Previously on Wings of Light:

"Andrea, I'm deadly serious! Yar advises are a total waste of time. It will take me a while until I situate somewhere else with the fresh start. And let's not mention that I will get rid off the faggot, the young blond and the old whore within less than 24 hours but the organization must b,"

"Total waste of time? Watch yar foul mouth what says. A lot of valuable human lives are going to be under your knife or whatever you use as a weapon. And do you know why? Because of your impulse, selfishness and your bloodthirst for revenge for what they did to you."

--- *** ---

"Cassandra, I wish you were that young to be as selfless as Kathy and Jack! I miss you very much and I rot for everything you to come back into my life, instead of running away like a wounded hare. You have a wonderful husband by your side that cares not only about your ass and your adorable children, but also about me. The one, who made you of flesh and blood and you have the luck to be that smart, radiant and beautiful girl, who met her own prince."

"Andrea? Andrea?"

--- *** ---

"Anything wrong, Andrea?"

"He isn't answering."

--- *** ---

"Your return is too sudden for me, Frank! And I know your strong hatred towards me."

"Since I can see ya got out Edward and Judy out of the hellhole, I can tell my hatred towards ya plummeted. Drastically!"

--- *** ---

"Oh, Tim! It looks like ya have quitted them or I'm mistaking."

"I just rarely smoke especially when my nerves are about to erupt as volcano of its accumbered stress and tasks."

--- *** ---

"Don't you ever dare to... to talk and see my kids! Whores deserve nothing!"

"Mom! Leave us to play with Granny."

--- *** ---

"I'm honored to be yar favorite cook, boys!"

"Do ya have some kind of secrets that are the main reason why your meals rock, Judy?"

--- *** ---

"Can you kiss me?"

"Have ya lost yar mind? Tim, yar boyfriend is going to kill me if he finds out I kissed ya."

--- *** ---

"What do you want to tell me with this?"

"My feelings for you aren't just the same as with Frank's. There's a big difference for sure!"

--- *** ---

--- *** ---

--- The Next Morning ---

--- 7th February, 1966 ---

When the widower finished with his night shift as a security guard in the parking lot, he got back at home by driving his vehicle, humming inwardly whilst listening to the radio music, floating in the background. The car wheels glided through the cleaned paths, whilst the driven snow from the both sides encircled him as vicious, monumental guards of a divine, majestic portal, leading to somewhere else. Somewhere unknown. Somewhere arcane. Somewhere supernatural. Somewhere magical. Somewhere out of the real world.

"It's not unusual to be mad with anyone! It's not unusual to be sad with anyone! But if I ever find that you've changed at anytime! It's not unusual to find out I'm in love with you!" Tom Jones's song It's Not Unusual was currently playing on the radio, whilst the former cop stopped on a red light, swaying his hips and thrumming melodically to himself as his baby-pinkish, soft as satin lips.

"It's not unusual to be mad with anyone!" Frank was singing to himself, relishing the loneliness when he was able to sing to himself even when he wasn't talented in singing unlike Jude. "It's not unusual to be sad with anyone! But if I ever find that you've changed at anytime!" The dim sun gleamed with its sun light, bathing everything below with its palish saturating light, attempting to melt the February's snow. "It's not unusual to find out I'm in love with you!" As the song's instrumental faded out in the background, whereas Frank was whistling quietly, all of a sudden, the radio news began when the traffic light changed chromatically from red to green within a split second.

"The last afternoon, the infamous prostitute, Andrea Drake was released from the custody since she was arrested for prostitution and she wasn't charged with any grave crimes for her long-time career as a hooker." The radio news' hoster declaimed half-heartedly as its voice was feminine. "But Cayden Gray, the notorious serial killer of Vermont, known for kidnapping, raping and killing women even skinning their corpses and collecting their organs is still in the custody for more than 24 hours is going to be released shortly before the trial, besides the hearing is going to take its place in the next 4 days."

"Oh Jeez! I hope Andrea is alright unlike that bastard is going to suffer even more before the trial for doing this to Jude." The middle-aged man muttered under his breath, listening attentively the radio news in the wee hours of the Monday morning.

"And that's not only the horrors of Vermont, lurking with the most notorious serial killer, who's being searched by the authorities for years with struggling, moreover the last victim of his kidnap and attempted rape was a middle-aged woman, whose name is going to be anonymous since her friends insist and she's too ashamed even to think of the accident."

As soon as the single father parked his cab in the parking lot of the grand yard of his property, he turned off the radio as the car engine halted to buzz monotonously by fleeing the vehicle, subsequently locking it and marching up to the front door by towering the threshold stone stairs warily since they were sheeted with tiny snow carpet.

"Oh goddamn radio news! What a relief that asshole is in the custody yet without even thinking of to set a foot outside the jail's darkness." Meanwhile, Frank delved in his slacks' deep pocket for the keys, muffling a puff by zinging his dry, pale-pinkish lips. His tongue twirled outside as its tip scarcely brushed his upper lip including his mild facial hair, formed above his upper lips. "Finally Vermont is going to be a peaceful sanctuary unlike to worry about that jackass roaming freely as each Vermontian has a sixth sense." Once he snatched the keys by unlocking the front door, thereafter in a single click the front door was opened by setting a foot inside the hall shutting the door behind immediately and kicking off his shoes.

When his sapphire blue orbs as grizzle pigments pigmented his orbs more than sapphire by landing them on the domestic phone, noting he has missed a call by biting his lip reluctantly, pensively. Little did he know who had phoned him the day before, during his absence and being a special guest in his old friends' two-story house.

"Who it could be?" Muffled whisper touched his lips gently by approaching the phone, sitting motionlessly on the dressing table until he yanked the earpiece by dialing the same number from which he missed the car yesterday. "H-Hello?" Somebody responded to his phone call for his surprise especially in six o'clock in the morning.

