna remember."
She gaped. This was insane. "Ya can't expect me ta believe dis!" she nearly shouted. Luke shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets. The slump of his shoulders was pathetic, hopeless.
"Of course not," he agreed softly. "I gets a sick feelin' in me stomach when I tries ta remember, an' dat makes me pretty shoah I don't wanna remember."
"You were a monster," Mercy snapped brutally. "Ya killed people. Ya tortured Maggie fer fun, ya committed crimes an' ya did it 'cause ya liked it, so don't stand dere an' expect me ta believe dat ya don't remember it!” Turning on her heel, she started to stalk away. Abruptly, she turned back. "An' 'specially don't expect me ta believe dat bein' in a coma changed ya somehow! 'Cause dat ain't possible!"
Luke didn't answer; his gaze was fixed on the cobblestones at her feet, and the expression on his face made her stop for a moment and stare at him. He looked so - lost? - sad and alone, so forlorn, as if this could possibly be true . . . ?
Mercy shook herself. There were things in this world that would never happen. Lucian Marcus Forlani awakening from a coma with a conscience and no memory of his crimes was right at the top of her list. It couldn't happen, he was insane for even trying to make her believe it! More so, she was even more insane than he for even considering there might be so much as a miniscule spec of reality to it.
"I'm sorry, Elena," he said again, raising his eyes to meet hers. Mercy scowled, searching those night-like depths for some kind of truth. "Fer everythin' I evah did, whether I remember it er not."
"Shuddap, bastard," she hissed, unnerved. "Ya ain't foolin' me, an' don't even think a' tryin' dis scam on Maggie, she won't buy it neither-"
"Maggie?" he repeated, cutting her off in a whisper, an expression crossing his face that Mercy had never seen before, at least never on his face. "Maggie's alive?"
Shit!
Cursing under her breath, Mercy tried to backtrack. He must not have seen Ruby that night on the roof; he still thought she had been murdered. "Ah-" she floundered trying to think of a way to cover her blunder. Luke stepped forward and caught her arm, not roughly, amazingly almost gently, but still with urgency.
"Is Maggie alive? I don't remember - I thought she was dead - someone tol' me she was dead," he frowned, his expression turned inwards, as if - as if he were struggling to remember something.
"No! I didn't - I mean-" Mercy kicked herself, mentally. Looking down at his hand on her arm, a sharp prickle of unease darted down her spine.
"Elena, please, jus' tell me if she's alive," Luke pleaded, and she gaped at him. "I won't try ta see 'er - I couldn't face 'er anyway - I jus' - I need to know she's aw right." Was there artifice in his eyes? She couldn't tell, how could she not tell?
"She's alive," she snapped, shaking out of his grip. "But stay away from 'er."
Luke's hand dropped to his side, and he slouched back against the wall behind him, closing his eyes. "She's alive," he repeated softly. "T'ank God."
Mercy stared at him, feeling as though she'd overslept somehow and was stuck in some kind of very bizarre dream. "Don't you even pretend ta care!" she hissed, taking a threatening step towards him. Luke looked up, his expression a hazy mess of emotions that Mercy would swear on a stack of bibles that her brother had never felt in his entire twenty-one years of life. The intensity of his look, be it feigned or genuine, shook her. Opening and closing her mouth, she gaped at him, then with a muttered curse, she spun on her heel and rushed away.
Four Eyes would be so upset if he knew where she was right now, Ruby reflected as she fidgeted uncomfortably, waiting for the nurse behind the counter to finish speaking to a doctor. He wouldn't have wanted her to come here, but she'd felt compelled. She'd been unable to make the trek for almost two months, and so much could have happened in that time. Luke could have died, or woken up, or…. anything, really. And she had to know. She had to.
"Yes, dear?" the young nun finally turned her attention to her and smiled. Ruby returned it somewhat tremulously.
"I'd like to see Luke Forlani please," she said, the name sticking in her throat and coming out on a hoarse croak. The nun blinked at her for a split second, then dropped her eyes to the list she held.
Oh, I - " she faltered, and Ruby's heart skipped a beat.
What? What's happened?
