Page 6 of Sinister Savior

“If I tell you to run, you run, okay?” My voice, barely above a whisper, makes her shudder. But she nods at me and follows as we enter the back hallway.

The first thing I notice is the pungent aroma of human blood. It’s a very distinct smell, metallic and sweet. Unless you’ve killed someone and come back later to dispose of a body, you won’t understand, but it’s strong. Alice covers her nose and we creep farther into the house. There is a plant stand on its side, and a pool of sticky, coagulated blood is on the ground next to a splintered door, corroborating Alice’s story.

She whimpers as we step over it and find the opposite end of the hall. Here is where the chaos begins. Cushions on the furniture have been sliced open, filling thrown everywhere. Not a shelf or drawer is left unturned. Books, magazines, and papers are strewn about everywhere. There is a bottle of whiskey lying on its side almost empty, another sticky puddle beneath it. That matches the hint of alcohol on her breath last night.

“They’re gone,” I tell her, now moving more quickly through the rest of the house. I check every room to make sure there isn’t a lingering presence, but for now, we’re alone.

“What the hell did they do?” she asks, then instantly covers her mouth again. “Sorry…”

“Using language doesn’t affect me, dear. I used to be the king of the word ‘fuck’.” I smile at her for an added benefit, and she chuckles. It’s good to see her smile, especially in this circumstance, surrounded by the torn remains of her home. Even the walls have been smashed in places, hollowed out as if they were searching for something—the money that her husband stole and hid somewhere, I’d assume.

“They destroyed this place. It really gives credence to my self-defense claim if they come after me.” She picks through the debris carefully, unearthing a small photo album. Dusting the cover, she sighs and tucks it under her arm. “I have a few things in the bedroom I want to get, and some clothes. We probably shouldn’t stay long. If someone is watching this place, they’ll swarm us. I just get so afraid?—”

“Go on. I’ll watch things.” I wave her off and survey the damage. My brother’s crew really did destroy the place. They must believe the money is hidden somewhere here. If Alice knows where it is, she isn’t letting on. I could care less about it, but it will continue to pose a problem for her until it’s found, whether or not we return it.

I move toward the hallway again and stare at the splintered door. A rolling pin lies on the ground next to it, probably what was used like abattering ram to smash the wood panels out. The bullet holes don’t lie, either.

From what I can tell, she was on the other side of this door feeling afraid for her life and shot through it. Whoever was on this side lost a lot of blood, and my assumption is that he is long gone. The cleaners didn’t bother to clean anything, or my brother never called them. Chances are he told the police he has on payroll to listen for a call and be the first to respond here. They’ve swept it under the rug to give themselves more time to hunt for her. I’m guessing the money isn’t here anyway, but they’ll be back to search more.

“Alice?” I ask, hearing noise up the hallway.

She pokes her head out the door of her bedroom and I see her frown. “My cat is gone. I think he jumped out the window.”

But as she withdraws into the room, a shadow appears out back. I rush up the hall and stand in the bedroom doorway. I don’t have any weapon or way to defend myself or Alice, except my fists, which are bared and ready. The man, one of my brother’s henchmen whom I know very well, walks right into the house carrying a crowbar and notices me instantly.

“Mario?” He moves into the house deeper, and I step into the hall hoping Alice doesn’t follow.

“Get out of here, Killian. You have no business here.” My chest puffs out. I can’t stop it. It’s muscle memory, years of conditioning that returns in an instant. Like training a military person goes through. You can’t forget this shit. It’s in your blood and rises to the surface without notice.

“Paolo’s gonna kill you, man. Don’t get in my way. Don’t make me have to hurt you.” He comes closer to me, and I take a step toward him. His expression is hard and angry. I know he means what he says.

“I asked you nicely to leave. This isn’t your property.” I don’t want an altercation, but I won’t back down from one. If he sees Alice, he’ll stopat nothing to get her. They won’t just kill her, either. They’ll take her back to Paolo’s warehouse and torture her until she coughs up the location of the money, which she probably doesn’t have.

“Stay out of this, homey. I’ll let it slide that you’re here. I won’t tell your brother I saw you.” I take one more step, but I can’t back down. I can’t let these men think I’m a pushover or they’ll never back down. They’ll come back for me then.

“Get out,” I say firmly, but he raises the crowbar.

“Have it the hard way.”

Killian swings the metal bar hard, and instead of dodging it or blocking the blow with my arms, I wait until the timing is correct and I catch it in my hand. The strike hurts. I haven’t fought in hand-to-hand combat in years, but I’m still a formidable force. I pull him toward me hard using the crowbar as leverage, and when he stumbles forward, I slam my head into his.

He sways, slamming into the wall as I pull the crowbar from his hand easily and throw it out the back. As he slides down the wall, Alice lurches through the doorway and gawks at me. “Father Clemmons. Are you okay?” Her gasp of fear is met with a surge of energy on my part.

Killian pushes himself up, grunting with effort, but I knee him in the face. He’s heard my name, and I’m sure he will put it to memory. I should have warned Alice not to call me that, but it’s too late for that. Regret is all I have now.

“We have to go. Do you have what you need?” I turn to her as Killian slumps to the floor, knocked out cold.

Alice nods at me and stares at the unconscious man in her hallway. If I were alone I’d take him out right now. I can’t afford any trails back to me. But I’m not who I used to be. I have to remind myself of that. I left that life behind and it has to stay behind. I am not a killer. I’m a priest.I am the one who is helping Alice, not the monster who is chasing her and scaring her.

I take her hand and pull her out the back door, but halfway to the van she stops and begins sobbing. I pull her against my chest, feeling strong feelings toward her that I shouldn’t. This intimate bond we’re creating, sharing trauma and forging our hearts together in the process, is something I can’t stop. I can’t pull away. All I can do is comfort her.

“They’re never going to stop.”

“They want the money, that's all. They may stop if they get the money.” I soothe her, caressing her hair and back.

“I don’t know where it’s at. I don’t know what Tom did with it.” She shakes in my arms, clinging to me. And when she looks up at me, I have an overwhelming urge to kiss away those tears. She doesn’t deserve this. She deserves better. In fact, for all her trouble, she deserves to keep the money and run.

I restrain myself, though, remembering my oath to remain celibate. “We have to go now. Who knows if they’ll come looking. They know my name now, so this isn’t good.” I rush her, moving swiftly toward the van. I have to make a new plan. One that involves getting us away from any place associated with the name “Father Clemmons”. Then I need help. My former contacts are still active. I can’t do this alone. They’ll come full force now, and I have to be ready.

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