"Oh hi, Frank!" The hooker answered his phone call as her velvety voice echoed through the earpiece, jingling ambiguous tunes. On one hand, nostalgia since they haven't seen one another and heard from one another for days. On other hand, vague, sardonic irritation, vomited her open politeness. "Can you guess from whom you had a missing call yesterday?" Huh?" Sardonic chuckle escaped her lips as the single father's head ducked, propping his temple with a couple of fingers, whilst the elbow rested on the scarcely carpeted in a generous layer of dust dressing table, tickling gently with its natural dust.

"Oh! Isn't that from ya, Andrea?"

"It's."

"I'm so sorry but I wasn't at home the last afternoon. I was in my old friends' house by seeing them a few years later."

"What a good excuse to miss a phone call from your friend!" Wry, husky giggle scratched her tongue as it almost didn't peter out in the thin air. "Anyway how are you?" Then she mooted another topic without even questioning his absence anymore after spitting out the sardonic comment of hers.

"I'm good, Andrea! Thanks! What about ya too? Are ya feeling much better after the custody?" The former police officer wiped off with his solely free hand's amusingly warm, calluous palm the steaky layer of perspiration, smeared on his forehead as cake's glaze.

"That's great. I'm feeling much better as I'm with my grandchildren and David." Elation knotted her words by taking a deep breath for a split second, whereas the former cop's lips curled in a thoughtful, idle purse. "Hold on a second, you know via the radio news that I'm released from the custody?"

"Yeah, I do! I was so relieved when I heard ya were released and Cayden is still under arrest for his atrocities even trying to rape one of my old friends and locking her up in the attic after sedating her." Vast disgust and loath crafted his last sentence, leaking his genuinely impression of what Jude and Timothy told him about the notorious Vermont serial killer that lurked for years without even being caught by the authorities once. Grotesque frown formed on his pale-pinkish lips after popping them up. His heart vehemently hammered in his chest by putting himself in Jude's shoes as if the protagonist was Frank as Jude by being sedated with the pasta and wine, thereafter being locked up relentlessly, inhumanely in the attic without any source of light and once fleeing its trap an attempted rape being the impending tribulation, blocking his path to the escape. "But thank God, that bastard is licking the filthiness of his prison cell's furniture with his tongue and rotting like a half-dead rat."

"Oh, I knew it you're well-informed! I tried to persuade Cayden with diplomacy will accomplish peace with the victim's friends instead of plotting their homicide." Kathy and Jack's mirthful squeals floated in the background by mingling with Andrea's voice as the children eagerly anticipated their grandmother to seat them on the kitchen table for breakfast, while David was brewing coffee for him and his mother-in-law.

"Aren't ya talking about Timothy and Madeleine, besides Jude?"

"I know so far, he called the younger woman a dumb young blond, while Jude's friend a poof or gay. It was in front of me. Not in front of them."

"Ah, I see! That's not very nice of him!" Frank emphasized, slapping his forehead with the palm of his colossal, dryly soft hand. "It's about them since yar mentioning how that asshole called them behind their backs."

"But let's not forget how Cayden called Jude."

"How?" Even the middle-aged man's curiosity was as lethal as cobra's venom, envenoming his brain cells.

"An old whore." Andrea's shame to utter by the way the vicious serial killer addressed the former devotional woman of the cloth nauseated Andrea as if it's nausea genesis flushed her stomach. By the way she uttered the preposterous label, labeled by Cayden, himself.

"I knew it!" The older man squealed in inexorable frustration, slamming with a balled fist the dressing table as its wooden material's gentle brush against his knuckle hyperbolically contrasted the tough slam. "One day, Cayden will see who's an old whore. He's rather an old whore for women by kidnapping, raping and killing them without any mercy even skin their corpses, collecting their organs and," In the meanwhile, a wicked, ironic chuckle escaped the blonde's rosy-coloured, dry lips as her palm slapped playfully her thigh. The slam sound mingled with her rich laugh. "I'm fucking serious, Andrea!"

"I know but your jokes have no borders." The blonde's caution vaguely disappointed him since he opted to be grave without showing any hints of sarcasm, irony even side-splitting exemplars of jokes but his weakness was to spit them out directly as poison which once tugged its serpentine tongue, heaping it for endangerments.
"Goddamn it! Where we're up to now with our discussion?"

"You said that Cayden will see who's an old whore," The prostitute mumbled the cuss since she wasn't a fan of mentioning words that were addressed to her as incarnation of her true nature. "And let's not forget you said what he does with his victims."

"Oh yeah!" Meantime, the security guard took a deep breath as a short pause before expressing his unconditional disgust, shame and detestation to the infamous serial killer. "Yuck! He's even eating their flesh and prone to cannibalism."

"That's not what Kathy and Jack should listen to once I'm about to have a breakfast with them!" The prostitute's stern, unwelcoming caution jingled a requiem in Frank's ears by biting his lip, whilst Andrea attempted to low her voice decibels since her grandchildren are nearby and whatever her lips produce as a syllable, consequently disputed on the table or being an object of embarrassing comments. "And David too. I mean the father of the kids as they don't want to hear that as if psycho stuff is on my tongue tip only." The blonde scoffed by clamping with a hand her mouth, while being incapable of suppressing the girlish, sardonic giggle.

"Well, my daughters when they used to be teenagers and heard about their mother's decease, don't ya think it was one of the nicest things to hear even being disputed? Huh?"

"No! Of course not, Frank!"

"Ah, but ya said it anyway."

"Hey!" Her austere exclaimation caught him off guard while he was scratching with his short fingernails his head, humming quietly. "And one last thing. It's a warning to your friends." The budded lump in her throat vanished in its swallow, flexing her throat muscles. "Cayden is plotting his escape from the custody and if he's seen nearby or somewhere whether Jude or Madeleine is endangered, they should keep their distances from him. His vengeance is going to be far worse from what he did to your old friend. With the attempted rape, sedating and locking her up in the attic."

