Practicing Prayer

“Perhaps you should pray,” Ethan said. He took her to the church and there he played the organ while giving her space to talk to God. The sound of the organ was surprisingly good considering the state of the rest of the building. During the first hymn, Brit was more interested in the music than prayer. By the time he started playing the third hymn, it was clearly obvious to him that Brit not only did not understand what it meant to pray but she also did not know about the existence of God. “God is everywhere and made everything,” Ethan quietly explained while continuing to play the song that made the church feel much less empty. “I prayed a lot when I was younger. Human.”

“What do I do to pray?” she asked. He explained that she just talked like she was talking to a friend and not to worry when there was no response. She looked all over the building and back to Ethan. “But none are near,” she told him. He continued to play and gave suggestions. The playing kept his hands occupied and the music soothed the discomfort that came when he realized that Brit had no understanding of the most significant influence in his mortal life. “I found much comfort in prayer in my younger years. Perhaps you should read about it. Talk to others.”

In the city, many were willing to comment on God, but few would discuss the matter. A stripper in town told Brit, “Honey, I mention God at least once each time I’m on my knees.” Many told her, “Not, God. It’s ‘Goddess’.” Yet others told her that there was no god. The books in the library contradicted each other so she returned to the church to find someone with answers. There, near the confessional, she found a tattered pamphlet titled “How to Pray.” It offered steps, tips and warnings. She read slowly, “Step 1: Set some time aside to pray every day. It could be 15 minutes in the morning, right when you wake up, an hour of meditation in the evening, or any time you can get a break.” Looking about and seeing no one, she decided that now was as good as a time as any.

“Step 2,” she lisped, “Know who you are praying to. It is a conversation and you just talk so it can be a casual hello or a cry for help.” Brit found this step bewildering. After all, she had been attacked once in this very church and no one was there to help. Looking up at the large cross on the wall, she mused about Ethan who obviously used to pray a lot and wondered if help came when he needed it. Since she never prayed, maybe that was why help did not arrive when she needed it. The pamphlet cautioned that all prayers were not answered. Gazing more up at the cross, she felt an incredible sense of emptiness in the building. None were near.”

Brit sat for a while and tried to talk to God, but she never felt any sense that anyone heard her. A few came and went. Of those who frequented the church, none wanted to discuss the being for who it was created. Several hours passed, and so she sat and read the pamphlet. Eventually, Lorne arrived as if he knew she was there. She asked if he knew about God and he told her that he knew several by such a name but confessed that he knew the one that Ethan knew very well as that particular being made him. Lorne painted a picture of a jealous, cruel being who once caste him out of his home – a home he helped to create.

Ethan listened patiently to what Brit relayed regarding her discussion with Lorne before telling her that Lorne was like a soldier from the opposite army. Ethan explained that he believed that God was good, was everywhere, and created everyone and everything. In addition, he said that God created free will allowing others to choose what to believe. Brit struggled to understand how he could be so very sure when Vlad, who was near, ran screaming down the street. Both Ethan and Brit watched Vlad run away, and then watched as Ellie followed him. Turning to Brit, Ethan said, “Talk to Stacy. She will help you understand.”

The Redeemer

He found Brit in the ballroom of the warehouse where she had been spending more than part of her days. Always restless and often alone, she was prancing and twirling to music even as gunfire and screaming raged in the streets below. Upon glimpsing him, she stopped dancing and walked to him greeting him warmly. He placed a triad of kisses on her before gathering her close. There were no words. She had come to expect the quiet. Since his change in appearance, he spoke less each day. Tonight, he spoke not at all, but clasped her to him tightly and stroked her hair. The act of repeatedly pulling his bloodied fingers through her soft strands seemed to have a calming effect.

While holding her, he started to rock her slowly even though his motion did not match the music. He said nothing, and so she waited. Time passed: Minutes. When nothing was said in an hour, she lisped, “I’m not afraid, Ethan.” He paused mid-rock at the sound of her voice. Encouraged, she continued, “Vlad said…that I should not be afraid.” He did not move for a moment, but his eyes watched toward the sounds of gunfire that occasionally hit the bricks of the building. Brushing his hair back from his face with her fingers, she said softly, “Vlad said that fear is only for those who have no redeemer.” He didn’t move and continued to watch the wall in the direction of gunfire. She felt herself pulled in tighter as he wrapped both arms around her. She could feel the tension in him and tried to see if he could hear her. “I don’t remember any of it,” she started. His hold on her tensed more.

His reaction made her feel that he could indeed hear, but she also understood that the fact that she had only been burned when others suffered so much more mattered little if at all to him. Wrapping both arms around his neck, she pulled his head down slightly so she could see his eyes. Her mossy green eyes held his gaze and she recited in a hushed voice, “A redeemer…is someone or something that can rescue you from things that make you afraid.” No response, but he continued to watch her. When she nibbled her lip and processed trying to think what to do or say, he started to rock her against him again. The motion was slow and methodical. She nuzzled against him ignoring the hard, encrusted debris on his clothing.

Brit took comfort in his nearness and his holding her so protectively. She looked at her arm and saw no marks there. Struggling with the placement of events, she mused over what people had told her. She remembered being alone in the library and woke in the Voodoo Shop with Ethan and Niki near. Later, she found that Pieter and Lorne had brought her to the shop, and that one watched while the other healed the burns. Remembering none of that, she sighed and pressed her face against Ethan’s chest. It was all so very confusing to her. Vlad’s words, “And those who did it were burned back,” echoed in her memory, but she said nothing. She felt secure and safe in the arms of the one who extracted revenge. Brit was not comfortable with revenge and was even less so when it involved events that she had no recollection.

The shouts, screams, and sounds of bullets continued. More time passed. Sometimes, he touched her hair or pressed her against him as he silently held her. She missed her beloved with his ready smile, and grey eyes. The night was growing lighter. Pulling on her jacket to leave with him to their resting spot, she kissed him lightly. Quoting Vlad, she lisped, “Everyone gets a chance to be a redeemer.” Blinking, she measures each word carefully as if they might help him if they were said perfectly, “The world only crumbles if we allow it.” He pulled her close to him and walked her home.