Page 63 of The Sinner and the Scholar
As the engines fire up,I strap my waterlogged body into the seat of a private luxury jet. We came straight here from the city. Didn’t even stop to dispose of the businesswoman’s body or the demonic minions. The woman’s family deserves closure, and the minions were charred beyond anything recognizable. We can clean up and rest on the long flight.
Black mascara tears on flawless skin. Glossy red fingernails. Chipped toenails that don’t match.
I clear my throat and glance at Wes opposite me. His half-dried blond hair has curled. The tan leather chair is dark from where his wet body rubbed against it. His honey eyes are wide behind his spectacles. He clutches his backpack with white knuckles. We haven’t spoken since the attack.
“You okay?” I ask softly, my throat dry.
Because I’m not. I’m holding on by a thread.
Wide eyes meet mine and hesitate, but then he nods. I watch him fuss in his seat and wonder if he’s afraid of flying. He has the look of a startled deer. But this isn’t that. This probably relates to the attack… and how I treated him before it. He doesn’t know how to deal with me now.
I don’t blame him.
I don’t know how to deal with myself, either. But seeing Alice reminded me that I have a family at the Sisterhood and a job to do. It reminded me to shove all my confusing feelings for Wesley in a box, to trust my instincts, catalog details, and read body language.
My old teacher’s voice echoes in my mind.
A Sinner can only focus on one thing at a time, and it can’t be her emotions. She must be ruthless, cold, and efficient. She must focus outward, not inward… for that way leads to death.
So I chant in my mind,Don’t think about your guilt. Think about the job. The job. Not guilt. Not the woman and her mismatched nail polish. Not the guilt or how it expands like a balloon, threatening to burst.
Chanting isn’t helping.
Wesley’s eyes dart about. His posture is hunched and defensive, his skin is paler than usual, and he’s gripping that bag like a security blanket. He’s not coping either.
Fuck, I need a drink.
“Vepar’s not dead, is she?” I ask.
Of course, I know she’s not. I saw the black smoke coming out of her body. But did he? After a pause, he shakes his head.
“She’s coming back for you, isn’t she?”
He stares out the window, keeping his secrets to himself. My irritation grows. If he doesn’t engage, I’m stuck with my guilty thoughts.
The jet vibrates as we move down the runway. The single seats are in a four-formation, two facing each other on either side of the aisle, and eight in total. Behind Wes, a leather sofa-couch lines the fuselage wall and faces a flat-screen TV and credenza. Even further back is a small bathroom and kitchen.
The demonic attack has set us back. It will be daytime when we arrive in London. If I’m to pull off a museum heist, I’ll have to wait until nightfall. It will give us time to scope out the museum and finesse a plan. The girls are working on strategies back at the abbey, but I have a few ideas. We’ll have something workable by the time I land.
If demonic forces are trying to open the gates of hell, if that bitch is coming back for Wes, then I need to be prepared.
I need that archangel’s staff.
But as I sit here with destructive thoughts and a man who won’t look me in the eye, I recall a verse from Mary’s gospel and wonder if I’m the right woman for this job.
And let us remember that the divine relics, though powerful, are only tools in the hands of those who wield them. True strength lies in accepting the darkness within and forging a path of love and compassion, even in the face of adversity.
After tonight, I’ve learned I don’t accept the darkness within me. I’m ashamed of it, and I hate it. I hate myself for doing these things, but I’m not in the abbey, so I can’t beg the priest to purge my sins and absolve me. I close my eyes.
Black mascara tears on flawless skin. Glossy red fingernails. Toenails that don’t match.
I open my eyes wide.
My self-loathing will eat me alive if I can’t get it out. And just like that, I’m cast adrift again. How much more of this can I take before I lose my mind?
Twenty-One
Wesley