The nun frowned deeply at her list, then looked up but she didn't quite meet Ruby's gaze. "This way please," she murmured, and herded the red haired girl towards a different ward then the one Luke had been in before. Ruby followed, feeling sick to her stomach. She didn't want to pray for someone's death, but she couldn't bear the alternative - that he was awake and alive and it was all beginning again -
"Here you are, miss," the young nun's voice seemed oddly strained, but Ruby barely noticed as she stepped up to the cot.
She opened her mouth to thank the nurse - and stopped dead
"That's not him," she blurted out, staring in astonishment at the man in the hospital bed. It certainly wasn't Luke, by any stretch of the imagination, but a middle aged, balding man with thick features and a bulbous nose. She looked frantically at the nurse, who had gone nearly as white as Ruby herself.
"Of - of course it is," she protested, holding out the list. "It's all right here - Lucian Marcus Forlani, aged 41, comatose from multiple head trauma," she pointed at the paper, then at the number imprinted on the metal frame of the cot. "Patient number 699." She looked ready to cry.
"That's not him!" Ruby repeated, stricken. "What the hell is goin' on here?" she demanded, grabbing the nun's arm. "Did 'e wake up? Did 'e die? What happened? Where is 'e?"
The nun flinched away from her. "I don't know!" she nearly wailed. "That's him, our paperwork can't be wrong!"
"It is wrong! That's not him! I should know!" Ruby snapped.
"What is going on here, Agnes?" an authoritative voice demanded, and an older nun with a severe face beneath her wimple joined them. The first nun, Sister Agnes, was trembling on the verge of tears.
"She says this patient isn't who he's supposed to be," she replied. She still couldn't look Ruby in the eye.
"That's impossible," the other nun snorted, taking the paper from the girl and frowning at it.
"Lucian Forlani, patient number 699. That's him." She turned a cold gaze on Ruby, who was close to hysterics. "Calm yourself, child. I understand it's disturbing to see a loved one in such a state, but that doesn't mean it isn't him."
Ruby began to giggle. "He's out, isn't he? He woke up an' he got out somehow. Oh God." Putting her hands to her face, she began to cry.
The young nun looked horrified, the elder nun just looked disgusted. "Young lady," she put a hand on Ruby's arm, but the girl shook her off.
"I can't believe - " she broke off, casting a horrified look at the two women. "Oh, God," she whispered, and backed away. Turning, she broke into a full fledged run.
It wasn't over.
"He's out," Ruby blurted without preamble, grabbing Mercy by the arms. The other girl nodded grimly.
"I know," she muttered, hustling Ruby over to a bench to sit down. The little red head was on the verge of hysterics, and Mercy didn't think what she had to tell her was going to help any.
"I have to get to the Bronx," Ruby was standing up almost as soon as she'd sat down. "What if 'e goes after Four Eyes? Elena - I can't do this again!"
"I don't think 'e will," Mercy mumbled, picking at her fingernail. "At least not yet."
"Of course 'e will," Ruby argued desperately. "Oh, God, I have to warn Four Eyes - "
"Maggie, siddown," Mercy snapped, and Ruby blinked, startled into obeying. She did as she was told and sat back down, staring at her friend with huge, scared green eyes. "'E's up to sumthin'," Mercy sighed, scowling at the hangnail on her thumb. "I saw 'im."
"You saw 'im?" Ruby gasped, grabbing the other girl's arm. "Are ya aw right? Did 'e try to hurt ya?"
"Nah, I'm fine, that's jus' it," Mercy's frown deepened. "'E's doin' this thing, like 'e can't... like 'e can't remember, like the coma... did sumthin' to 'is head."
Ruby blinked. Then blinked again. "I don't understand."
Mercy sighed heavily. "'E's tryin' to act like the coma did sumthin' to 'is brain, like 'e can't remember the bad stuff that 'e's done, an' that he's…” she hesitated before continuing, “…not like 'e used to be."
The other girl stared, uncomprehendingly. "That ain't possible."
"I know it ain't possible!" Mercy snapped back, irritably. She felt so off balance and confused - the conversation with her brother had shaken her, disturbed her very deeply.
Ruby took a deep, calming breath and studied her friend. "Elena, yer white as a ghost," she finally noted, touching the raven haired girl's arm. "Are ya aw right?"
"Yeah," Mercy jerked her head affirmatively. "It was jus'... weird," she muttered, shivering. "I almost believed 'im."
"You almost believed - what?" Ruby shook her head, unable to wrap her mind around the implications of what Mercy was trying to tell her.
