Page 11 of Saint, Sorrow, Sinner
Like everything else in Juniper’s house, the kitchen felt appropriately staged and entirely lived in. Vintage kitchenware and decorative appliances filled the counter space. Flowers bundled in burlap hung from a thin rope above the sink, and handwritten tags flagged each jar on the crowded herb rack. Colin and Bishop stood shoulder-to-shoulder next to the refrigerator while Lincoln leaned against the back door. Juniper stirred honey into a teacup, scraping the metal across thin porcelain. The sound hurt Sophia’s teeth.
“There’s a lot of unspoken happening in this house,” Juniper said. She leaned against the doorjamb in front of the beaded curtain, staring into her cup. “You’ve brought a hellhound to my doorstepaccompanied by the witch who stole him from the afterlife. A brujo out for blood,” she hissed, snaring Bishop in a hard glare, “and an innocent vessel afflicted with religious magic threatening to unstitch the boundary between purgatory and our earthly plane.” She sighed through her nose and raised her eyebrows at Colin. “Correct?”
Colin worried his bottom lip. “Quite jarring spoken plainly, but yes, that’s correct.”
“And you’re responsible for the attack in Colorado.” She looked between Tehlor and Lincoln. “Right?”
“Course not,” Tehlor said, shrugging. She flicked her index finger between Juniper and Colin. “How do you two know each other? Thought the holy book axed friendship between godly men and”—she wiggled her fingers, grinning wickedly—“practitioners of the dark arts.”
Colin jumped to speak, but Juniper cut him off.
“Colin attended the Sacerdos Institute with my cousin, Isabelle.” Juniper’s lipstick printed the edge of her cup.
Tension drained from Bishop’s shoulders. They turned toward Colin, searching the priest’s face. Behind her, Lincoln laughed.
“Incredible,” the wolf-man mumbled, sarcasm thick over each syllable.
Sophia finished her burger and reached for the milkshake. Tehlor knuckled the cup toward her.
Colin cleared his throat. “Make no mistake, I wouldn’t have brought this to you if I had another option.”
“You’ve made their messyourmess,” she said, inclining her head toward Bishop.
Colin’s lips thinned. “Can you help her?”
“Saving one won’t bring back the other—”
“June.” Her name, familiar and changed, was a warning in his mouth, and for the first time, Sophia watched Colin’s polished exterior give way to a far less put-together man. He huffed, exhausted. “What happened between you and I isn’t hers to carry.” He gestured to Sophia with his mug. “I knew the cost, I take the blame, I did what I did, Isabelle paid the price. She’s gone; Sophia isn’t. Now, can you help her? Or should I call Grey?”
Juniper lifted her chin. Defiance turned her statuesque, beautiful and cold.
No one said a word. Even Tehlor stepped away, shifting to stand behind Sophia’s chair. She gripped her shoulders, an assuring touch, one sewed with compassion Sophia hadn’t expected from someone so crass and deliberate. Gunnhild, her plump little rat, appeared between Sophia’s feet.
“We can find someone else,” Tehlor tested.
Sophia drank more of her milkshake, chasing sweetness, clinging to normalcy.
“No need,” Juniper said. She inhaled a long, deep breath, and exhaled through her mouth. “Love is unassailable.” Her gaze switched to Bishop, then moved to Lincoln, and finally came to rest on Sophia. “In its absence, we become insufferable. Given too much, we turn into gluttons.” She paused, casting careful glances between each person. “I expect decency, respect, and good faith. Whatever you are to each other, whatever you’ve done to each other, put it away while you’re here. Understood?”
Colin nodded hopefully, dancing his eyes around the kitchen, hunting for agreement.
Tehlor shrugged. “Sure, babe. You got it.”
“Fine by me,” Lincoln said.
Bishop, last to move, or blink, or breathe, finally relented. “Sí.”
Juniper pinned them with a cool glance. “¿Me prometes, brujo?”
Their attention transferred to Lincoln. “Take your ring off.”
The house stood still. Something old oozed, souring the air.
Lincoln tipped his head. He held Bishop’s gaze as he worked the gold band over his knuckle and dropped it onto the table. The noise rang like a plucked harp string. Tehlor picked up the jewelry and tossed it. Bishop caught the band in one hand, turned it over like a hot coal, and tucked it into their pocket. Colin deflated.
“You have my word,” Bishop said to Juniper.
“Good,” Juniper said. The damage unspooled. Marginally, at least. The psychic sipped her tea. “Do you know what purgatory is, Sophia? Its true definition?”