"Oh! Phew! This man has big guts to escape from such a miserable place where he exactly belongs for the rest of his misery life!" Meanwhile, the former police officer sighed a sigh of relief half-heartedly by chewing on his lower lip reluctantly. "And such big guts to plan impossible things. Of course, he won't even dare to touch her or Maddie when I mop the floor with his beaten ass!"

"That's the last hope if the diplomacy doesn't work between the both sides."

"Even if ya don't want violence, Andrea, trust me, we will put him in the right track. I promise!"

--- *** ---

The wee hours of the morning were embraced by the dim sun's dirspersing saturating sun rays through the widely opened curtains in the bedroom. Pasty, lucid sky with only one, one of a kind, glimmering its golden nuances sun hovered and smiled with the gleaming sunrays at everything below. The two-story mansion. The rich, alabaster snow carpet that carpeted the stark tree branches, the flowerbeds, the roof and everything else that was immobile, incapable of moving a single muscle. The stark, grandiose trees. The Victorian style, ornamentally polished fence and gates, protecting the property from burglars and unwelcomed strangers.

An ordinary Monday morning was rather a nightmare not only for Timothy, furthermore for the former pious sister of the church since they weren't even morning people at all. Even they didn't appreciate the concept of moving any single muscle with exception of dawding to flee the slumbering paradise for everybody as soon as the weariness pinches their muscles and bones or on the contrary, that's another alternative to being found dead after dying in their own sleep. What Jude didn't like in the morning was getting up approximately in six o'clock by having a cup of coffee and afterwards getting back to work, in spite of her passion to work as a saleswoman in a flower store especially with Madeleine.

Despite the platonic circumstances, the both former members of the clergy shared a bed together without being intimate carnally at all.

Their tightly shut eyelids shielded them against the dim sunlight as its sufficiently vivacious light caressed gently their faces and hairs in its warm, comforting invisible sunny hand. Their lips elaborated muffled snores as the warm, morning breath of the former nun ventilated like light, summer breeze the former priest's face.

As soon as Jude came to her senses at last by rubbing with her fragile, petite fists her groggy eyes as if she's recently resurrected, a mere, blatant yawn flexed her lips until her vision wasn't fogged by its mistiness.

Meanwhile, her warm caramel brown with its warmest, most glowing caramel pigment, pigmenting her irises squinted up subtly at Timothy, surveying his handsome facial features when he was profoundly kipping. A relief generously contoured her facial features, sighing quietly as it was solely distinct for her. The relief's symptom was coming to the conclusion that Timothy wasn't awake yet. She really loved it when he was asleep yet. The beauty coma made him look still attractive into her eyes.

"Yar so handsome even when ya sleep. Sleep deeply!" In the meantime, the odd intention of cupping his well-defined cheek in the palm of her amusingly warm, soft just crossed her mind as if a smart ass child plotted to mess up his next door's neighbor with naughty mudding. The timidness of the cupped cheek in the palm of her hand was as ginger as the lack of intentions to wake him up. A beaming, little smile budded across her lips as recently flourished spring flowers, gemmating its fertility on the trees and bushes. "Sleep peacefully! I don't have any intentions of waking you up." At the moment, she peered over his muscly, broad shoulder to read the clock on his side's nightstand, reading it approximately "6:15am" in the morning.

"I really need to get up." Frustrated mutter flexed her jaw by releasing the younger man from her scooped embrace, subsequently wriggling as his hands which once squeezed her mid-back unhesitant, they just slipped when her wriggle efficiently manipulated its muscles. She seated on the edge of the bed by hopping up in convenient, cozy slippers.

A clean, ordinary towel was tossed on her shoulder as she tied up her hair in a high messy bun, in order to not drench any stray strand or rather the mop of strands, framing her porcelain, yet youthful complexion. Her steps up to the bathroom were as silent as an assassin, plotting his next victim's death viciously. Resilence glittered her tiptoeing until she set a foot inside the bathroom by hanging the towel on the door's hook and brushing her teeth by turning the bath's facuet, in order to, fill the bathtub with a streamy, hot water.

The motion of the toothbrush's grasp in her hands, mechanically maneuvering to scrub her front and back teeth within seconds until she turned the sink's faucet with cool water running as its submerged, throughout jabbering the water's gulp, immensing the toothbrush's froth, layering every inch of her ivory, firm teeth. In a few thrown gulps directly in the sink, her teeth were still fresh and clean again by undressing herself, allowing her flesh to breath all over again. Her underwear and old, unworn shirt of the British compatriot as former remarkable attire were hung on the door's hooks, whereas her bare, elvish feet hardly dunk by touching gingerly the streamy, hot liquid, contacting her toes as a final test before her entire body submerged in the bath.

Serenely light, nonchalant smile stretched her jaw in its mimical flex.The Bostonian was already in the bath. All naked as a newborn baby or rather, as the sinful, naïve Eve in Eden's garden. All white as the sheer angel or on the contrary, hoary scolecite. All natural since birth. All skin as no garment covered any inch or armored.

The middle-aged lady reclined on the bath, cocking back her head as a muffled, smug moan dripped from her lips as saliva. Her eyelids fluttered closed, relishing the liquid's warmness, encircling her in a genial, fresh hug.

Slough of bubbles overlayed her stark figure

Oblivion of her former lover to endanger her personal space clouded her train of thoughts just a few hours before getting back at work and seeing her protégé Madeleine. Whether issues or embarrassment, they weren't bothering the former pious sister of the church anymore especially when the bath's vaporously balmy water hexed her, sedating each inch of hers. Every brain cell. Every thought. Every prejudice. Every muscle. Every bone.

In the interval, what the former woman of the cloth could hear sufficiently audible for her sensitive ears was the masculine footsteps stomping the bedroom's flooring by ideally recognizing them where was the British compatriot's impending destination after getting from the bed and making it. The children's room or rather, in brief, Edward Ralph's lair.