"That bein' in a coma changed him somehow, an' 'e don't remember a lot a' what 'e's done," Mercy tried to explain, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. "'E's a damn good liar," she admitted grudgingly. Ruby gaped at her.
"'Zactly, 'e's always been a damn good liar, which jus' proves that - " she stopped, her expression clearly displaying her nausea at the whole situation. "It's impossible," she mumbled.
"I know it is!" Mercy snarled for the second time.
Ruby swallowed, trying to understand this new game. "We have to go the police," she said, more to herself. "He's supposed to go back to jail as soon as 'e wakes up - "
"He'll jus' escape again," Mercy muttered. Ruby shook her head.
"He won't, we have to. Where is 'e now?"
"St. Mary's Charity Mission," Mercy sighed, surprising the other girl with the fact that she even had an answer to the question.
"He's stayin' there?" Ruby blurted out, horrified. Mercy shrugged.
"What 'e said," she mumbled, and got to her feet. "I gotta find Delanie."
"Yeah," Ruby rose too, twisting her hands nervously. "I'd better go to the Bronx."
There was a pause, and the two girls exchanged worried, frightened looks. "I thought it was over," Ruby finally whispered, tears trembling on her lashes. Mercy cursed under her breath and hugged the shorter girl.
"It's gonna be aw right," she promised fiercely. "Four Eyes'll keep ya safe."
"He's the one I'm worried about," came the mumbled response as Ruby returned the hug.
"It'll be aw right," Mercy repeated stubbornly. "Be careful," she added and her friend nodded. "If ya needs a place to stay where 'e won't find ya, I'm sure Sham'll let ya stay at the 'partment,"
Ruby nodded again, wiping quickly at her tears. "You be careful too," she added.
"Yeah," Mercy gave her another quick hug, then the two girls went their separate ways, Mercy to the factory where Sham worked, Ruby towards the Bronx.
She was halfway to the Harlem River bridge when she changed her mind. Hesitating for a moment, then, with firmer resolve, she turned on her heel and headed for St. Mary's Charity Mission.
The Mission was adjacent to St Mary's Charity Hospital, a large complex with a shelter, an orphanage, a chapel and a small school attached. Ruby peeked hesitantly through the wrought iron fence and swallowed hard. It seemed blasphemous for Luke to be making his home here, among holy people who dedicated their lives to helping others. It wasn't right. Steeling herself, she stepped through the gates and headed for the shelter.
The shelter and orphanage were located in a second building built onto the church itself, and to get there, she had to go through the front of the chapel. Pausing, Ruby dipped her fingers into the holy water and crossed herself, praying for the safety of those she loved. Taking a deep breath, she hurried on to the main part of the shelter.
"Billy!" a little boy with a patch over one eye went barreling towards her, rushing for the patch of sunshine that illuminated the foyer, and Ruby stepped back as he crashed directly into her legs and buried his little face in her skirts. The movement was so unexpected that she laughed out loud, surprised out of her fear.
"What're ya doin', sugar?" she asked, scooping the little boy up into her arms. He squealed and giggled, wrapping thin little arms around her neck.
"Billy, Sistah Marguerite tol' ya to-" the voice broke off as she looked up, and Ruby nearly dropped the child as she found herself face to face with the only person in the world she could bring herself to hate.
"Maggie." He blinked at her, looking about as shocked as she felt.
Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself. "Ya got a lot a' nerve, Luke Forlani," she hissed. "Hidin' out heah, takin' advantage a' dese people's charity!"
"C'mere Billy, go find Sistah Marguerite, aw right?" Luke said quietly, by way of answer, holding his arms out for the little boy. Automatically, Ruby tightened her grip. It was like watching a pit bull sniff the hand of a toddler, but, to her astonishment, little Billy reached out trustingly, and let himself be taken from her and set easily on the ground. Luke smiled down at the child, and Ruby's jaw dropped at that smile - open, innocent, nothing she'd ever seen on Luke's face - Luke Forlani didn't know how to smile like that - the emotions required for it were completely alien to his nature.
Good God.
There was a beat of silence after the child had toddled off, then Luke brought his gaze to hers. "Maggie," he said her name softly, almost reverently, and Ruby felt ill.
"Don't," she hissed at him. "You can fool these people, but I know you, this is nothin' but a big lie!"
