Page 34 of Saint, Sorrow, Sinner
Yes.That was the correct answer. The predictable answer. She recognized her own hesitation. Analyzed it. “Doyouwant me to live?”
“What I want doesn’t matter—”
“It does, actually. Because I don’t know you. I don’t know Bishop, or Tehlor, or Lincoln, or June.”
“You can’t comprehend someone’s ability to care for you simply because you’re in need of it?” He narrowed his eyes and scoffed. “No wonder you and Bishop get along.”
“I can’t comprehend a group of fucked-up people giving a shit about me,” she snapped. It was harsh and impolite, and she immediately wanted to wilt. “Look, I’m sorry ... I ... That’s not what I meant—”
“It’s exactly what you meant,” he said, laughing. “I can’t blame you for being skeptical, but I can wonder about your desire to downplay both your affliction and your power.”
“I don’t have any power.”
“You’re thelone survivor of a massacre committed by one of the most capable witches I’ve ever encountered. Tehlor isn’t forgiving, Sophia. There’s a heart buried somewhere in her chest, I’m sure of it, but make no mistake, you’re here because shecouldn’tkill you.” He shot her a thoughtful look. “Do you really think she’d keep you alive if she had another choice? You threaten her alibi, you carry the magic she intended to take for herself, and you’re completely unstable—”
“I’m stable.”
Colin laughed again. “So tell me ...” He propped his shoulder against a glass-paneled wall. “Why don’t you want us to keep you alive?”
“I do—”
He said her name forcefully, like a parent. “Sophia.”
“Because I don’t know how,” she blurted. The truth was a heavy thing, weighing on her sternum like an anvil. “I was destined to die and now I’m ... I want to live! I have purpose, I have ...”Hope.She set her pointer finger against her opposite palm, pressing on the covered puncture. “I don’t want this ritual to fall apart, Colin. But God has already failed me,” she choked out. Her throat thickened. “They invoked his name while they drowned me. They called to him, they praised him, while I ... I wastortured.I panicked, and begged, and prayed, and God still allowed it. The Lord witnessed my suffering and did nothing and now I should trustyou?” She flailed her arm toward him. Sniffled, tipped her head back, and closed her eyes. Crying was exhausting. “I know you’re a good man, okay? But I’ve put my trust in a lot of people I shouldn’t have.” She pawed at an annoying tear. “Cut me some slack.”
The priest inhaled deeply. His shoulders drooped. “Dying would be easier.”
“Yeah, it fuckin’ would be,” she muttered, swiping at her leaky nose and salty cheeks.
“Hail Mary,” Colin started, softly, like any good priest would, “full of grace, the Lord is with thee.” He stepped forward and cradled Sophia’s bandaged hand.
Sophia sighed and closed her eyes. “Blessed art thou amongst women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.”
They spoke together. “Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death.”
Sophia clutched his hand, and Colin clutched hers, and she hated how safe it felt to join in prayer with someone else again. To hold on to whatever scraps remained of her faith in the presence of another person. The prayer lingered. Ghosts whispered. One of the hawks let out a shriek. Colin sighed.
“Someone’s been talking to me,” Sophia whispered, as if she’d uttered a secret. Maybe she had. “A woman, I think.”
“One of the departed?”
“No. She ...” Her voice wavered. “Judas called her the mistaken daughter.”
Colin stared at her for a long, long time, so long, in fact, that Sophia wanted to crouch down and begin digging. Bury herself. Disappear. He narrowed his eyes and mouthed the words back to her—mistaken daughter—before his pupils dilated, and he flexed his jaw, and everything seemed to worsen.
He squeezed her knuckles. “Did this happen before or after you screamed?”
“After.”
A soft, profound sound puffed out of him. Then he said, “You’ll sacrifice the rabbit,” and she realized she had no choice. None at all. “Have you ever heard of Hecate, mother of witchcraft? Or Hel,keeper of the Norse underworld?” When she swallowed and shook her head, Colin made another sound. Sharper. The opposite of a gasp. “Persephone, Cerridwen?” Again, she shook her head. Colin tongued at his cheek and leaned closer, touching two fingers to the center of her bandaged palm. “What about God’s first earthly creation, so beautiful, so bold and curious, that God cast her out before light ever touched Eden? Before Adam or Eve ate from the apple? Do you know her?”
Deep, smoldering laughter brushed her ear, like an echo caught in a net.
“That’s heresy,” Sophia joked, because it was all she could do to keep from shaking.
Colin—steady, kind, gentle Colin, who smiled often and showed her compassion—looked afraid. “The rabbit will come back with you,” he said, and cleared the fear from his voice. His smile was brittle and small. “I promise.”
Chapter nine
