Page 29 of Saint, Sorrow, Sinner
The kitchen smelled sweet and cozy, and Sophia appreciated the normalcy. She imagined what the shopfront of her own bakery might look like and decided to speak it into existence. “I’d have, like, those cute wooden racks,” she said, and cleared her throat. “In my own place, I mean. My own bakery.” When Juniper nodded, she kept going, apprehended bymaybe, smitten byone day.“I think I’d go with the dark, desert theme. Lots of natural texture, potted cactus, neon signage, starry-patterned parchment paper, minimalist business cards ...” She thought of focaccia, and Danish cheese, and gluten-free cupcakes. “I know it’s kitschy—”
“It’s not.” Juniper shook her head. “Don’t make light of your desires. If that’s what you want, that’s what you should get.”
Sophia laughed under her breath, mostly at herself. “Sorry, I do that sometimes. Just ... Justtalk.”
“I don’t mind listening. Have you ever made pan dulce?”
She shook her head. “I’ve seen conchas before.”
“I’ll teach you.”
“If I live,” Sophia said.
Apples sizzled in the pan. Footsteps padded the second floor. She scolded herself for ruining the slow morning, still dewy and new, but every thought emptied the moment Juniper set her hands on either side of Sophia’s hips and rested her chin on the slope of Sophia’s shoulder.
“Well, if you die, haunt me,” she said, so simply, before stepping away and opening the fridge.
What a morbid thing, how those last two words weakened Sophia’s knees.
Your heart is monstrous,someone keened, crowing from the confines of her mind.Full of teeth, awaiting a sword.
“Comforting,” Sophia joked, ignoring how her groin clenched, how her head spun.
Sophia finished the pastries and slid them into the oven while Lincoln sauntered through the beaded curtain followed by Tehlor, still dressed in pajamas, holding her rat in one hand and pawing at her eyes with the other. It wasn’t long before Colin and Bishop joined them in the kitchen too.
“Whatchya makin’,” Tehlor murmured.
“Turnovers,” Juniper said. “Tea or coffee?”
To Lincoln’s dismay, everyone else agreed on tea, so he conceded.
“Did you sleep all right?” Colin asked. He laid his hand on Sophia’s arm as he reached for the honey in the pantry.
Sophia stood at the sink, rinsing sticky fruit juice and sugar from her hands. “I slept,” she said, shrugging. “You?”
He mimicked her, lifting one shoulder. “Three hours, give or take.”
“So the whole séance shindig was a hot mess,” Tehlor said.
Bishop nodded, seated on the countertop, heels tapping a closed drawer. “And Sophia being a walking, talking portal to purgatory gave her the power of a dead caller.”
“Butthat power isn’t significant enough to salvage her life,” Lincoln added.
Salvage.Sophia tasted the word like a penny on her tongue.
Juniper cleared her throat. “All true. I found the access point, though. Every corpse Sophia has directly or indirectly possessed is an active way station. My initial assessment was correct—the magic she used at the revival spreads like fungus. Which means the spiritual warfare won’t stop until we contain the Breath of Judas.” She tapped one fingernail against her teacup,click, click, click.“Since I doubt we could close the rift, I think we should extract it.”
Tehlor laughed into her mug. “We’re back at square one.”
Juniper shot her a silencing glare. “I have an idea.”
“Is it a good one?” The witch narrowed her eyes, meeting Juniper’s glare with twice the venom.
“It’s one that’ll work.”
“Down, girl,” Lincoln teased, tugging Tehlor into his lap. He curled one arm around her, tightening like a leash, and lifted his mug with the other. “We’re listening.”
Juniper snorted. “If the Breath of Judas was bound to Sophia’s body during a death ritual, then we can likely unbind it from her using the same formula.” She shifted her attention from Tehlor to Colin. “You’re familiar, no?”
