In Search of a Goddess 02: Flight by Seldom Hunted by the priesthood. ***** AUTHOR'S NOTE ***** I love hearing from you. I really do. Please e-mail me if you like this story, and even if you don't, tell me what you didn't like. One warning, this story is quite violent, but no more so than your average fantasy novel. * * * * * "The children woke up and they couldn't find 'em They left before the sun came up that day They just drove off and left it all behind 'em But where were they going without ever knowing the way" -- "The Way", Fastball Father Mallory watched the giant redhead walk into the classy east-side apartment building in a daze. She was a Daughter of Athena now, he knew, the latent magic unleashed by the murder she must have committed today. That was the only reason Helen would go into an apartment building and leave the residents alive. Father Patrick Mallory of the Holy Catholic Church had been chasing Helen for nearly ten years, never managing to confront her when firepower was in his favor. It was his job to hunt down and kill these Daughters of a heathen goddess. He was a moral man, and most would say a good man, and his job would give him serious qualms were it not for the fact that Daughters were indistinguishable from normal women until they killed. Therefor the only women he ever hunted were already murderers. There was one woman he vowed he would kill before he died. Helen's evil could not continue. Her murderous ways must be stopped, and he would stop them. He didn't know how, she was already more powerful than any Daughter in the history of the Catholic Church, but someday he would find a way. Helen claimed to be around a hundred and twenty, but he suspected she was far older. He had evidence, not conclusive, that she was as ancient as Athena herself. She was clever, never confronting a hunter when he had the high ground. Among the thousands of men she boasted of killing were many hunters, including Mallory's mentor. That was why he would follow her to the end of the Earth, and then shove her off. The other Daughters he killed because it was his job; he would kill Helen out of sheer hatred. After a half hour, Mallory entered the apartment building. He read the mailbox he had seen the redhead check earlier. Alyssa Connor, he thought, I don't know why you killed, but you shouldn't have. He went to her apartment and quietly picked the lock. He crept through the dark rooms, alert for the sound of breathing, but heard nothing. The floor creaked. He whirled around, pistol in one hand, bible in the other. Helen chuckled. "Father Mallory, what a pleasant surprise." Mallory watched her cautiously, taking a step back, the sight of the pistol trained straight at her left eye. "I wish I could say the same, Helen. You don't happen to know where I could find a big redhead? I hear men are just dying to meet her." Helen circled slowly, watching the pistol tracking her every move. "You should be ashamed, Father. Alyssa's such a sweet girl. You know she told me she doesn't want to kill anybody?" Mallory's movements mirrored Helen's, keeping aim on her eye. "It's a little late for that, though, isn't it? She killed someone today or you wouldn't be here, initiating her into your sick sisterhood." "Just a mortal, Father. Why don't you pray for his soul and fix everything? It's me you want, Father, it's me you should kill. Why do you hunt the other Daughters? Nine times out of ten they're just nice girls who can't help that they're too strong for mortal men, who wouldn't hurt a fly and killed by accident." It was true, and deep inside Mallory knew it was true, but he couldn't admit it to himself. It would undermine his entire life's work. So he went on the defensive. "You're abominations, children of a heathen goddess. You're murderers and worse. You must be cleansed." "Like the Jews, Father? The Jesus-killers your beloved church persecuted so mercilessly? They were almost cleansed, alright, you should be proud." Mallory was angry and defensive. The Church was good, and holy, and she was an abomination... so why was she always right? He steeled himself and replied, "We're past that now, every institution has its fall from grace. Do you deny that your kind are killers, Daughters of War?" She shook her head. "Will you hear my confession, Father?" "Why do you always ask me that?" Mallory asked through clenched teeth. She grinned. Her broad shoulders shrugged, her massively muscled arms rippled with power. "Because every time I do you hate me a little more, Father, blemishing that precious soul of yours. If you ever do hear my confession, it would be an admission of defeat for you, a recognition that I have a soul worth