Page 37 of Saint, Sorrow, Sinner
A ghost hissed.Now, who’s the liar?
“Power doesn’t always look like oppressive control,” Juniper said. She placed the rat on the floor. “It doesn’t always look like Fenrir, or Santa Muerte, or Christ either. Sometimes it’s an exercise in freedom. Most of the time, it’s just a choice.”
“I didn’t choose any of this,” Sophia said.
“Maybe you should start, then,” Tehlor said. She sighed and pushed herself up. “Choosing, I mean.”
Sophia sent her flighty gaze to every corner of the bathroom, but she still noticed Tehlor’s slender body, how bone bent beneath her breasts and water slid down her knobby knees—the scar in the shape of a handprint on her stomach. Tehlor took a towel off the countertop and wrapped it around herself.
“Hold on,” Juniper said. She stood and grabbed a cologne bottle labeledFlorida Water.Tehlor closed her eyes and stood still, welcoming a spritz to her neck, wrists, and ankles. “Don’t forget your rat.”
Tehlor hummed appreciatively and held the door for Gunnhild, who hopped across the tile behind her.
Sophia considered the space for a moment. The walls seemed to slide closer, forcing her to pay attention to her proximity to Juniper.Be brave.She wanted to scream again, to silence the nonsensical chatter in her skull. The more nervous she was, the louder her spiritual hitchhikers were. She let a single monumental thought propel her forward:I could die tomorrow.
“If Lilith is reaching for you, I wouldn’t ignore her,” Juniper said. She sighed and met Sophia’s eyes in the mirror, still half-steamed from the heat.
Sophia grasped the sides of the tub and stood, stepping out. Water ran from her chin to her chest, dripped from her breasts, and slid past her navel. She was hyperaware of the dark hair between her thighs and the soft pout cushioning her hip bones, but she stepped forward and waited, watching Juniper’s gaze flick across her reflection.
“Haven thought nudity was hedonistic,” Sophia said. She cleared her throat, lifting one shoulder. “They bought designer clothes, carried around expensive handbags, always had new this or that, but never showed their shoulders or wore skirts without tights. It was subtle, you know? Sundresses that showed too much cleavage were taboo at cookouts. High heels made short men feel weird, so we never wore them.”
Juniper’s throat flexed. She turned, nodding slowly, and spritzed Sophia’s sternum, avoiding the recently magicked handprint at the base of her throat. “Bodies are sacred,” she said. Another spritz to each wrist. “Shitty people encourage shame instead of confidence because it’s easier to manage. Shameful people rarely fight back.”
“I did,” she said. The air was suddenly thinner. She didn’t want to think of Daniel, of his hand around her mouth, of clawing uselesslyat his chest, but she did. It came like a snakebite and was gone just as quickly.
Juniper knelt and spritzed her ankles. She touched a droplet there, tracing the top of Sophia’s foot. “That’s why you’re here.” She looked up. How primal and powerful and surreal, witnessing Juniper Castle like that. On her knees, worshipful. “Survival isn’t pretty, Sophia, but that doesn’t make it ugly. It looks different for everyone.”
“What did yours look like?”
The psychic cupped Sophia’s calf, just so. Her fingers met the back of her knee and Sophia told herself not to crumble. Not to sink.
“Men with wives at home who had time to kill and money to burn,” Juniper said. The side of her mouth lifted. “That’s a past life, though.”
“Does it ever stop?”
“Does what ever stop?”
“Feeling it. Reliving it.”
“The body keeps the score, sweetheart. Heal your mind, care for your heart, forgive the rest,” Juniper said. She stood. Her hand skimmed Sophia’s thigh. “Get dressed. I’ll bring you some tea.”
Kiss me, Castle.She reached past Juniper and grabbed the towel off the vanity.C’mon.Wrapped it around herself and chewed her lip. Juniper watched her, that same hawkish expression, those same dark, inquisitive eyes. But she didn’t move, didn’t take Sophia’s hand or lean closer. Just watched, careful and stoic.
Sophia turned and left, crossing the hall into her bedroom. Chilly wind ruffled the curtains. She stared at the moon through the crack between the French doors. Its white face hovered above the balcony, illuminating the Belle House and all its windows, secrets, ghosts.
At a quarterpast nine, a knock sounded at the door.
Sophia paused in the middle of a prayer.Fear not, for I am with you. Be not dismayed.Embarrassment had wormed into her stomach after she’d left the bathroom two hours ago. She couldn’t shake the idea that Juniper pitied her. Saw her as a broken thing meant to be mended. Her palm hovered over the doorknob before she mustered the courage to grasp it.
“Hi,” Sophia said.
Juniper, dressed in a nightshirt and silk pajamas, held a fanciful silver tray topped with a teapot, matching cups, and a tarot deck. “You’re still up,” she said, surprised. “I thought I might’ve missed you.”
“I waited.”
Her smile stretched. She walked inside and set the tray on the nightstand. “I wanted to offer you a reading if you’re up for it.”
Sophia hoisted onto the bed and scooted across it, framed by the vintage canopy and beautifully carved posts. Juniper didn’t sit until Sophia patted the bed.