When Timothy opened gently the children room's door, barely notoriously, shrillingly squaking, his coffee brown orbs landed on the crib, transifixing his acute focus on Edward by making sure he's awake which is highly possible at the moment.

High-pitched, uncontrollable, ablaze cry respired from the top of his tiny, flimsy lungs, taunting his father to approach the cot within moments without an ado.

"Daddy's coming, sunshine!" The British aristocrat's pale-pinkish lips curled in a soothingly, optimistically radiant smile, weighing his parchment, yet young-looking face. Once he stepped beside the cot, his both mammoth, secure hands took the infant in a scooped embrace to rock alleviatingly him, whereas his shrilling cries subdued. "Shhh, shh, sweet baby boy! Daddy's here which means everything is okay."

"Dada!" The infant attempted to manage his wee hand to stroke delicately his father's cheek. His big hazelish-brown pools with its haunting aura transfixed pleadingly at the former priest's softened as a loved, took care of foster puppy. What the former priest could note was the haunting aura as if partly his love interest's stares mirrored with their creation, made of their flesh and blood. Edward was indisputably not only part of his father, furthermore part of his mother either.

"Aww, sweetheart! Aren't you hungry?"

"Ya!" Timothy knew right away his rare bird was in the bathroom even postponing fleeing since she was taking a bath like almost every morning before work.

"I know, lovely cherub angel! But Mommy is in the bathroom and I promise you," As soon as the former devotional member of the clergy left his son's bedroom by rocking him to eschew him to emit another ear-piercing cry or bewail. A handful of fingers pinched his crinkled button nose at the pinch, whereas Timothy cascaded the stairs and heading towards the kitchen to feed his son with breastmilk from the baby bottle, in case, if Jude is absent and she can't feed him exceedingly prompt. "She will be here within a few minutes, while you can be feed directly from the baby bottle, Sunshine!" He emphasized the friendly nickname for Edward by pooling the kettle with fresh, lukewarm water from the turned faucet of the kitchen sink until he placed it on the hot place, whistling inwardly, reassuringly to himself and Edward by turning to him after preparing 2 empty, unused yet plain mugs for hot beverages. "Good boy! Daddy promises to get within a few minutes to check on Mommy, okay?" Meanwhile, the little boy nodded whilst suckling the breastmilk, cached in the baby bottle.

"I wonder if it's a good idea to enter in the bathroom to clean myself or brush my teeth since she should be out eventually." Allegy whispered as he walked away from the kitchen, whereas his forthcoming destination was the en-suite bathroom, linked to their bedroom. "I hope Jude is alright." He bit his lip at the thought of his rara avis once the younger man entered bluntly in the bedroom as he was met with an empty bedroom. Definitely, the former religious sister of the church hasn't even left the bathroom. "Why it takes so long to her to leave the bathroom?" He mustered with her morning baths or hot, relaxing showers though his primary needs were knocking him up, urging him to fulfil them though he would do anything for his right hand. Timothy was totally okay with Jude taking whether morning baths or showers to freshen herself and snug herself, feeling comfortable in her own skin, no matter the signs of the pregnancy and somewhat the unavoidable aging process, affecting her appearance and mentality.

What the former aspiring Monsignor did was waiting patiently in the bedroom by gawking blankly at every corner of the convenient ambience that encircled the room itself. The beginnings of romantic atmosphere was inescapably common even fogging his vision, while sitting on the armchair where a handful of his right hand's clothes proned such as a clean, new pair of sangria red underwear, a jacquard knee length flared pearl white skirt and navy blue cashmere blazer.

Once he peered over his broad, muscly shoulder to notice the pair of sangria red underwear, he swallowed hard, although his other side's blizzard of thoughts dwelled him out of the reality realm. Impure thoughts resurfaced as unbreakable icebergs in the glacial ocean.

What his brain cells crafted were galore of explicitly graphic images where he and Jude were protagonists. Protagonists in variety of erotic genres. Or rather, explicitly graphic images, where the steamy fragments were more luxurious than the sweetest, most sinful savor of liquor.

Their pale, damp lips, yearning for ferocious kiss to brush their lips' skins, hardening its kiss's intension and physical and mental pressure, inebriating them to bones. Their wet tongues dancing against one another in a delicate dance until either of their tongue plugs either of their mouths, deepening into a licentious French kiss. Her porcelain, milky as vanilla skin being donned in the sangria red lingerie, covering her intimate parts during their foreplay or as a part of their episodical seduction before jumping to the blowminding part. Widened ogle, transfixed on her half-stark petite frame, clothed in underwear as her tempting gait makes him even more unnerved, swallowing hard the budded lump, formed in his throat. Her lion mane of flossy old Hollywood gilt tresses, piled up on her shoulders as autumn leaves' rich pile framing her parchment, radiant face. She was devilishly stunning. Every stray curly aureate strand, setting her profile in a frame, glew the most vibrant light, glinting the former priest's chestnut brown, deep pools. The fiendishly seductive smile of the succubus, hugging her ravishing red lips, was his Achilles' Heel. The combination of fiendishly seductive smile, sexy sangria red underwear, long wavy, silken golden hair weren't all alone as complect of his dream woman or rather, his rara avis in the real face of her art of flirt and inveiglement. Her caramel brown pools, fueled with immense desire, delirious lust and unconditional love worshipped the eye contact with their linked eyes in unison. She looked even sexier as dominant or perhaps, she was actually the dominant. Only one God knows who's the domineering between the both. His pristine berry-coloured lips craved to capture hers in a loving, afterwards hardeningly lustful kiss. Everlasting savoring the lustful magical potion. Their skins contacting, grinding and rotating each other's hips in a rhythmical choir. Her bare, full breasts pressed to his stark, toned torso whilst riding him. Muffled, delectable moans and groans zinged their lips as zephyr. Warm breaths colliding like stormy waves in the misty nocturnal sea brushed gently their facial skins. Their breaths hitching almost breathlessly from their nostrils and from the top of their lungs. Their hearts' drums vigorously constricted their chests. Their eyelids clutch tightly shut, formed in slits shape, bearing a semblance of scars.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Timothy? She's just a friend of yours." An inner voice flooded his mind, all of a sudden, snapping him out of the reverie realm, subsequently inhabiting back the reality realm hesitantly. It felt like a sudden baby kick in a woman's bump, catching her off guard and stopping her breathing for awhile, stunning her to bones. He felt somewhat ready to be not just a mere friend of the Bostonian. In fact, his friendship with Jude is so precious for him. Even more precious than the divine dreams he once chased until his rationality made him to choose a much different direction in his life. That truly mattered to him as much as his intensifying feelings for the former pious member of the church. On other hand, he would be hurt if he violated the blonde's goodwill and privacy if he was the sole one to commit the further step in their relationship. Literally dating each other and getting laid. Timothy was just afraid of hurting her ever again and he had no intentions of repeating all over again the same bland, temerarious mistakes, molding a monotonous rhythm of pressed piano keys. He didn't want haphazardly to change his light into the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer's eyes since he gained somewhat her trust and her platonic affection after everything he did for her after Briarcliff's madness where they the least belonged.