saving. Yet every time you deny me my right to a confession, you are denying everything you believe in. I love making you a hypocrite, you smug self-righteous bastard." She left out the window, Mallory's pistol following her all the way out. If she turned around, he would shoot her in the eye, and then it was a fifty-fifty chance on which one of them would die. But she didn't look back; she knew they would meet again. Mallory settled onto a couch and waited for Alyssa to return. * * * * * Ryan woke up aching. He took a moment to remember where he was, then he saw Alyssa sprawled on his couch. She had kicked off the sheet during the night, revealing her flawless, powerful body. Her long red hair framed her beautiful face. When Alyssa awoke, she groggily opened her eyes. Her night had been fitful, full of violent and horrible dreams. She wished the man she killed yesterday had been a dream. She looked around, the events of last night flooding back into her memory. Psychotic Helen, the random walk around the city while sobbing hysterically, and finally how she ended up in her nerdy little neighbor's living room. She hadn't meant to fall asleep on his couch, she was just too exhausted to stay awake any longer. She heard tapping behind her. She turned around and watched Ryan typing at the computer for a while. She didn't understand what he was doing, but she recognized the Johnson & Johnson logo on the screen. Eventually he stopped typing and turned around. He looked embarrassed to find her watching him. "Just, um, some online security stuff," he mumbled. Then he managed to stutter out a question, would she like some coffee? Alyssa smiled, lighting up the room. She had the kind of natural beauty that always shown through, in spite of just waking up from a fitful night on a stranger's couch. Ryan couldn't hide the frank admiration in his eyes. "Please, I'd love some coffee, thank you," she said. While he was in the kitchen she took a look around. Ryan Miller, she read from an envelope. Well, Ryan, she thought to herself, I don't know why I ended up here with you last night, but I'm glad I did. What a perfect gentleman he was, shy and sweet and so pathetically eager to please. He brought back a tray of food. "I didn't know what you like, so I um brought some choices," he stuttered out, blushing. The tray contained coffee, sugar, orange juice, a muffin, a bagel, and some cream cheese. Alyssa accepted it gratefully; she hadn't eaten last night, and she was no anorexic model, she was hungry! While she was eating she looked at Ryan once in a while. He looked down whenever she caught his eyes. She thought about what a nice guy Ryan was. He didn't want anything from her, it was obviously a joy for him just to be with her. That didn't happen to Alyssa; the men she was with payed for her company and definitely expected results. For Ryan it was enough that he could give her breakfast, even though she might never see him again after today. It made her feel good to be desired so purely. She finished eating. "Thank you, Ryan, for everything," she said. "I really appreciate you letting me stay here last night, I didn't want to be alone." Something deep within Ryan opened, and he managed to speak without stuttering for a few brief, painfully honest seconds. "I'd do anything for you Alyssa, I love you." As soon as he said it he turned bright red and looked away. The awkward moment didn't last long, however. They both jumped when they heard someone knocking on Alyssa's door. "Alyssa? Alyssa hon, you okay?" Alyssa looked at Ryan. "Melissa, from work," she said. She was about to go talk to Melissa when they heard her door open. "Hey!" Then a brief struggle and a thump. "Now, young lady, where can I find Alyssa?" "I don't know!" Whack! Alyssa jumped to her feet and raced for the door. "Wait!" Ryan called and tried to stop her, but she was much too big for him. She hardly noticed dragging him across the living room and out into the hall. "Melissa!" she cried. A man dressed in black with a white priest's collar holding a gun came into the hall. "Alyssa Connor?" he said. "What have you done to Melissa?" she demanded. He made the sign of the cross and raised his pistol. His finger was squeezed on the trigger when Ryan tackled him, taking them both to the floor. The bullet smashed into the ceiling, raining plaster down on Ryan and Mallory. Ryan punched Mallory's forearm and the gun went skittering down the hall. Mallory scrabbled after the gun. Ryan grabbed Alyssa's waist and tried to haul her to the elevator, but Alyssa just ran to the door of her apartment. Melissa was moaning on the floor. The priest reached his gun and brought it around. Alyssa