Page 46 of The Reaper

It wasn’t safe there anymore. I grabbed a bag from my closet and crammed it with extra guns, ammo, clothes, and stacks of hundred-dollar bills. After tossing my phone and the watch into the wooden bowl on the counter, I bailed.

Twenty-Three: The Priest

My hands were clammy and my whole body was sweating while I waited in the receiving hall of the archbishop’s mansion. I’d been waiting for almost two hours and had yet to be brought inside the office. Why would they have me come in early if they planned on keeping me waiting? I pulled Archer’s leather jacket off to prevent myself from overheating. This was ridiculous. I wasn’t here to be reprimanded but to discuss my mission. Nothing more, nothing less. I stood, fanning my face with my hand. Breathe, Heath. You’ll be fine. They don’t know what you’ve done.

The ride with Archer momentarily distracted me from obsessing over this meeting. It’d been the most fun I’d had in years.

My phone pinged with a text notification from a number I didn’t recognize. Hey Heath, this is Archer. Use this number instead. What happened to his phone? I was getting ready to respond when the door opened.

A man wearing a black cassock headed in my direction. “Father Saint James?”

“Yes.”

“The archbishop is ready for you,” he said. “Follow me, please.”

I grabbed my bag, sliding Archer’s jacket between the loops.

“How was your trip?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

“It was fine. It was a miracle I made it here on time considering the short notice.” It was meant as a joke, but I was still bitter about the entire ordeal. What if Archer hadn’t been around? Would they have come to see me instead? I doubted it.

“You know the Church. Everything is urgent,” he said.

“That I know very well.”

He ushered me inside another waiting area, this one with a door guarded by two men. “Wait here,” he said before disappearing behind the guarded door.

Awkwardly, I stood in the middle of the room. Remembering to send a quick text to Archer, I typed Sounds good before silencing my phone.

The door opened moments later. “They’re ready,” the man announced.

Narrowing my eyes, I stepped forward. “They?” I asked when I reached him.

“Yes.” He gestured for me to enter the room, closing the door firmly behind me.

I was greeted by three leaders of the Church when I entered the stuffy office. The walls were covered with oil paintings depicting the teachings of Jesus Christ. The purple velvet curtains were drawn closed, with only two lampshades illuminating the dim room. In front of a framed map of the Old World was Archbishop Lloyd, who was wearing a white alb finished with a red and gold chasuble. Two other priests in the same regalia sat on either side of him.

“Please,” Archbishop Lloyd said, motioning to the chair across from him.

“Thank you,” I said. I sat and kept my hands under the polished wooden table. I noted that I was sitting by myself and tried to ignore the intimidation.

“Has Andrew contacted you?” one of the men asked.

I thought about how to answer the question. I received a phone call from his number, but that was the extent of my communication with him. “No, I haven’t spoken to Andrew,” I answered. “I’m sorry, we haven’t met …?” I asked, my eyes bouncing between the two unfamiliar men.

“I’d like you to meet Cardinals Lopez and O’Brien,” the archbishop said.

“Pleased to meet you.”

They responded with a nod, glancing at the archbishop in synchrony.

“Have you heard from him?” I asked, assuming Andrew would’ve tried to reach them too.

“No communication from him recently.” Archbishop Lloyd slid a tablet across the table, the subject of Andrew apparently dropped. “Details of your mission.”

I tapped the screen to life and brought it closer to my face when it asked for facial recognition. A single folder named Boston Project was on the home screen. I scrolled through the file, keeping a neutral face, taking steady breaths. My hands trembled when an image of Archer and I standing an inch apart, Archer’s tongue about to lick my earlobe and my face flush with barely disguised lust, stared back at me.

Oh no. Oh no no no no no …

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