Page 77 of The Sinner and the Scholar
My eyes roll down to the pocket watch in my blood-stained hand. My uncle had also been researching Lilith—a woman who wanted revenge against Adam. Who had a vendetta against men.
My uncle’s greatest regret was when his wife left him. He always said it was his stubborn pride that sent her away. I remember feeling so sorry for him. He seemed lonely, despite having me in his life, despite buying pets to fill the void. But he also seemed to be so powerless to change it. To ask for forgiveness.
A rotten smell makes me gag, and I think it’s me. Vepar spreads pestilence. Her power in this realm is getting stronger, which means the first harbinger of the apocalypse might already be here too. I thought the demon inside Prue was just another minion, but what if… what if it’s not. What if it’s Pestilence itself?
Twenty-Five
Thea
My training as a killer allows me to shove all the confusion swirling in my heart and put it in a box. Right now, I need to get that staff.
Stabbing Wesley was a mistake. I made sure to keep away from his vital organs, but I hadn’t planned on him dealing with whatever the fuck Vepar had done to him.
Fucking stupid name for a demon.When I see it again, I’m going to destroy it.
A sense of foreboding follows me as I scale the fence to the museum. Shipping containers from renovation construction give me the perfect cover as I wait and look at my smartwatch. Two more minutes should do it.
While we scoped out the place today, I texted the girls to see what else they’d come up with as a strategy for the heist. Mercy’s suggestion of flashing my tits had evolved into seducing the guards. Leila wanted me to walk in guns blazing—smash and grab style. Raven said to trust my instinct, which I, in turn, said wasn’t very practical, so she suggested poisoning them through the ventilation system. Tawny mumbled something about maybe doing it tomorrow after a good sleep but then said, “You got this.”
Ultimately, we went for my plan of a city-wide power outage, so it doesn’t look like the museum is targeted. We have a network of contractors and mercenaries we hire, and a fire at the local power station is the perfect job for them. Money has already exchanged hands—or rather, untraceable bank accounts, and all I have to do now is wait.
Easier said than done when Wes is lying in an alley not far away, potentially bleeding to death because I had to go full assassin on him. I mean, why couldn’t I have just tied him up or some shit? He can’t beat me in a fight. When he overpowered me on the plane, I intended it to happen. I let him.
So why was I even worried that he would overpower me now?
I know why, but I refuse to acknowledge it.
Not until I return to him with the staff.
Museum and street lights go out. A message on my smartwatch confirms the job at the power station is done. I scale the wall closest to me until I’m on the roof, then pad across to the glass court. It was meant to be a conservatory once upon a time, but now it gives me the most accessible opportunity to get inside through its domed glass roof. I pull a glass cutter from my backpack, apply the suction cup, and cut along one of the panes held together by a steel web.
Once the piece of glass pops out, I realize how small the space is to squeeze through. I guess this is where being a woman comes in handy, and another reason why the Hildegard Sisterhood was created generations ago. Women are often underestimated because of our soft bodies and strong emotions. But if we don’t listen to the ones underestimating, and we keep asking questions, then we hold power in our grasp.
Always question.
I learned that during training with theonna-bugeishain Japan. They originated from the female samurai but now exist in secret like us. Despite specializing in defensive martial arts, they are witty and sharp. They use the advantage of being overlooked. Once, my sensei had me spend an entire day running up the temple steps to fill a bucket with water using only a teaspoon. If I drank from the supply, the exercise would only take longer. So I went thirsty. When night came, and I finally filled the bucket, she kicked it, so it spilled down the steps.
“Why?” I exclaimed. “Why did you make me do that only to spill it?”
She shrugged. “I was bored. Perhaps you should have asked this question at the start, yes?”
When I didn’t respond, she rapped me over the head and said, “Best defense is to always question.”
Wes is suffering because I should have kept asking questions until I found the right answers.
Exhaling, I push the destructive thoughts away. They keep creeping back in. No one has affected me like this before. It’s borderline obsessive, and it’s also cracking the cage around my heart open and making me feel things I’ve only dreamed of as a little girl.
I tie a rope around my waist and secure the end to the broken steel frame of the support triangle. I squeeze myself through and lower to a tall, wooden totem pole in the courtyard.
After detaching from the rope, I leave it dangling for my escape and shimmy down the rest of the pole. It takes a matter of seconds, but I shouldn’t dilly-dally. A backup generator will likely be up and running soon, meaning mainstream security measures will come online. The alarm might also be battery-operated, and if that’s the case, there will be casualties regardless of my plan.
I’d have scoped the place out properly if I had more time.
I hasten my steps and make a beeline for the room that holds the staff. As it did this morning, the relic calls to me. I didn’t tell Wes about this sensation, but the relic called my name without speaking. Raven says she gets vibes from objects or mystical energy readings. When I exited the museum, it was like I had left a part of my soul inside. Like it’s also a part of me that needs to come home.
A buzzing, excited energy rolls over my skin when I reach the room holding Byzantine relics. I shiver at the force. It’s almost like the staff is rejoicing at my proximity. And it’s stronger than before. This isn’t my imagination the second time. I’m linked on an intrinsic level to this long wooden rod carved with ancient glyphs.
This is fate.
