Page 15 of The Sinner and the Scholar
“How could you have been investigating demonic activity,” I say, “when the rift to the hell dimension was closed a few months ago.”
My words break whatever spell had frozen him. “Bloody hell, Thea. This activity has been increasing for years. That rift wasn’t the first.”
Something stills inside me. Something dark, insidious, and afraid. I lock it away.
“So why come here then?” I flash my eyes. “Why not stay where you’re wanted?”
His long lashes lower, shadowing his eyes. A flash of defiance is all I get before he shuts down his expression. He pauses at the doorway and looks back. “I’ll see you for tomorrow’s class.”
“I thought we were discussing the merger.”
“It’s already done. We begin teaching you everything we’ve learned. And you’re welcome.” He gestures at the window, to the black feathers caught in the broken glass.
I have nothing to throw, so I flip up my middle finger.
Emotion dances in his eyes. I can’t tell if it’s humor or a challenge. Like he’s about to attack me to prove he can dominate after all. Something about that thought shoots heat into my lower belly, and I’d love him to try.
“Miss Thea.” His respectful goodbye nod is contrary to the sarcasm in his tone.
I slam the door after he leaves, hating what passed between us. He pushed my buttons, and I lost control. He invited himself in and now probably thinks he saved the day. I would have been fine on my own. I always am. A frustrated sound rips out of my throat, and I stomp to the mirror to check my shoulder.
He’s right. The symbol. It’s definitely gone.
Seven
Thea
Dressed in black activewear, spectacles on, and still exhausted, I board up the bathroom window. Once done, I notify our custodian to organize repairs. The nuns residing here are multitalented. They cook, clean, garden, heal, and fix shit. We help them when we do our penance… if we have time. If we don’t, we choose the faster, more painful route in the Sin Bin.
When I’m done, I head straight to the archives to confront the Reverend Mother.
The archives take up most of the level. If it’s not bookcases filled with ancient tomes and manuscripts, it’s tables set out for reading them. The reliquary on one side is where we lock away artifacts entrusted to the Sisterhood over generations and from around the world, dating back to medieval times. Next to the reliquary are rooms used for meetings and classes. The frosted windows are dark and dormant because we haven’t taken on a new generation of Sinners since the current Rev came on board.
Activity surrounds a single archive table located in a vast space between two sets of stacks. It seems like the others had the same idea as me. They surround the Reverend Mother and the severed hand, now in a sealed plastic bag. Other strange items, books, and relics are there too.
I pass a cart with items needing to be shelved. Among them is my lost manuscript. I snatch it up, still bristling from my encounter with Wesley, and hug it to my chest.
Whoever cleaned my room should have left the book with my belongings. I’m not done studying the half-empty pages. They don’t make sense. Who would create pages half filled with an unknown language?
I meet the Sinners at the table and slam my manuscript down. The only person who jumps is the Rev. The rest probably sensed my arrival when I stepped onto this floor.
The Rev removes her spectacles and uses them to point at the symbol on the hand, then looks at me.
“He’s right,” she says. “It’s ancient Sumerian.”
I ground my teeth. “Healso burst into the bathroom—uninvited—and threw this at a bunch of damned crows trying to peck their way in.”
I toss the scorched white card, which bounces off the hand and lands on the table.
“Ah, yes.” The Rev puts her spectacles back on and inspects the card. “I believe this is what one of the classes will be about tomorrow.”
“Classes?” Leila balks. “As in academic?”
Raven folds her arms. “Fuck that bullshit.”
Tawny agrees. As does Mercy, now in decent clothes. I search the floor—Prudence isn’t here. She’s been distant since she was rescued from the Cartel a few months ago. Understandably so. We still have hope that she will recover. In the meantime, we give her as much space as we can, but I’m wondering if there’s more I can do. I miss her sassy prankster side.
“Need I remind you, girls,” the Rev points out, “that we’ve been floundering since demonic activity began? We’re taking stabs in the dark. Nothing we do works. And it’s getting worse.”
