Page 16 of The Sinner and the Scholar
We don’t reply because we know it is true. It still doesn’t help our pride to say it out loud. Something big is coming, and we’re powerless to stop it.
We’ve been trained to use men, overcome them, and be better than them. Now we have to lie down and show our bellies to them. It’s not in our blood to submit.
“The Vatican has selected this group to support our systems already in place. I’ve been assured they will not replace us.” The Rev lifts her chin. “Believe me when I say they will dance to the beat ofourdrum, not the other way around. But first, we must learn. We must be smart. We must ask questions.” She stands slowly, her old bones creaking, and she points at the ancient mark. “This is how we learn. Let’s begin our research. Look for anything similar in the old Sumerian texts. Scatter.”
I stare at her for a moment longer than necessary, wondering how she became so wise. What’s her story? What brought her to this life?
She waves her hand, and the Sinners move, each taking a corner of the archives to scour while I remain.
The Rev meets my steady gaze. “Now, what’s this about crows?”
The fight leaves my body. I frown, remembering my eerie feeling, the birds, the symbol that was there and then wasn’t. It’s possible I hallucinated it in my exhaustion, maybe a little PTSD. But the crows… they were real. Wesley saw them.
“Crows,” I reply. “A murder of them pecked the bathroom window until it broke.”
She picks up the scorched card with arthritic fingers. “And this?”
“Wesley threw it at the birds. A bright light exploded like a firecracker, and then the crows left.”
“Probably some kind of gunpowder,” Leila suggests as she returns with a book.
I throw up my hands. “Right? That’s what I said.”
The Rev inspects other items on the table. None of them I recognize. New books and new relics. I shift a tiny wax stick labeled with arcane symbols.
“This is their stuff,” I note, a slow smile stretching my face. “You’re snooping.”
“Well…” She sniffs with a shrug. “They leave their things there for all to see.”
When I walked up the stairs, I missed the boxes, trunks, and suitcases on the landing. A used lock pick set is on the carpet by an open trunk that’s been dragged halfway to this table.Right… left for all to see.
“Anything interesting?”
“Plenty,” she replies. “Only we don’t know what it means.”
My shoulders slump. “So, we really need them.”
Intelligent eyes study me. “You tell me. What happened on your mission with the unholy one? Why was his blood all over you?”
I shake my head, going cold with the memory. “He looked normal. Gross, seedy, lecherous… but normal. When he saw the crucifix, he hissed and then… and then I saw it”—I swallow—“the demon. It’s… soevil. A suffocating presence.” I pause, trying not to let the terror enter me, and realize all other Sinners are back at the table listening. “If Father McBride hadn’t blessed that table of weapons before I’d gone, I don’t know what would have happened. I stabbed the demon with a sanctified dagger, and his chest exploded. The presence burst out.”
“You think the blessing exorcised him?”
“Not sure. It seems a little too convenient. I don’t think exodus from a knife wound is normal. I think I got lucky.” The man… not so much.
“The sooner we accept the olive branch from Team Saint, the better for all of us,” the Rev says.
“I know.” I rub my temples. “I know.”
“I need to meet with the Monsignor and Father McBride.” She touches me gently on the shoulder, her eyes softening. “Will you be okay?”
The compassion this Rev shows us is astounding. No other in my history here has been as forgiving, kind, and equally determined. It’s rare. If I’m honest with myself, it’s purely because of her that I haven’t followed in Alice’s footsteps and left the Sisterhood altogether. She found a loophole to escape despite the death sentence decreed for any deserter. I’m sure I can too.
But I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. Reading books and sipping wine from a porch with a puppy running about seems like a good fantasy until I think about how utterly alone I would be.
Our organization has remained in the shadows since the Middle Ages. The Vatican itself only discovered us a few years ago. The larger world has no idea we—or Team Saint—exist. It’s not like I’d have skills I could transfer to another job.
I nod and give the Rev an empty smile. She leaves, hobbling on her cane, with one last worried glance tossed over her shoulder at me.
