CHAPTER 5
ÁNGEL

Jude didn't expect to have such an intense reaction at seeing her godfather's house, but she couldn't help shedding a few tears. It had been so long since she'd last been here, and when she had decided this morning that she wanted to visit, she thought it'd be quick, innocent. But here she was, sitting in her car with the air conditioner blasting, wiping at the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks.

The house was exactly how she remembered: a cottage-style home with Southern flair. Yellow shingles, white paint-chipped roof, with two wind chimes by the door. An old brick path led to the front door, where a Virgin Mary statue was situated next to the wind chime on the right. Unlike her parents' house, the front lawn was slightly more watered, more green than yellow. There were even some dandelion patches sprouting in a few places.

It took a lot of courage to walk up the door. Jude didn't know if she was ready to see Aunt Peggy again. But as soon as she was sure the tears had ceased, she realized she couldn't just creepily watch the house from her car forever. So she walked out into the late-morning sun, Daisy Duke shorts clinging to her hips and an oversized Fleetwood Mac tee draped over her torso, and then padded up the path. Her busted-up Adidas crunched over every old brick, and she found herself hesitating to knock.

But then the door was opening, and she was greeted by Aunt Peggy's wrinkled features.

"Willodean," she said with a smile, and Jude didn't have the heart to correct her. "You're home."

Jude lifted her sunglasses to her hairline, studying her. Her aunt had always been beautiful. Not even wrinkles or smile lines could dull her beauty. Her long, white hair was tied into a braid, and her wide blue-green eyes were shining in the morning light. Her skin was dotted with freckles and age spots from years of tanning in the sun; her lips were permanently stained a pretty pink from whatever Mary Kay product she'd gotten at a party in the '90s. She'd gained some definition since she'd last seen her – her arms had gotten a little more muscled. Probably from all the yard work she liked to do.

"Come here, sugar," she said in that deep, Southern drawl, bringing Jude into her arms. Jude was much taller than her, so she had to bend down to reach her, but Peg was strong and held her close. "I can't believe you actually came back. Thank you."

"Anytime, Aunt Peg," she said, resting her chin on her aunt's shoulder.

When Peggy leaned back, she kept her hands on Jude's shoulders. "Would you like to have a glass of iced tea with me? It's fresh."

Jude nodded quickly. Peg's iced tea had been one of her favorites growing up. She knew how to steep it for the right amount of time, how much sugar to use ... it was delicious. Jude followed her aunt through the door, taking her time walking through the house to stare at all the photos on the walls. The frames stood out on the paisley wallpaper that her aunt had never changed. There were photos of her mother and father at family cookouts, her father's first day of school, even her and Uncle Abel playing at the local watering fountain. Her heart lurched, and she took a moment to suck up another sob.

"Abel would've been so happy to see you back here," Peggy sighed, pouring Jude a glass from a large pitcher. Jude sat down at the 1950s-styled dining table, accompanied by a bright yellow tablecloth. The kitchen was hotter than outside. All the windows were open and a fan was placed near the table, blowing hot air at them. Her aunt's little poodle came up to Jude excitedly, licking her hand until he dashed out into the backyard. Peg placed a fresh lemon slice in the glass and handed it over with a sweet smile. "I wish you could've visited on ... better circumstances." She bit her lip, struggling to hide her tears.

"Aunt Peg ..." Jude trailed off, grabbing her hand when her aunt sat across the table. Jude's thumb smoothed over Peggy's old knuckles and age spots. She squeezed her hand, wanting her to let out everything she had been feeling. Aunt Peg had always been strong – not strong-willed like Bonnie-Mae, but a different kind of strong. It was finally time for her to let go a little of that hard exterior she put up so well.

Maybe Jude could learn from her own advice.

Peg dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. "I'll be okay."

"But it's okay not to be," Jude argued, giving her aunt's hand one last squeeze before circling around her glass. Condensation dripped down her fingers as she gulped down some of the iced tea. It tasted like her childhood.

"I mean ..." Jude struggled to find the words. "Dad told me you found him." She quickly turned to the window to her left, which overlooked the woods behind their backyard. She swallowed hard. Peg had found Abel back there.

"I'm just ..." Jude exhaled heavily, eyes flickering back to Peggy. "I'm really sorry you had to witness that. All of this – it's just not fair. He had so many more years to grow old with you, and then ..." She chewed on her bottom lip to stop herself from crying again.

"Seeing him like that was just too much," Peg said with a shake of her head. For a second, it looked like she was reminiscing, and then stopped herself. "Too much that I ended up blacking out. I woke up on my couch with a medic shining a flashlight in my eye. My house was packed with officers. Apparently, I screamed so loud that a neighbor heard and called the cops."

Jude took another sip of iced tea. "And you really don't remember seeing anything after the blackout? Nothing at all? A figure in the woods?"

