Page 4 of Saint, Sorrow, Sinner
Colin stood before her, hand clutched to his chest, opalescent eyes glinting. A halo crested his shoulders, turning his aura crystalline, and the black ink on his arms, hands, and neck stood higher. She could hardly bear to look at him, but she watched the shine fade from around his blown pupils and saw his mouth twist into a frown. The underside of her skin stung, and her gut clenched. Something echoed inside her. She felt like clay on a pottery wheel, scraped and reshaped. She shook her head and licked around her mouth, collecting irony slick from the grooves between her teeth.
“See,” Tehlor chirped. “Told you.”
“Fascinating,” Colin muttered.
The room stopped spinning. Sophia shifted, righting herself against the lingering wooziness. Bishop hadn’t moved from their place next to the hearth, but firelight flicked, causing a monstrous jaguar-shaped imprint on the wall to bend and shake. Shadowy ears twitched and a thick, spotted tail swept along the baseboard, leaving a trail of darkness behind. Their brown eyes shone treasure-gold. She inhaled through her nose and swallowed a mouthful of blood.
“Sorry,” Sophia croaked.
“I’msorry,” Colin blurted, gesturing to her face. “Let me get you some ice.”
She pawed at her cheek and glanced from Colin to Tehlor. She didn’t trust any of them, but she’d coaxed the witch’s heart to beatagain, so she felt a sense of comradery with her. They’d seen each other die, sort of. Watched each other become unforgivable.
“Oh, he slapped you,” Tehlor said nonchalantly, and shrugged. “Guess good ol’ Iscariot isn’t a fan of our neighborhood ghost-wrangling priest, huh?”
Colin parted his lips to protest but promptly closed his mouth. He nodded toward the hall, instructing Sophia to follow.
“How long have you been carrying the Breath of Judas?” he asked.
Sophia told her knees to bend, her feet to lift, and trailed Colin through the hallway. She tried to ignore the heat surrounding Lincoln, but as she brushed past him, something within her flared, yanking his hellfire closer. She remembered his molten hands—webbed with fiery fissures—tearing the clergy apart. Snow had turned to steam when it fell near him. She met his eyes. He laughed in his throat, an awful, knowing noise.Holy Mary Mother of God, pray for us sinners,she silently chanted, and tore her attention away.
Whatever brewed inside her recognized itself in Tehlor’s bodyguard. She imagined a bushel of limbs pushing downward, smothering the Breath of Judas, but its magic bubbled between her imaginary fingers, sprang loose and stuck to her heart. No matter how hard she tried, the magic Haven had forced her to swallow would not budge.
“Sophia.” Colin set the kettle on the stove. She startled, swiveling to face him. “How long has this been happening?”
“Few weeks,” she said, clearing her throat.
“And how did it happen?”
Her vision wobbled. Panic needled her again.Don’t.She glanced at Tehlor and shook her head. The witch lifted her brows and nodded.Don’t.The memory was gluey in her mouth, brittle in her body.
“It’s okay. We can skip that one. Can you tell me about Haven, then? Tehlor and Lincoln believe the pastor and his wife meant toimpregnate the dead,” Colin said. Disbelief cradled each word. “Seems a bit ridiculous, but—”
“Phillip and Rose were rebuilding the eighteen-year army,” Sophia blurted. Her forehead tightened and she turned, looking between Tehlor and Lincoln. Hadn’t they known? Hadn’t they listened? She met their confusion with a huff. “Haven believed souls in purgatory could follow the dead back to their bodies. If they controlled who returned, they could start the rapture. Chosen vessels provided a birthright for the newborn and the reborn.”
Tehlor’s eyes bulged.“Vessels?”
“Yeah, vessels—heavenly hosts. Nine soldiers, eighteen saved.”
Tehlor shot Colin a bewildered glance.
“Christ’s eighteen-year lapse in the Bible,” Colin said. He turned off the stove just as the kettle started to whistle and filled a mug. “Haven, like a few—veryfew—fringe pseudo-Christian establishments, believe Christ spent the unwritten time recruiting soldiers before he ever connected with his disciples. Some consider it a fail-safe; others believe it was removed by the Council of Mysia to preserve the integrity of the New Testament.” He held the mug out to Sophia. “Correct?”
She took the mug. “Haven believed it was true.”
“Do you?” He watched her carefully.
“I don’t know.”
“And they used you to, what, shove spirits inside corpses?” Bishop asked, stepping through the archway near the back of the kitchen. They grabbed a small basket and set it down on the table, sliding it toward her.
Sophia plucked an Earl Grey tea bag out of the basket and dunked it in her cup.No,she almost said, but it would’ve been half true. “Something like that.”
Tehlor huffed. “Well, your sister told me Haven planned to kill—”
“They did,” she bit out. Beneath her skin, everything buzzed and clenched. “Once they used the Breath of Judas to save nine soldiers and reanimate the eighteen-year army, they’d prosecute the betrayer.” Tehlor opened her mouth, but Sophia kept going. “So, yeah, kill me,” she deadpanned. “I know.”
The witch listed her head. Annoyance tightened her mouth.