Timothy felt like lost or kind of detrimentally melancholic if he loses and don't protect her at any cost. His solemnly, strongly took vow to protect her and keep his promise to not lose her were his very top priorities along with their compact family they shaped as team players including Edward Ralph. He didn't want their family to be separated, nor their friendship to collapse as bricks of a façade which recently were razed to basics.

"Oh Christ! I almost forgot about the coffee." He slapped immediately his forehead for his ignorant oblivion as his baby son was only in the kitchen with the boiling water for brewing black coffee.

Once Timothy fled the bedroom by descending the stairway for the first floor, he headed towards the kitchen to brew the coffee and noticed his son has already left the baby bottle with the quarter of remaining breastmilk, wiping with the back of his tiny hand his milk-stained lips.

"Dada!"

"Aww, cutie pie! I can see you've finished with your breakfast, can't I?" In the interval, whilst the coffee was brewing, the former amibitious holy man strolled up to the high chair to pinch playfully, kindly his cheeks with a handful of fingers as he yelped a babbling chuckle, repeating his babbling nickname for his father.

"Dada!"

"That means you aren't peckish anymore which relieves me."

"Mama!" Suddenly the young boy emphasized the word until an alleviating peck on his cheek alleviated his nerves and his concerns about his absent mother, sensing his father's delicate, long fingers caressing his dimple, resembling as if a mother caressed her newborn's ray of sunshine head.

"Mama is still in the bathroom though it's yet bothering me how she lingers to leave it soon." He turned to glance at the kettle with brewing coffee until it cheeps, keeping his wits about the already brewed caffeine beverage.

Within a few minutes, the former holy woman hasn't even emerged from upstairs yet after Timothy spent some time with his baby son and pouring in the mugs the hot caffeine liquids by turning the sink to water the kettle. His patience commenced to peter out gradually as if its matches' flame verges to be tossed, scorching to edges everything and ashes are the sole ruins left after the scorching destruction. It was already shortly after six and forty-five o'clock in the morning.

When he retowered the stairs and reentered the bedroom by promising his son to be right back within a few moments, a tunable, loud humming emanated from the bathroom, tinting crimsonly his cheeks with sweltering heat, crawling underneath his facial skin. In the meantime, his coffee brown orbs were darted to the bathroom door from where the melodious, silver-tongued humming taunted him as a syren's eloquent, intoxicating song, rippling the decibels guturraly to tempt the naively head over heels in love with the siren, itself, sailors until they approach them blindly and allow them to take control over their expectancies by dragging them from their boats, consequently submerging them in the mist, abysmal seas until they drown as their corpses recklessly swimming.

"Jude, the coffee is ready!" The younger man tiptoed up to the bathroom's door, seizing his lips in a thoughtful purse.

"Just a moment, Timothy!" The silver-tongued, breathtaking thrumming ceased in the vacuum when she replied him dryly, scarcely promising since she lingered to get from the bathtub.

"I'm just saying. May I enter?" Shyness lingered on his tongue as he posed the question.

"Of course, ya can! Is that even a question?" In the meanwhile, her hazelish-brown eyes were transfixed on the ajar opened door that was opening, chewing on her lower lip, subsequently suckling it with her front teeth enticingly, eager to behold his reaction to widen his eyes at the sight of her naked body, baptized in bath's water and bubbles.

As soon as Timothy entered in the bathroom by shutting the door, his chocolate brown irises landed on Judy, biting his lip by flinching when he was met with her starkness, submerged in the bathtub.

"Oh shit! Why did you lie to me?" The former holy man felt meekly tempted by the Succubus. Under her fiendish trap of her seduction. Nonetheless, the sight of her curves was contenting him at least, mildly salivating his mouth as if he's seen the most beautiful woman, in his humble opinion. Or rather, the sexiest woman according to him. His meek, bashful mumble caused the former sister of the church to not oppress irrational, uncontrollable snicker, flushing her chest. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Of course, not!" The older lady winked gamely at him, whereas he quirked his eyebrow quizzically as his heart hammered heavily, restlessly in his chest. "Tim, ya can brush yar teeth even without looking at me."

"How I'm supposed to do this?"

"Just like that. Don't focus on me as if I'm not in the bathroom."

"But you're an excellent distraction by judging the sight." In the interim, his mammoth, smooth hand fiddled the doorknob, verging to flee the bathroom within a handful of seconds, in spite of liking the sight and finding it for embarrassing. Smug grin sprouted on her pale as ghost, still youthful face as if the grin was her armor. "First and foremost, we haven't even dated. Second, we haven't even kissed. Third, you know what else." He swallowed hard, hardly catching his breath in the bathroom where it became a searing sanctuary or trap of the Succubus.

