Page 8 of The Sinner and the Scholar
The Reverend Mother stares at the limo. “Team Saint.”
My stomach bottoms out. “As in,theSaints?”
The Vatican’s male versions of us? They’re even more covert than their secret service, The Entity.
“One and the same,” she grinds out.
The plump male driver exits and moves to the rear passenger door, but someone inside opens it first. I snort. Of course, they would. A Saint never letsanyonedo the work for him. The fucking sycophants of God are so holier than thou. They can do no wrong. They allegedly do the same morally grey things as us, but because they each have a cock and balls, they’re lauded as Saints.
Leila spits near her feet and shoots daggers at them.
When I look at my sisters, their faces are unreadable, but I know what they’re thinking. The cells are cleaned out, and we have to share, all so men can swoop in and save the day. Fury of untold proportions rattles my bones.How dare they?
Wait.
My head snaps to the Rev. I wondered why she didn’t care about mine or Mercy’s appearance. Now I know. She wants us to be seen in all our sinning glory. I grin. This is a shakedown.
Fuck the Saints.
Four
Wesley
As our car idles in the driveway of the abbey, I have to repress my disgust. It’s not from the faceless motorcyclist who tailgated us. It’s the sinking feeling that I’ll have to work in close quarters with these… women.
I force my gaze to remain steady on each Sinner standing on the front steps. We can’t let them see our distrust. They’re killers, whores, the scum of the earth. They’ll find out what they can about us and then use it to manipulate. They think we’re here to teach them about demonology, but we’re here for one thing… maybe five things, and then we will dismantle their organization.
“Fuck me,” Zeke blurts, craning his neck. “They’re all hot.”
I shoot him a warning look. “Keep your todger where it belongs.”
“It belongs in them.”
“Potrebbero avere una malattia,”Dominic mumbles in Italian, meaning they could have a disease.
Cisco gives Zeke a priestly warning look of guidance but it doesn’t work.
Zeke mumbles, “You all need to get laid.”
His words cause a fit of wet coughing. It’s worsened since we landed. As stupid as it sounds, I can’t help thinking his condition is my fault. But people get sick around me. Pets die. Not even goldfish live long in my vicinity. Before I dwell too long, I hand him a handkerchief from my pocket.
We all want to snap a retort at his cheeky insult, but something holds us back. He has a point. The only company I’ve kept lately is Team Saint on our demon-hunting trips across Europe. And that’s purely platonic. Prior to that, I spent decades working for the Vatican with my nose in a book. Dominic is an actual Saint. I’ve never seen him romantically with a woman, man, or anyone. Cisco is… well, a priest. The Monsignor is an old white geezer who’s been ordained his entire, long life.
On the other hand, Zeke has only been with us for a few short years investigating demonic activity. He’s not like us in the sense that we’ve been called to this holy life. He was dragged into it, kicking, screaming, and drenched in his baby sister’s blood.
He has plenty of reasons to turn his back on the cause, especially in his condition, but he stays. He even allowed Cisco to baptize him. I like to think that we’re rubbing off on him, but then he goes and makes comments like those.
“You’ve worked hard to get to where you are,” I remind him. “We all have.”
“Wesley is right,” Cisco says in his thick Italian accent, taking charge as usual. “We stick to the plan, no?”
I catch my reflection in the window. Hard face, spectacles, and shaggy hair that won’t stay put no matter how much gunk I put in it. I nonetheless run my fingers through it and catch the tiny scar beneath my eye. Zeke’s not the only one who’s seen tragedy. My uncle might have been hauled to hell decades ago, but it was enough to shape my future. Enough for me to realize there is no negotiating with evil. There is no forgiving sin, no matter what these women have been told.
Then why are you here?Asks a small voice from the back of my mind.Why come here based on the words of a hidden gospel the Vatican discredits?
Rather than answer my conscience, I return my gaze to the group on the abbey steps. I see stern faces and defensive postures. They’re as uncomfortable about this merger as we are. They should get used to it. Soon it will be a hostile takeover.
I frown—one is covered in blood and something dreadfully gory. But I can’t say I’m surprised.