The young man in front of her flinched as if she'd hit him. "What are ya doin' heah?" he asked softly, speaking more to the marble floor than to her.
"Elena said ya put on quite a show, I wanted ta see it fer meself," she snapped, and he flinched again. Crossing her arms over her chest, she waited for the act, the innocence, the pleas of I don't remember.
They didn't come. Luke stared at the ground for a long moment, then slowly raised his eyes to look at her. The look on his face was so completely unnerving that Ruby took an automatic step back. Somehow, longing was far worse than menace.
"I remember you," he said, so quietly she had to strain to hear him. "Jus' bits an' pieces, but yer da clearest thing in me head."
Ruby blinked. "Is that so?” she snapped, taken off guard. "Den do ya remember givin' me dese?" Shoving her arm in his face, she yanked up the muslin sleeve of her blouse and presented him with the evidence of his crimes.
Night dark eyes widened, filled with horror. Luke stared, his mouth working. "I - I did dat ta you?" he whispered, sounding down right stricken. "Maggie - I - oh, my God-"
"Stop it! Jus' stop it!" Ruby stepped back, yanking the sleeve back into place. "Do not stand dere an' pretend it sickens ya, 'cause you laughed, you said I deserved it! Ya cannot expect me ta believe-" Choking, she spun on her heel to go.
"Maggie-" Luke caught her arm, and Ruby squeaked, struggling to get away. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he gasped as she yanked away from him. Scrambling down the steps of the mission, she turned back to face him.
"Dis is da worst thing ya's evah tried ta pull!" she hissed at him, shaken and disconcerted and completely horrified that for a split second, she'd almost believed it. "I hate you - haven't ya done enough ta me?" This last was barely audible as she burst into tears.
Luke opened his mouth to say something, but whatever it was, she didn't stay around to hear it. Without a backward glance, she took off for the Bronx.
She ran nearly all the way to the next borough. Even after hitching a ride on a trolley, it seemed to take forever to get there, as if she were moving in a dream. Finally, she turned a corner and saw Four Eyes up ahead. Relief flooded through her, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from bursting into tears on the spot. Slowing from a run, she approached him from behind.
"Hey," she managed to whisper. Four Eyes turned immediately, his greeting smile promptly fading at the expression on her face.
"What’s wrong?" He went to put his arms around her, only to find himself hampered by the stack of papers he still held. Quickly, he dropped them on the cobblestones and pulled her into his embrace.
Ruby shook her head as she clung to him, too completely disconcerted to do anything more than tremble.
"Ruby?" she could hear the worry in his voice. "What is it?"
"I - " she started to speak and found she couldn’t. Hysteria bubbled up, and she began to giggle madly. She knew she was scaring him, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.
"Ruby!?" There was urgency in his voice now, even as his grip on her tightened.
The hysterical laughter stopped as abruptly as it started, and she burst into tears.
"I can’t do this again," she mumbled into his chest. Taking a deep breath, she blurted, "He’s awake. An’ he’s - " She couldn’t find the words to describe it. Sobbing, she tried to regain some kind of control. She felt Four Eyes tense, the arms around her pulling her closer to him. "Elena’s seen ‘im," she added.
"Ruby," his voice was quiet, steely. "I will take you ta Siberia if I hafta ta protect ya. Ya know dat," he said, hugging her even closer.
"You don’t understand," Ruby whispered, shaking her head. Finally, she tipped her head back and looked up at him. His face was white, but there was determination in those beloved eyes.
"What?" he asked softly, studying her expression.
"He’s doin’ this thing - " How was she supposed to explain it? She shook her head again. "It’s an act, of course it is, its gotta be, it couldn’t be anythin’ else, but Elena - " she stopped, trying to control her breathing before she began to hyperventilate. "He says ‘e don’t remember stuff."
Four Eyes’ frown deepened even more. "Don’t remember?" he echoed, plainly bewildered.
"Bad stuff," Ruby struggled to explain. "Stuff he’s done." Four Eyes shook his head slowly, in horror, in disbelief, in disgust. “I saw ‘im today,” Ruby whispered, burying her face in his shoulder. “It was – it’s not him!”
“Ya don’t hafta deal wit’ him,” Four Eyes reassured her, pulling her ever closer, stroking her hair. She nodded, rubbing her cheek against his vest.
