Divine Contract

Lady Catherine was the Head Nun of the Saint Bernadine Convent in Upper Marlboro, MD.  She was a stern woman of poise, grace, and ferocity in her morality that made the other nuns view her as a kind of religious idol.  Even now, as she said Grace for the dinner they were about to receive, she did so with a posture of confidence and a voice of sincerity.  Everybody was too busy bowing their heads to see the older woman’s eyes narrow as they darted across to where the young woman had just popped a piece of bread into her mouth.     Lillian Bernadine was an odd little thing.     She’d been adopted into the convent as a toddler and there were many rumors about how she’d wandered into the church that night, lots of speculation on who had brought her there.  At the age of three she’d simply walked into their church, soaked from a bout of rain outside, wearing nothing but a small nightgown and a pair of pink sandals.  It had been during a heated debate amongst the clergy when she’d simply wondered in, blue eyes wide with innocence, tanned cheeks flushed with fever.  When they’d spotted her there, tiny and completely alone, all argument had ceased and everybody had rushed to her aid.     Of course they’d reported to the authorities and taken her to the hospital.  They’d run through all of the legal parameters and stayed by her side until they were sure she was in good enough health.  The ladies had hated to leave her all alone in such a state, many feeling broken as they made their way back to the Convent.  All of them but one.     Lady Catherine had seen something in that hospital room that day, something she couldn’t quite sort.  Something that left her rooted to the spot beside that little girls’ bed.  She never spoke of it, never said a word, but when that man had walked to the entrance of the room, his dark eyes just as black as his raven hair, his beauty astounding as he stood there, just at the door, waiting.  Every instinct in Lady Catherine’s body spun between fight or flight, goosebumps rising as a slow, lazy smile spread across his full lips, showing off a deep magazine worthy dimple.     Lady Catherine was no fool.  Evil comes in the most beautiful packages.     “Hello miss,” he’d said, even as his eyes remained glued on the small girl.     “Leave.”  It came out sharp and jagged, like broken glass.  Lady Catherine had clutched her cross hard that day, praying all the while as that slow smile lifted just a tad more, his legs carrying him easily through the doorway as he made a bee line for the girl.     Panicked, Lady Catherine threw herself in his way, thrusting the holy water dipped rosary she prayed on every morning and night toward his face.  He stopped, his smile still in place as he looked over the older woman.  “Catherine,” he said, addressing her informally as his dark eyes finally moved to stare deep into hers.  Quickly, she averted her gaze, aware of the ability of a demon’s gaze.  “Ah, it’s rude to ignore me, Catherine.”  His voice changed to a deep growl as he said, “Look at me.”  Startled, Lady Catherin’s eyes had snapped back up to his, the darkness nearly all consuming.  “Ah, sweet Catherine,” he purred, showing his teeth.  “It’s endearing that you want to protect my sweet little Lillian.”     “You must go,” Lady Catherine insisted, shaking her beads pointedly.     He clucked his tongue, gripping the rosary in the older woman’s hand.  She gasped at the touch of his fingers, feeling the sting of fire on her fingertips.  Ripping her hand backwards, he kept a tight clasp on the beads, tucking them neatly into his pocket.  “You are right.  I must.”  Taking a step backwards, he gave her a sly expression.  “Don’t worry though, I’ll be back soon enough.”     Lady Catherine hadn’t waited for his response, having already fallen to her knees in vehement prayer as he spun on his heel and walked away.  It was then that Lady Catherine had found her God-given purpose, her reason for being.  She must stop him from having this child.  Must teach this child the ways of the Catholic church and introduce her to the light before darkness could befall her.     That had been the last time she’d seen him but Lillian had told stories, stories of a man with black eyes who would visit her in her dreams.  A man with a fire crown upon his head who wished to bestow one upon hers.  Lady Catherine had told her to fight the dreams, doubled down on church sessions, reminded her every night to pray before bed—and when Catherine turned six, the dreams stopped.     Praise the Lord, the dreams finally stopped.     Years went by and thoughts about the man with the burning crown had all but been pushed aside since Lady Catherine found her hands full with keeping their beloved child out of trouble.  Lillian quickly grew into a clumsy, careless young woman.  The church was a place of strict discipline and structure and Lillian was a spacey creature who seemed to lack focus most of the time.  She wanted nothing more than to spend her days writing fantasy stories, her head in the clouds with all the curiosities of the world she’d been locked away from for all these years.     The harder that Lady Catherine tried to pull her toward the church, the further the young girl seemed to stray.  Even as the older nun finished Grace and the ladies took their seats, ready to enjoy the blessings that God had bestowed upon them on this day, she could feel nothing but worry over the creature that took one spoonful of soup and had already spilled some on her shirt.  Lady Catherine pinched her nose in frustration.  How could Lillian handle the outside world if she couldn’t even manage her own soup?