and Ryan ran down the hall to the elevator. Mallory tried to aim but he was still shaking from Ryan's tackle. He called down the hall, "Where are you going, Alyssa? You're a murderer! I know it, and soon the police will! Where are you going to hide?" They disappeared into the elevator. Alyssa collapsed against the wall of the elevator, shaking. Ryan supported her, her weight nearly bearing both of them to the ground. Tears streamed down Alyssa's face. "I'm a murderer," she moaned to herself over and over. The elevator door opened into the basement parking garage. "Come on!" Ryan urged, tugging on Alyssa's sleeve. She slowly followed him, still crying. The other elevator's display showed it coming down from their floor. "Come on!" Ryan pulled harder. They made it to Ryan's black Jaguar just as the other elevator opened and Mallory came rushing out. He saw the sleek car peal out of its parking space and disappear up the ramp. He shrugged and called the police. * * * * * The Jag was Ryan's present to himself. He had all this money and didn't know what to do with it, so he figured he'd buy himself some nice stuff. He also figured it would help attract girls since he couldn't seem to do it by himself, but since he never went out to meet women it didn't help. Ryan and Alyssa drove in silence. Ryan took the GW bridge out of the city and headed vaguely northwest for no reason. Alyssa had stopped crying but hadn't said anything, and Ryan didn't know what he could say that would make Alyssa feel better. He was burning with curiosity and a little fear to know what the priest had meant, but he couldn't ask. Eventually Alyssa spoke. Her voice had the same emotionless quality it had the night before. "I suppose you want to know why I'm in trouble," she said. Ryan studied the road ahead. "You don't have to tell me," he said quietly. "I just want to help you." "Thank you. But I should tell you." Alyssa took a deep breath. He said he loved her and would do anything for her, but that was before he knew what a...a monster she was. She didn't want him to stop helping her, but she couldn't let him help her without knowing what she was. She explained it, everything, her parents' death, her prostitution (she looked over at him to see his reaction to that, but he just kept watching the road), and the events of yesterday, concluding with what Helen had told her. "It's unbelievable, I know, but I can't help but believe it. What else could explain what I did? I'm not human!" she sobbed at the end. Ryan pulled off into a rest stop. He turned off the car and sat there for a minute. Alyssa watched him, not knowing what he was going to do. Would he be afraid of her? Kick her out of the car? Abandon her? He smiled weakly and looked at her lap, the smooth muscular thighs under her dress. "What do you want to do now?" he asked. "You'll help me?" she asked, not quite believing it. After all, he just found out that she was a prostitute and a killer, what man in his right mind would help her after that? "Of course," he said. "You're so nice, and just being with you..." He couldn't finish. "I don't care what you are or what you did." Alyssa leaned over and kissed his cheek, her warm, soft lips pressing moistly into his skin. "Thank you," she whispered. They got lunch, fast food at Arby's (she ate three times as much as he did), and decided that they should leave New York. Ryan explained that he could take a vacation; he was self-employed and all his projects were complete. Alyssa told him about the twenty thousand dollars she had saved up, and he told her not to worry about it, if she tried to get it the police would know where she was. She told him that she wanted to look for the Amulet. If there was even a possibility it existed, then she needed to find it. She didn't want to kill anybody. They decided the best place to start looking was Washington, DC, the nation's capitol and home of the Library of Congress. They drove to Washington in awkward silence. After all, he still loved her even though he was slightly afraid of her, and she was in his debt. He thought about the wisdom in staying with a woman who needed to kill once a month, but they would cross that bridge when they came to it. They entered Washington around eight at night after a long day of driving, carefully staying under the speed limit. They checked into a Holiday Inn using Ryan's credit card. Two rooms, no baggage. He looked embarrassed ordering two rooms with her right next to him. Outside their rooms she looked at him for a long moment. He started to fidget. "Thank you so much," she said. She went into her room. He looked longingly at her door for a minute, then entered his.