Page 23 of Saint, Sorrow, Sinner
God didn’t answer.
Street art scrawled across the brick carcass at the end of the street. Garbage littered the ground next to discarded sleeping bags and a torn tent. Sophia avoided a brownish puddle and came to stand in front of a dusty window. A jagged crack split the glass down the middle. Beyond it, she saw the outline of a handmade half-pipe and the remnants of a broken skateboard.
“Prince of a thousand enemies.” Amy De’voreaux’s voice shattered the silence. She bent Sophia’s reflection, apprehending familiarity, becoming false and lucid. “When they catch you, they’ll kill you. That’s how it goes, right?”
Amy was far truer than she’d ever been before. The open gash below her chin and the tunnel in her torso had ripened, crusted over with dried blood. Her eyes, gouged, still held life, somehow. They glinted, catlike and primal. Lifeless hair hung around her in matted locks and she bared her teeth, slick with grime and decay. Sophia looked at her for longer than she cared to. Longer than she ever had since the revival.
“Yeah, that’s how it goes,” Sophia said, sniffling. She scrubbed her hand beneath her nose. “Why are you still here? How are you—”
“Holy vessel, we made you, remember? And in this holding, we will emerge victorious and new.” Amy’s grin widened. Black dripped fromthe crack between her lips, slicing up one side of her face. Her voice deepened, warping. “The ultimate sacrifice will be made, and the lamb will know nothing of our kingdom on Earth. She’llburn.” Amy leaned closer. It was impossible, but Sophia watched her ghostly breath fog the glass. “And scream and sit with her sin for eternity. Are you ready, carrier of the betrayer? Are you ready for descension?”
Her mouth wobbled. Chest clenched. She wanted to reach through the glass and snag a lock of her sister’s hair. Keep a bit of her. “Say something real.”Tell me you love me. Tell me you hate me. Tell me you forgive me.“Please.”
Amy’s grin immediately fell. “Hutch rabbit,” she hissed, laughter strangling each word. “Cunning and full of tricks.”
“I’m sorry,” Sophia said, because it might’ve been her only chance to say it.
“Sorry?”Amy lurched forward. Her hand shot out, hardly human, scaled with frostbite and chew marks from insects. She grappled for Sophia’s neck. “Liar. You left me to rot in those woods, little girl. You left me for the animals. Defiler! Transgressor! The soldiers of the Lord will carve Christ’s name into your stomach and your womb will rot, betrayer—”
“Youbetrayedme!” Sophia opened her mouth and a sound like a scream—sharper, worse—shot from her. She’d meant to shout, to yell, to cry, but power surged through her, evacuating in a shrill burst.
The window shattered. A streetlight down the block exploded, sinking the warehouse, Sophia, and anyone else nearby into thicker darkness. The spectral sound carried, shredding the air. Somewhere close, a car alarm blared. She stumbled backward and pawed at her throat, searching for the remnants of Amy’s cold grip. Nothing. Her pinkie brushed the edge of the raw print from Lincoln’s hand. She winced.
“You betrayed me, Amy,” she said again, softer, hardly a whisper, and took another step away from the building. “But you’re right, I’m not sorry.” Her voice quaked. She shook her head. “I’m not fuckin’ sorry, you hear me?” She pitched herself forward on her tiptoes and shouted, “I’m not sorry!”
Movement darted across the empty building. Sophia flinched at first, anticipating a ghoulish creature to sprint from the pitch. But it was light that came and went, streaking the brick in a smooth swoop. She didn’t recognize the motorcycle at first, but as the bike rumbled, tires rolling closer, Sophia noticed the familiar matte-black paint and Juniper’s strong legs straddling the seat.
Juniper cut the engine, lowered the kickstand, and ripped off her helmet. Her fishtail braid swung. She took off a small backpack and reached inside, tossing a pair of slip-on flats at Sophia’s dirty feet.
“Good way to get tetanus,” Juniper said.
Sophia swallowed the sting in her throat. “How’d you find me?”
The psychic brought her gloved hand to her mouth and bit the tip of her finger, working the black leather off with her teeth. Sophia watched, transfixed, and her pulse quickened. Once Juniper’s hand was free, she reached into her pocket and dropped a crystal pendulum from her palm. The bauble dangled by its chain.
“You’re a beacon. Easy to find.” She tucked the pendulum back into her pocket and heaved a sigh. “You can’t just run off like that, Sophia. This isn’t Gideon. You could get—”
“Hurt?” Sophia laughed, bouncing in place as she yanked the right shoe on. “Abducted? Robbed? I just had a conversation with my dead sister, and I”—she waved at the warehouse—“exploded a window, and before that, I hadyouprobing around in my head, and Judas Iscariot talking about ...” She caught herself before she fell and growled,pulling the left ballerina flat into place. “...destinyand shit. Some night prowler copycat is the least of my worries right now, okay?”
Juniper tilted her head. Her charcoal jacket was tight and ribbed, matching sturdy boots and jet-black pants. She was a culmination of many things Sophia had avoided for most of her life. Free, capable, confident, sufficient. Self-made. Designed against submission. She narrowed her eyes, staring hard at Sophia’s throat. Sophia took the opportunity to study her too. To fixate on Juniper’s fine mouth and strong jaw, to imagine her flustered and unrefined.
“You exploded a window?”
Sophia bristled. “Yeah, I don’t ... I just ... I screamed and it shattered.”
“What kind of scream, Sophia?”
She shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know, June. You’re the expert.”
Juniper unzipped her jacket and stripped it away, exposing a half-buttoned white top tucked into her pants. She tossed the jacket at Sophia, then held the backpack out to her.
Sophia fumbled to catch it. “What?”
“I can’t wear the pack with you on the back. Put it on.”
Sophia gave the motorcycle a quick scan. Really, she didn’t have much of a choice. But the idea of it—being that close, being out of control—made her entire body constrict. She slipped her arms through the warm, buttery sleeves, scented like sandalwood and almond, and looped the backpack straps over her shoulders. Juniper invaded her senses. She cleared her throat, masking her nerves with a frown. Juniper shifted forward in the seat and handed Sophia the helmet.
Sophia furrowed her brow. “That’s yours, I can’t—”