“I know, but ‘e’s….” she shuddered. “He’s up to somethin’.”
“I meant it,” he said quietly, steely. “I will do anythin’, go anywhere, ta keep you safe.”
Ruby nodded again, squeezing her eyes tight. It wasn’t so much herself she was worried about. “I know that,” she whispered shakily. “I know that.”
He was pushing a toddler on a swing. There was something nearly obscene about the sight. It seemed so peaceful, so benign: a handsome young man laughing down at the small group of children as they played in the piles of fallen autumn leaves, the expressions on their little faces that of adoration and admiration.
It was a bloody charade.
A mockery.
Mercy was afraid she was going to be sick. Luke couldn't see her from here, hidden as she was by the small copse of trees on the edge of the mission property. There was no one around, no one to note his behavior and be taken in, except for the children, and she couldn't imagine the point in working so hard to fool them - they were just children after all. What was he trying to prove? What was he up to?
"Are you looking for someone, child?" the voice came from behind her, and Mercy turned, a nasty retort on her lips. It died at the sight of the clerical collar the man wore. She bit her tongue against the rude words and merely glared instead. The priest smiled, then blinked as he took a closer look at her. "You must be Elena," he commented, glancing past her at the playground.
"How'd ya guess?" Mercy muttered acidly, turning to follow his gaze. Luke was kneeling in front of a small boy, tying a loose shoelace. Obscene.
"You and your brother look alike," the priest answered cheerfully.
"Lucky me," Mercy snorted, flipping her braid over her shoulder without taking her eyes off her brother.
The priest chuckled softly. "I'm Father Michael," he said, holding out a hand to her. Mercy scowled at it, then grudgingly shook it. "And you're Elena Forlani," he finished when she didn't introduce herself.
"What's it to ya?" she mumbled, turning away again.
"Your brother speaks of you often," Father Michael remarked gently. Mercy narrowed her eyes.
"Oh, yeah? He ever tell ya about the few times 'e's tried to kill me an' me friends? Or about how 'e tried ta whore me out to increase 'is business?" she snapped. If the priest was shocked, he didn't show it.
"Not precisely," he replied, rubbing a hand over his balding scalp. "He knows he's done terrible things, but the specific details escape him."
"Bullshit," Mercy snorted. "'E remembers 'em as well as I do." She could feel the father's eyes on her.
"You think he's lying," Father Michael said softly. His tone wasn't accusing, but Mercy could hear the rebuke in it anyway.
Scowling, she turned to meet his gaze. "I don't think 'e's lyin', I fucking know it," she retorted.
"How do you know?" came the gentle response. Mercy snorted loudly, rudely.
"'Cause it ain't possible fer 'im ta not be."
"Anything is possible with God, Elena."
Oh please.
"Not this," she snapped. The priest frowned.
"Are you so arrogant as to question God, Elena?" he asked.
"God ain't got nuthin' ta do wit' it!" she shot back, frustrated.
"God has everything to do with it."
"Gimme a fucking break," she muttered under her breath, turning on her heel to go.
"How else do you explain it, then, child?" the priest asked her patiently.
Mercy paused, looking past him at her brother. "'E's fakin'. Ain't nuthin' to explain."
"How can you be so sure?" Father Michael persisted.
"How can you be so sure 'e ain't lyin'?" she snapped angrily. "Ya didn't know 'im before. If ya did, ya'd know it jus' ain't possible."
Father Michael shook his head. "There's a war going on, Elena," he said, quietly, but with complete conviction. "Your brother was on the wrong side for a long time. I think while he was in that coma, God stepped in and took him back for the right side."
Mercy stared. "It don't work dat way," she mumbled, feeling ill. She couldn’t believes an educated man, a priest – Good lord, Luke had duped them all.
"Doesn't it? I think something very extraordinary happened to Luke while he was in that coma. God touched him, and granted him a second chance to make amends."
She laughed out loud. "Bull fucking shit."
The priest frowned deeply. "I understand your skepticism, Elena. You've suffered deeply at the hands of your brother, but you owe it to both of you to give him a chance." He paused, giving her a significant look. "He is, after all, the only family you have left, as I understand it."
Mercy shook her head. "I got a family. An' that lyin' bastard ain't part of it."
With that, she wheeled around and stalked off across the lawn.
She didn't look back.
Stay tuned! More to come...