"I know that I must've seen more, but I can't remember." She downed the rest of her iced tea, hoping it would stop the sweat beading her hairline. "And honestly, I don't want to remember."

Jude had more questions – of course, she did. She couldn't let this go. It was all too confusing and she couldn't believe there could be a murderer in a town as small as Barton Hollow. Before she could open her mouth, though, her aunt stood and walked over to her. With her free hand, she reached out to stroke Jude's chin, admiring her feminine features. "Enough about me. I can't talk about that anymore." She sighed, still stroking Jude's chin. "You grew up to be so beautiful, Willodean. He would've cried if he could see you now."

Jude bit her lip. She understood the sentiment behind her aunt's words, but she couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt at not visiting sooner. Maybe she deserved it. She should've seen them sooner, or at least called.

Peggy let go of her chin and chuckled. "But Abel would've lost it if he heard your voice now. It's like the Southern Bell has been plucked out of you!"

She laughed at her aunt's attitude; it was like nothing had ever changed between them. The years had taken away Peg's childlike wonder with Jude. Stepping towards the sink, Peg set her empty glass down and exclaimed, "Oh! Speaking of your uncle, I just found something this morning that belongs to you."

Her aunt disappeared down the hall before Jude could protest. She came back a minute later with a creased cardboard box and set it on the table. Dust floated up at the impact. "I was looking through all our old stuff today, looking for pictures and knick-knacks..." Peg trailed off while digging through the box. "And then, I found this."

Peggy dangled a gold chain from her fingers. Jude held out her own hand, and her aunt dropped the necklace into her palm. A cross pendant hung in the middle of the chain, one big diamond crusted into the center of the gold cross. The chain was small; it was the perfect size for her little neck as a child. Jude swallowed hard and looked up at her aunt. "Uncle Abel had given me this at my first communion," she said in amazement. "I thought I'd lost it when I moved. I can't believe he kept it this whole time."

Peg smiled and brushed her fingers over the pendant. She then met Jude's dark eyes. "May I?"

It seemed wrong to wear a cross necklace when she didn't believe in it anymore, but it wasn't like she could say no to Peg's gentle stare. Jude nodded, allowing her aunt to take the necklace. It wasn't like it would fit anyway. The chain was made for a child; it was far too small for an adult's neck. But somehow, when Peg looped the chain around her head and clasped it in the back, the pendant fell just at her collarbone. "It still fits perfectly," Peg cooed, letting her hair go so it flowed down her back once again.

Jude touched the cross with just her fingertips, feeling how light it was compared to when she was younger. It was as if the necklace was always meant to fit.

━━━━━━

Jude had hit her last Lucky Strike while smoking a few with Aunt Peg. After spending the afternoon on her porch, sitting in beach chairs and recounting old stories while the sun turned their noses pink, Jude headed into town to pick up another pack. She parked on the other side of the road next to the gas station near her aunt's house. Her car was a little off-center from the lines on the road, but it would do for the time being.

The bell rang as she stepped through the door of the tiny convenience store. Jude walked up to the counter, where a man with three missing teeth gave her one of the creepiest smiles she'd ever seen and tipped his tattered baseball cap at her as a form of greeting. She ignored his behavior and asked him for two Lucky Strike packs behind the counter. Once he rang her out, she headed for the door again, only to halt by the newsstand right by the exit.

A black-and-white picture of her godfather was on the front page of the local paper.

Jude picked up the paper after a beat of hesitation. Barton Hollow was such a small town that even local deaths were big news. But everyone knew this wasn't just some death of old age; Uncle Abel was apparently murdered in cold blood. It was even in the fine print. The headline read, BROTHER TO BARTON HOLLOW PREACHER KILLED. Jude skimmed the page, not having enough strength to read all the gory details now. But she did find her eyes lingering on one paragraph that mentioned her godfather's murder was now the third death in a string happening over the past few months. Little instances connected the deaths, except for one thing: wounds on the side of the neck, having almost their entire jugular ripped out. Every victim had been older. She bit her lip. It was almost like a storyline out of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

On the same newsstand, she noticed a stack of flyers, looking like they'd been made by a teenager. There was a large picture of a man in a full bodysuit, a large, red spider insignia plastered on black fabric, looking like some kind of Spider-Man wannabe. (Jude lived in New York; she'd seen the local hero once or twice. And this guy was definitely not him.) His head was turned over his shoulder, red eyes piercing into the camera. The photo was so dark that you couldn't even see his face. Above the photo were the words, HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MASKED VIGILANTE? Contact information was supplied at the bottom. This was probably a prank. A flyer made by some kids to fool locals. But still ...

Those red eyes.

Her red eyes.

Jude paid a dollar for the newspaper, and against her better judgment, kept the flyer close to her chest.

