Page 34 of Crossed
I let out a huff, going over that bizarre interaction in my head. Does he think I’ll do whatever he says just because he was nice to Quinten? Fuck him. I won’t let him make demands of me like I’m a child. I’m half tempted to march after him and tell him where he can shove his Holy Mass, but instead, I stuff it down and smile at Quinten. “You ready to roll, dude?”
“Ready to roll?” he parrots. “Let’s go home.”
Suddenly, I can’t wait to leave. We make our way down the aisle and to the front of the store quickly, my insides vibrating with impatience as Betty, the checkout lady, takes her sweet- ass time ringing up every item.
My eyes scan the area for Father Cade while I wait and then again as we walk through the parking lot, bags weighing down my arms as we start our half a block trek to the bus stop.
But he isn’t there. And I’m not sure why I feel a twinge of disappointment when he’s not.
Chapter12
Cade
ANOTHER WEEK, ANOTHER HOLY MASS IN THE books.
And I still haven’t done anything other than the bare minimum for the parish. I’ve barely met the people.
I’ve been too distracted by Amaya. Stalking in the shadows and waiting for my moment to pounce. Or maybe waiting for a reason not to. The indecision is tearing me in two, the man warring with the monster. Only this time, it’s themanwho wants to rid her from the earth.
All things come with time, I remind myself.
After this week’s Mass, I’m annoyed that once again, she didn’t show up. Even though I specifically told her to be here. I want to see how the townspeople interact with her in this setting. When thewitch of Festivalécomes to pray.
I use the term witch loosely; they treat her as more of a bad omen than anything else, but I’m not convinced. She’s able to putmeunder her spell with ease, and I’m a believer in dark magic.
“The Festival of Fools is coming up.”
I glance over at Parker as he sits in an ostentatious black chair behind his giant desk, watching me from over the rim of his reading glasses. “And?”
I had no idea the Festival of Fools was even celebrated here. It’s not widespread or well known outside history books, and the church banned the festival in the 1400s. I’m not sure how to feel about it being resurrected, although the few that Ihaveseen are nothing more than a common carnival. Street performers doing cartwheels for little kids with cotton- candy fingers and powdered- sugar mouths.
“It’d be good to put a stop to it.” Parker says this like a command, and it makes my jaw lock.
Here it is. The first of his “suggestions.” I’ve known since arriving that I wasn’t truly called here for what Bishop Lamont said. While the peopledolive in sin and there is poverty and strife in the streets, it isn’t to the level I was led to believe.
Parker Errien wants me to be his puppet in a way Father Clark was not. But I take orders from no one but God.
“Surely it’s little more than a street festival,” I reply. “It can’t be like it was in the Middle Ages.”
“It’sblasphemous.”
My brows rise and I bite back the retort that wants to escape. Rich of Parker to remember his religion when it suits him.
“Blasphemous is a powerful word.” I lean forward in my chair, resting my elbows on my knees and cutting him with a knowing look. “Are you sure this is about disrespect to the church and not about the personal slight?”
Traditionally, the Festival of Fools was a celebration on January 1, where the peasants would be the power for a day, appointing a king of the fools to sit on the bishop’s throne and lord over his people. But as with all things, the devil infects where there’s a weakness, and the church banned the celebration when the townspeople became belligerent, drunk, and unholy.
Normally, I’d agree with Parker that this must be eradicated. But he doesn’t need to know that I’m on his side. Showing people your cards means they can plan a next move without you, and that’s the last thing I want Parker to do.
Besides, I’ve found that I quite like making him squirm.
“It’s all in good fun, Parker. Let the people have their joy.” I wave him off. “It’s all pretend. Take it as a compliment. They want tobeyou.”
“It’s not a laughing matter, Father.” Parker’s voice is low and dangerous.
The smile drops from my face, and I lean in, that familiar burning starting to take root in the deepest parts of my body. “And tell me,Parker, what is it you expect me to be able to do?”
“You’re thechurch.” He waves his hand aggressively. “Aren’t you supposed to be all- powerful?”I am.
