Page 50 of The Sinner and the Scholar
“They’re not.” One day they’ll find out I’ve used their resources to learn everything I shouldn’t. But until that day, I’ll keep doing what I’m doing. If it gets us closer to helping Zeke, I’m okay with that. If it helps me stop demons from hurting others, even better.
“It looks like the trap you drew for Prue.”
“There’s a lot I can teach you, Thea.”
She becomes silent, absently tracing my palm. Tingles spark throughout my body. She holds words for ransom, and I can’t for the life of me guess what I can pay to make her give them to me. My mind returns to the welts I glimpsed on her back that first day in the bathroom. I flip our hand positions so it’s mine gripping hers. I brush my thumb along the soft pulse point at her wrist.
“Thea,” I murmur, looking deeply into her eyes. “What is it?”
“What if…” she whispers. “What if the demonic mark isn’t burned off or destroyed? What if it disappears on its own? Will it return?”
I check the charm on her neck and exhale. She shouldn’t be in trouble as long as she keeps it on. But why would she ask that?
“Do you have a mark, Thea?” I force my voice to remain steady.
Fear flickers in her eyes. I don’t think someone like her shows it often.
“I can help,” I urge. “I’ll keep it between us, I promise.”
“Not even my sisters,” she says.
“Not even them.”
“Remember the mark I carved?” she confides. “You said the crows were a harbinger. I… the mark was on my back, and then it wasn’t. I’m afraid…”
I frown. “I didn’t see a mark on your shoulder. Perhaps you imagined it.”
“Will you check for me?” The whisper is barely audible. “Just in case?”
“Of course.”
She faces the window and unzips her hoodie before slipping it off her shoulder. She’s left in a tight t-shirt but doesn’t remove it. She pulls her long hair out of the way until I’m left with a delicate neck. My thumb brushes the goosebumps on her skin. She’s nervous.
I also remember the fear of not knowing if something evil is inside you—it eats at you. You obsess so much that you start to wonder about reality.
Keeping my breath steady, I tug Thea’s collar to expose more of her shoulder.
“This side?” I ask.
She nods. Her breath hitches under my touch. My fingers run along the shoulder blade, testing the skin for bumps or abnormalities. The light is low, and I should switch on my phone light, but I don’t want to draw any more attention to us in the back. The mark should be evident to the eyes and through touch.
There is no mark.
Only faded flogging welts that incite rage in my blood. She flinches at my touch, and I want to murder the person who put them there. Itmusthave been from someone at the abbey. That they punish her in one breath and then send her to sin in another boggles me. But I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. The church has been full of contradictions since the dawn of its existence. I’ll get the story out of Thea eventually. And when I do, I’ll find that person. I’ll…
I’ll what? Put scars on them?
My protective reaction is instinctive. But illogical. Probably borne of the unplanned intimate moments we’ve shared, the turmoil she creates in my heart, and the guilt over knowing my impending betrayal will cause her more pain.
I want to kiss the smooth skin between her old welts. Touching her makes me feel the opposite of how I felt in the asylum. Inexplicably, she’s the holy light scaring away the evil. She shivers beneath me, but she doesn’t pull away. She leans back into me as though she craves this connection as much as me. If we were anywhere else, anyone else, I’d slide my hands around her and hold her until her trembling subsides.
The cab driver looks at us in the mirror.
I tug Thea’s shirt up and slip her hoodie back on, glaring at the driver until he slides his attention back to the road.
I wait for a breath, then say to Thea, “There’s nothing there. You’re safe.”
Yes, she can take care of herself, but I told her she doesn’t have to do it alone. At first, it was just a way to get her to trust me. Desperation. To continue the toxic game she started with our bodies in the archives. But an ache in my chest says otherwise.