"I know, I know. Since yar so embarrassed then hold on for a few more minutes and ya can finally brush yar teeth." The Bostonian's grin ebbed off her face, softing it with an amiable, open-minded smile, sketched across her lips. "I'm really sorry for being such an asshole to convince ya to come here even when I'm almost ready with taking a bath."

"It's okay! There is no point to apologize since I didn't take the joke seriously." Lump budded in his throat, throughout contracting his throat muscles in swallow. Looking away from her by lowering his blank eyeing to the tiles flooring. "I think to leave you at peace to finish your bath and then come for coffee downstairs."

"Alright! Did ya feed Edward?" Judy inquired sternly, emphasizing their ray of sunshine's name as once the priest fled the bathroom.

"Yes, I did. He's waiting for you too downstairs."

--- *** ---

--- A Couple of Hours Later ---

The hours flew as quickly as shot lethal bullets.

Jude and Madeleine were in the small flower store in Vermont's slums by receiving per a few minutes new customers, anticipating agitedly to purchase any new flowers or plants whether for home to being look after, special occasions such as dates and romantic dinners.

Meanwhile, the radio was plugged in the plug, playing music.

"I don't know why she's ridin' so high! She ought to think twice! She ought to do right by me! Before she gets to saying goodbye! She ought to think twice, she ought to do right by me!" The Beatles' song Ticket to Ride was currently playing on the radio as the eloquent multi voice chanted the lyrics.

"Maddie, I was seriously joking with him to enter in the bathroom, while I was in the bathtub, taking a hot, streamy bath in the morning!" The older lady scoffed, her long, slim fingers absently playing with the pen with which she scribbled in the notepad the money they earned from the clients up to now after they've purchased anything from the store.

"It seems it embarrassed him." The younger woman couldn't repress inward, girlish giggle, tickling the corners of her mouth as her mentor joined her. Their chuckles vibrantly contrasted. Jude's chuckle was rueful and inward in the same time, compared to her protégé.

"For sure! But I kinda regret how he didn't get instantly the prank." Her rosy-coloured, soft as satin lips parted in the scoff, leaving aloof the pen that was fidgetly brushing her fingers idly.

"I think it might be not a prank." The Michiganian said with emphasis, casting her lowered hazelish-brown eyes with scrutiny at the notepad with the notes, curling her lips in a timorous purse. "Judy, I really can tell you seriously like him and you want to have sex with him." Her chubby, well-defined cheeks tinged slightly pinkish than the sunset's bright nuances, painting its prospect.

"That's fucking bullshit, honey! I'm not getting laid with strangers or friends. That was just a long time ago, okay?" Deep breath flushed her brittle lungs, looking away from the sheet of paper with its took notes, thus landing her honey brown pools, grimaced in ablaze glare at the young woman, whose lips popped up."And of course, I don't want to have sex with him."

"I think I'm gonna be sad! I think it's today yeah! The girl that's driving me mad is going away, yeah! She's got a ticket to ride! She's got a ticket to ride!"

"You're very good liar to confess, Jude! I didn't know the nuns are such hypocrites." The juvenile blonde's naturally rosy-coloured, plumpish lips produced the punchline of the joke, tucking a handful of silky aureate tresses behind her petite, sensitive ear gently, lovingly.

"Hey! That was pretty rude about the nuns. And let's not forget, I'm an ex-nun! I used to be a nun, Maddie!"

"Seriously? You didn't get the joke? Huh?" The juvenile saleswoman shrugged her shoulders, biting her lip as a hoarsely wry snigger clicked her tongue. "And let's continue the joke."

"Why?"

"The nuns have some kind of impure thoughts. They sin mentally not just physically. Even some of the priests are their secret Romeos."

"Maddie!"

"I'm just saying facts."

"But ya said it's a joke." The Bostonian chewed on her upper lip, huskily sniggering whilst Madeleine smugly, wickedly grinned at her.

"She's got a ticket to ride, but she don't care! I don't know why she's ridin' so high! She ought to think twice! She ought to do right by me! Before she gets to saying goodbye!"

"It's a joke eventually. But it's somewhat the truth by opening the eyes and the windows to the reality." The younger lady cleared her throat afterwards, glancing at the door and windows, in case, if a customer enters in the flower store and eavesdropping their personal conversation.

"Is anybody outside about to enter in the store?" The elder blonde muttered the question under her breath, pursing her lips.

"I don't think so which relieves me."

"Oh Christ! Sometimes it's just despising when some customers couldn't help but listen to every part of our personal conversations as if it's part of their business."

"Their business is actually to buy plants or flowers, not to be spies or secretaries."

"She ought to think twice! She ought to do right by me! She said that living with me is bringing her down, yeah! For she would never be free! When I was around!" The song was yet playing in the background.

"Exactly! So as there's a huge difference between a real business and putting yar nose in somebody else's business when it doesn't concern ya at all." The former woman of the cloth's lips instinctively popped up, exhaling sharply.

"And do not avoid the questions or implies I say!"

"Alright, alright! Don't be too stern with me!"

"I'm trying to tell the truth to you about you. Exposing your fears."

"How do you expose them? In some kind of jokes?" The former licentious jazz nightclub singer squinted up her cocoa brown irises, glinting vague irritation and sheer glee altogether.

"The life shouldn't be based on fears, dear! You should have fun. You should be more open-minded to the changes." The Michiganian cupped her cheek in the palm of her purely warm, delicate hand, looking up at the warmest hue of her cocoa brown irises, staring right at her soul with a smile. "For better, of course! So as to erase the fears by working on them as they aren't dominating your priorities and dreams."

"Mhm!" Jude bobbed in agreement, inhaling the flower cologne, waffling her nose as its emanation smeared subtly Madeleine's palms.

"You mustn't fear even from Timothy. He won't bite you. He did everything for you!"

"That's definitely true!" The former nun confirmed her words, nodding her head in strong agreement with a vague, benevolent smile honing up in the corner of her lips.

