Page 9

The first time I ‘met’ you, I was trying to save a boy from overdosing. (You’ll see that for yourself when you read my note.) Today, I’m trying to save a girl from beingabused by her father and the news broke about your liberation.
I’m starting to believe you are a sign that I’m on the right path, but that is a conversation for another time.
Tonight, I pray that you eat well. That you breathe easier. That you sleep and begin the path to healing yourself. You deserve to find peace.
Andrea Jura
CHAPTER 5
From the desk of Andrea Jura
HANOVER, NEW HAMPSHIRE
Dear Father Savio,
It’s Andrea Jura again. Do you even know who I am? I wrote you a letter before but you might not have received it. I asked my priest to send it to you, but whether he did or didn’t depends on how much of the communion wine he drank that day.
I wish I knew if you received my last letter or if you’ll open this one, but even if you ignore them both, I’ll still write to you.
These letters are becoming a quasi-confession of sorts.
Not that I place the burden of absolution on you. I don’t go to church anymore. I stopped a long time ago, when the hypocrisy of it burned me up inside. Your plight only rammed things home, but I’ve been a Catholic for too long—that guilt never fades.
Today is a good day.
I’ve found my calling.
Is this ardency, I wonder, how it feels when you decide to become a priest?
When you ‘become’ your vocation?
My mother is a doctor so she has one, and my father is a soldier—it’s why my letters always come from different places. Or, used to, I suppose. I’m no longer an army brat—I graduated. I’ve seen vocations in action and I’m certain that is what I’m experiencing now, but mine is unlike my mom or dad’s.
I’m certain you’ll think I’m crazy, but even so, you’re the only person I trust with this information. I think this goes deeper than a ‘calling.’
I’m Nephilim.
The child of a Watcher.
I See what others are blind to. Act when others are stagnant. Fix what others broke.
It’s why, whenever I see your face, it’s as if God’s steered me onto the right path.
I am His hand on Earth. Just as you are.
For my charge, I did something bad again.
There’d be no absolution for this sin anyway because I don’t repent.
I ruined the life of my town’s mayor today. There’s a lightness in my heart because he was the worst type of man. He hurt his daughter. Abused her. Destroyed her. But I stopped that.
I noticed when no one else did.
And I brought about his end.
Men like that… they collect. Don’t they?
So, here’s my confession, Father. You can judge whether or not it IS a sin.