Page 26 of Sinner
“Getting these children to safety,” Mary replied and relieved the man of the baby. She clipped him into a baby seat then ushered Flint to help her get the rest into a seatbelt.
The security guard shared a concerned glance with his partner. “I’m going to radio this in. This isn’t procedure.” With his hands now free, the guard twisted to speak into his shoulder mic.
The second guard’s head swiveled from Mary to Flint, to an equally surprised Sister Josephine. Then he darted a glance at the lift. “I’m going back for the kid.” He disappeared into the same stairwell Flint had climbed earlier.
“I’ll go back for Despair,” Flint said to her, in the privacy of the van. “Get to her before the guard.”
“No,” she replied. “These seven are our priority. The fewer guards here, the fewer I have to hurt for us to get away.”
“But, Mary. You can’t possibly—”
“Why are you wearing those black clothes, Sister?” The guard’s voice elevated from outside. “I don’t think these children should leave the compound. The boss wouldn’t like that. Stop strapping them in.”
Mary shifted past Flint and got out of the van to respond. “It’s not safe here. You saw what happened up there. If they’ve survived, it would be a miracle.”
When Flint went over the plan in his head that day, it had not gone like this. It had been a series of reactions, prompted by well thought out actions. Zeros and ones. If this… then that. Logic. That was the way of programming. That was how things should go.
But this was not ordered. It was chaos.
Flint secured the last strap on the child and gave him a bottle he had waiting on the seat. He handed the smaller girl her toy cat and the bag of toys to the eldest to distribute. He gave the potted bonsai to the boy with long, auburn hair.
The eldest children did their best to console the youngest, each pitching in to help. They were a tight knit family. His chest clenched at the missing child, and he hoped, in his heart, that she had saved herself. Perhaps she’d crawled into the shelter of a cupboard or something.
He pulled out his cell and checked the camera feed from upstairs. They had shorted out, just like he’d planned. For once he wished that his gadgets didn’t work. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and counted to ten. He had to trust Mary.
Flint got out of the car and gestured for Sister Josephine to stand to the side with him. “We’ll take it from here,” he said to her quietly. “The Hildegard Sisterhood have everything planned.”
Her eyes widened.
“Your colleague over there is… what is the word she used—”
“A Sinner,” the sister whispered, nodding emphatically. “I can tell from her uniform.”
Flint blinked. “You know?”
“Everyone in the Sisterhood knows about the Sinners. We don’t know exactly who they are or what they do, but we understand they exist. They sacrifice their souls so the rest of us may flourish. Anything you need, I’ll do.”
“Why don’t you go out the exit ramp and wait for the Fire Department on the street. They’ll need someone to brief them. Minus the sinner business.” The word left a bad taste in Flint’s mouth. She wasn’t a sinner. Not to him. She was a hero. A saint.
“Of course.” The Sister left, giving Mary a curt nod of respect as she passed.
Flint met Mary where she stood near the guard at the end of the van. She straightened herself. It was the first chance Flint had to closely inspect her Sinner uniform. Black, sleek, stretchy. Dark hair braided. Fists strapped like a boxer. Made for action. Made for silent nights, and dark things. Except the slash of red at her throat—the scarf pulled down over her neck. That was a promise of death.
But it was more than the uniform. A change had come over Mary. The soft, sexy, cheeky women he’d fallen for over the past two years was replaced with a cold, hard lethal weapon. Eyes full of danger watched the remaining guard.
The sound of screeching tires echoed in the parking garage. Lights flashed in the darkened area. Two black SUVs sped toward them.
While the guard inspected the approaching vehicles, Mary quietly lifted her red scarf to cover her mouth and nose. She turned to Flint.
A simple look, that’s all that passed between them, and his heart almost surged out of his chest. Something was about to happen. Something dangerous. Deadly.
Mary closed the rear sliding door on the van. “Get in the car, Flint. Start the engine.”
Shit. Fuck.
His blood turned cold, but he trusted Mary. He opened the driver side door.
“Step away from the vehicle,” the guard said, unclipping his gun. He pointed the barrel at Flint, but his wary eyes darted to Mary, latching onto her new face scarf.
“You will not shoot with children in the van,” Mary said, voice muffled through the fabric.
“I know how to aim, ma’am. I can take you out without hurting them.”
The SUVs pulled to a stop, and an army of soldiers jumped out.
“Flint,” Mary repeated, never taking her eyes off the guard. “Get in the car.”
He hesitated. There were so many guns.
“Now,” she barked.