"So as he sacrificed every fragment of his bones just you and Edward to be safe and happy!" The pad of her thumb traced gingerly, featherly her perfectly shaped, swan curve of her cheekbone. Her pleasant warm breath puffing its whiff into her face. "Just think about your feelings towards him. Aren't they not only platonic?"

"Ah, she's got a ticket to ride! She's got a ticket to ride! She's got a ticket to ride! But she don't care! My baby don't care, my baby don't care! My baby don't care, my baby don't care! My baby don't care, my baby don't care!" As the song was fading off in the background due to its final phrases of lyrics, afterwards the radio shifted directly on the radio news.

"Think twice!" The former devotional sister of the church muffled a bashful whisper, gapping her lips.

"Don't bullshit with me, Jude! Once again!" The caution left her lips as if that was a last warning from the austere, unwelcoming teacher after admonishing an undilligent, disobedient student for the upcoming consequences of his actions during a class.

"The notorious Vermont serial killer, Cayden Gray was missing in his cell, according to a prison staff. The middle-aged man, known for his vicious crimes towards women and in rare cases men, is confirmed his prison break is eventually true." The radio journalist started with breaking the news as the top news was Cayden's prison break."It's confirmed he disappeared more than a few hours ago and he was lastly seen this morning in the common room with the other prisoners. At last but not least, the police started to research Vermont until they find him and lock him up behind the jail bars by awaiting up to the trial and the judge makes the final decision."

"Oh shit! This dude is out of the custody. Even if it hasn't been a week since his arrest?" All of a sudden, the both adults were all ears once they heard of the serial killer's prison break that recently the radio news has announced.

"Please, don't tell me I'm dreaming!" The middle-aged mother evoked out, nibbling on the silken skin of her plump bottom lip.

"It's worse than a nightmare, Judy! It's the crude reality."

"I think, I'll leave Vermont for a few days just to see my former mentor, because I don't feel safe anymore since this asshat is out of the custody and he's now about to chase his next victims which are probably I, ya and Timothy."

"Are you completely sure to leave Vermont just because of such a psycho?" At the moment, the former religious member of the clergy thrummed as a giant beehive her response, nodding her head humbly, docilely. "You've Timothy and friends who're always next to you and have got your back if Cayden dares to attack you."

"I really need some time to reflect and to see my former mentor more than anything. Timothy can deal by himself with Cayden."

"No, Judy! You've fully mistaken. Cayden can stab and kill him. You have to be team players against this psycho."

--- *** ---

--- Later That Night ---

The daylight hours have already died in the limbo along with the saturating pinkish and ruby sunset landscape, once airbrushing the sky until the sky suddenly darkened, replaced with darker nuances that airbrushed the prospect. The nights were colder than the daylights. Even they feudened the former priest's loneliness.

The blonde has already phoned the elder nun by informing her about her visit in Connecticut as the crucial goal of the former sister of the church was the taxi to drive her and her love child up to the train station which was a half an hour away from her new home.

Shortly after the compact family had a dinner, the British aristocrat cleaned the kitchen table and washed the already used dishes and eating tools, whereas the Bostonian went upstairs to pack certain convenient garments such as underwear, tops, slacks, skirts, dresses including baby attires, remarkable paraphernalia by storing them in her grandiose, sufficiently heavy suitcase and calling a taxi to pick her up after acknowledging where's current residence of her ex-mentor, Mother Claudia.

Once the British compatriot has finished with the housework, the two-story house became way too silent, consumed in fatal silence more than for a half an hour. Little did he know where his right hand was with their little cherub angel. The last time when he saw her was while having a dinner in the kitchen. At last but not least, Jude hasn't mooted her final decision after dinner to flee Vermont for Connecticut without any farther explaination for a few days, in order to see Mother Claudia and relax from her impure thoughts she has of the former Monsignor.

Timothy was home alone and he surveyed each room of his property to find his rare bird or his son at least, however, there weren't any tangible tracks of them. In each room, everything seemed untouched or just like when she vanished after Cayden locked her up in the attic especially in a cage. His anxiety growled in the pit of his stomach, incapable of resting for a single second unless he assimilates and acknowledges the Bostonian and Edward Ralph's recent location they aimed. Hopelessness sheathed numbly his heart as it numbly, vehemently throbbed in his chest nonetheless.

Once his rare bird was gone and witnessed the gruesome torture she's been through its stoic roller coaster, now she's dissipated not alone but with their little sweet ray of sunshine. He was more than worried for their sakes and their endangered lives. What if somebody has kidnapped them especially his rara avis, tortures her with Edward and leaves them sorely, slowly but surely suffer and die in their own envenoming pain? What if somebody suspicious has found her wandering the slums or the outskirts' streets of Vermont, beating her and her son to death?

What if a leery gang found her and dopped her even tranquilized her by barbarously raping her and their son, thereafter murdering them inhumanely?

What if they just dissipated just because of the early happened between Jude and Timothy in the bathroom?

What if an eerie stranger is driving her to anywhere by plotting her alleged kidnap?

If either of these scenarios happens to his and one of a kind Jude and their precious son, on the contrary Timothy wouldn't forgive himself for the rest of his days and his strongly, solemnly took vow would be violated than a false promise and his betrayal.

When the British compatriot stepped in the living room to watch the evening news, all of a sudden it startled him as its angst boiled incessantly into his veins, subsequently its amalgation of angst and lividness brewed and cooked inside him when his chocolate brown pools were goggled on the television screen, noting the Vermont's outskirts, taking its place of a car accident of taxi.

"A car accident befalls Vermont just hours after the vicious serial killer Cayden Gray has successfully escaped the custody. 3 people are actually involved in the car crash, as a result of 2 injured and 1, who's already passed away shortly after its incident. The injured are being transmitted to the nearest hospital to being cured for the next 24 hours until they recover from the injury." Meanwhile, the screen jumpcut to the ambulance that has arrived immediately on the accident's place, whereas the both injured victims were laid on patient beds.