Slipping the two packs into the back pockets of her Daisy Dukes, she made her way out of the little convenience store and headed towards her car, the bell ringing as she left. Across the street, Jude noticed a tall, muscular man dressed in all-black chatting up some woman in the supermarket parking lot. There was only one person she knew around here that would wear all black in Louisiana, and sure enough, when his head turned a little to the side, Jude recognized Miguel O'Hara's chiseled features. She crossed the street to get to her El Camino, practically staring at Miguel as the dark-haired woman he was talking to wrote her number on the back of his hand. She was beautiful; probably someone Jude went to high school with. Long, dark brown hair and lashes, sun-kissed skin with freckles dotting almost every inch of her face.

Jude unlocked her car and scowled. This man had only just moved here and he was already making moves on all the women. Not that she cared. She didn't know Miguel, even though she did get a sense of déjà vu whenever she saw him. Shaking her head, she opened her car door and threw her things in the passenger seat. The air conditioning would take a few minutes to work, so she blasted it, leaving the windows open while starting her car.

"We have to stop meeting like this, ángel."

Jude whipped her head to the side, not expecting Miguel O'Hara to be there, leaning against her driver's side window. "Shit!" She exclaimed, clapping a hand over her mouth to prevent more curses from spilling out. How did he even get over here so fast? He was just talking to that woman a minute ago, engaged in what looked like a very flirty conversation. Jude's eyes flickered ahead, spotting the dark-haired woman walking to her car.

She scowled again, allowing her hands to tighten around her steering wheel. "Yes, I'd honestly like us to stop meeting – period." He was still staring at her, unfazed, eyebrows lifted. Jude glanced in her rearview mirror and saw a motorcycle parked behind her.

Of course, she thought to herself, most handsome men with an earring and a spider tattoo and an all-black outfit own a motorcycle. This was like a page taken out of some self-published romance book she liked to read on flights.

Jude turned back to Miguel. "I'm guessing that's yours behind my car and you need me to move."

"Sí," he replied, now hunched over so he could rest his muscly forearm on the edge of her driver's side window. The air conditioning was cold now, and she was half-tempted to roll both windows up and speed away from him. But instead, she was plastered to her seat, gripping the steering wheel tight, and he grinned. "I think we got off on the wrong foot."

She arched a brow. "Ya' think?" Her knuckles were turning white the longer she held onto this steering wheel. He had to know that his presence alone was riling her up. The smirk on his lips said it all. "My foot shouldn't even be here in the first place. But then I made a snap decision with my career, and my godfather just had to get murdered –" Jude stopped herself, realizing she had revealed too much. She tore her eyes away from him, looked down, and shook her head.

"Your godfather was murdered?" Miguel asked, a sense of recognition in his tone. He ran his hand through his hair and pushed it back. Jude wanted to grimace at how effortlessly handsome he was. "That's the funeral you're in town for?"

Jude lifted her head again, narrowing her eyes. He remembered what she said she was in town for? She was surprised he even remembered her at all. But he seemed sincere; she could see it in the way his eyes softened. Her hands slipped down to rest on her thighs as she looked at him.

Finally, she blinked, breaking herself out of whatever trance he had her in. She cleared her throat and replied, "I shouldn't get into it. I hardly know you."

"Fair enough, ángel."

That snarky expression was back on his face, causing her to frown. "Do you usually give strangers nicknames, Miguel O'Hara?" She challenged, feigning boredom. "I could do without it."

Miguel cocked his head to the side and pointed towards her face. "Really? You're blushing," he chuckled, and Jude automatically slapped her hands onto her pink cheeks. He was probably lying; she would've felt her cheeks heat up. "By the way," he added, leaning in a little more towards her, "I don't think we're exactly strangers anymore."

She released her cheeks and narrowed her eyes again. "First of all, whatever blush you see is a sunburn. And second ..." Jude glanced down at the top of his hand, where the dark-haired woman scribbled her phone number. She smiled. "You should probably call her later."

Miguel clicked his tongue, but held back whatever words threatened to spill out. Instead, he straightened his back, and Jude's eyes couldn't help but follow up. She knew what it was like to be tall – she was 5'8", after all. But his height was on another level. He had to be maybe a foot taller than her.

He tipped his head in her direction. "Adiós, Jude Wright."

Jude turned her head over her shoulder, watching him walk back to his motorcycle behind her car. He got on the bike, catching her eyes on him, and saluted her. She sent him a fake smile before rolling up both windows and putting her car in drive. As she drove off, she wondered if this was all God punishing her for lack of faith, gracing her with Miguel O'Hara's charming presence. Maybe she should start believing in God again.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: miguel got jude all flustered like..............OK I SEE U !!! 🤭 their slowburn is only gonna get better from here hehe. I can't WAITTTTT to show y'all what's in store. and just a little side note: I absolutely LOVE writing stories in this southern gothic/southern rural towning setting! hope you guys are liking it too 💓