"No, no! This couldn't be true!" His colossal, milky as snow hand covered his mouth outrageously mortified by tiptoeing as a shadow up to the phone to inform Frank and Madeleine about the car crash where Jude and Edward were involved, luckily, surviving, despite with severe injuries. His epidermis was blanketed in hypodermic, glacial goosebumps, whereas the back of his neck's hairs bristled, without averting his mortified gawk from the television screen, noting the unconscious blonde laying peacefully on her bed. "No!" Twin tears dripped from his eyelids as icicles, unable to wipe them, whilst his pristinely fidgety, distressed fingers dialed on the phone the former police officer's phone number.

"But the good news for now is that the middle-aged woman and her almost five-month-old baby, by judging visually his age have survived the car crash and the taxi driver, who drove them, passed away at age 38."

--- *** ---

"Jude? Edward?" Sometime later after the former ambitious holy man arrived in the hospital, whilst Madeleine and Frank haven't arrived yet, he scurried up to the registry office to ask the nurse for his former lover and their love child's patient room they're being conveyed at the moment. Meantime, Timothy breathlessly scurried until he averted for a split second his stare from the younger woman. "Good evening, ma'am!"

"Good evening, sir! What I can help you with?" The friendly nurse enquired the older man with an affable, kindhearted smile, kissing her bloody red lips by looking up at his blanched, sweaty-stained complexion.

"I'd like to know where Judy Martin and Edward Ralph Howard are."

"Judy Martin and Edward Ralph Howard, right?"

"Exactly!" The British aristocrat emphatically, hastily replied, yearning to pay a visit to their patient room they were recently conveyed after the vile car accident. In the meanwhile, the brunette's glowing emerald green irises lowered to the registry with the patients which were recently signed as a part of the facility's responsibility. Her forefinger traveled downwards to the lastly jotted patients' names by scanning them within a handful of seconds until she met Timothy's glassy, jaded stare, glistening grizzly hues and allusions of insomnia and weariness as the warmest chocolate brown pigment lost its genuine, luxurious pigment.

"They're exactly on the same floor, Mister! Room 103!"

"Alright! Thank you very much!" Shortly afterwards he resumed his destination in the scarcely crowded hospital as there were a couple of people, anticipating by seating outside the patients' rooms in the long, profound with its flickering lights hallways. "Excuse me, may I enter in room 103?" The former aspiring Monsignor questioned the doctors who just left the patient room under the number 103, darting glassily their dark eyes at the visitor.

"Sure!"

"Thank you!" Once Timothy opened in a single click the room's door by shutting it behind him, being all alone with the injured from the car crash victims, he ambled up apprehensively, grimacing his yet young-looking, fresh complexion. "Rare bird?" The younger man glanced horrifiedly at the senseless older woman, biting his lower lip fearfully. Dew of moistness deluged his fragile eyelids as crystal, bittersweet tears budded under his eyes, verging to tumble down on his cheeks. His heart ached endlessly at the sight of the former nun's unconscious body, donned in patient's rigid, shapeless gown with short ruffled sleeves and boat neckline, exposing her forearms and neck with mauve tints and bruises, whilst already dried blood on her temple with its acute reek, waffled across the former priest's sensitive nostrils. He felt like in a horror movie or a thriller by dwelling in the reality realm where the crude horrors circled him in a vicious cycle. "My little sweet cherub angel?" When he seated on the edge of his former lover's bed, he begun delicately, dotingly to stroke their heads, consequently peppering the tops of their heads and bruised cheeks with feather, loving kisses. Timothy had no intentions to wake them up. They were unconscious just for now. They deserved to rest. The British compatriot sensed his heart cracked as its scattered trillions of glass, flimsy pieces sheeting the chaos. He was praying his heart out to be still alive and most of all, to not dive their train of thoughts and precious memories in the limbo. His mammoth, amusingly warm hands brushed faintly, warily their cheeks without tracing and indicating the damage of the car crash, affecting their bruises and injures. "I don't know why you were about to leave me again, however, I'm so scared to lose both of you especially you, my rara avis!" The younger man leant against her as his pale-pinkish, soft as velvet lips captured her bruised lip, savoring the dry blood and the debauched sweetness of the kiss and platonic lust.

What Timothy hoped more than anything was Edward and Jude to come to their senses whether sooner or later even enquire her over her plotted disappearance for a few days, barely knowing her intentions of visiting the old pious sister of the church since they haven't seen each other for a long time. Not just decades. It just a few years or almost a year.

When he broke off the kiss, his face withdrew with a couple of inches from her palish, unhealthily mauve tinted complexion without disturbing her anymore. He could spend the eternity, sitting on the edge of her patient bed without averting his gazes from her and his son as a Grim Reaper, nevertheless, he'd rather prefer be with his small family rather than eat or drink anything. He deeply cared more about Jude and Edward's welfare and health conditions rather than anything else in this world. It would haunt him for the rest of his life the devilish shadows and demons if he loses either of them at least. His mammoth, soft as baby skin hand yet caressed, played with her crispy greasy, unkempt mop of coppery golden curls, ruffled on the cotton, comfortable pillow. His cocoa brown orbs fell on the monitor, indicating her heart pulse along with his son, keeping his wits about their current condition until something urges their endangered lives. 

Author's Note: What are your thoughts on Jude leaving for Mother Claudia, her ex-mentor, in order to see her? Is it some kind of an escape from that awkward, scoffing situation in the bathroom where she ushered Timothy to enter? Or rather, that's an escape from Cayden since his escape was recently announced? Or both? Do you think Jude and Edward will be still alive and come to their senses sooner or later?

 I hope you liked and enjoyed this chapter as well! I'd like to apologize if I update it slightly late along with Without You, nonetheless I'm going to focus on Without You by finishing it these days pronto, whilst the new chapter of Wings of Light is the next week!