Page 9 of Vicious Prince (Violent Kingdom)

"God absolves all of his children who repent,” the priest says. "Tell me, what would you like to share today?"

“I planned to commit adultery.”

The priest clears his throat. “Did you go through with your plan?”

“No,” I reply. “I’m not married yet. I’m not even engaged.”

“Go on.”

“I’m thinking about killing my unborn children. Isn’t that a mortal sin?”

“Are you pregnant?”

My hand goes to my belly again, before I even notice. “No.”Not yet.

“Then there is no mortal sin.”

"I lied. I lied a lot."

"Yes, child. God will forgive you all your sins. Is there anything else?"

I lean back, letting my head rest against the back of the confessional booth. "I thought about murdering somebody this afternoon.” Several people, if we’re to be honest. Starting with Joshua.

"Did you actually murder somebody?” the priest asks.

"No, of course not. That would be terrible."

"Is there anything else you would like to confess?"

"I had pre-marital sex in my family’s mausoleum last week after confession. I liked it a lot."

A stunned pause. “Anything else?"

"No. I think that about covers it for now."

"Fine," he says, his voice dripping with disapproval. “I absolve you of your sin. Do ten Hail Marys and ten Our Fathers, and next time, Avery, get a room. The Lord knows you have enough."

I grin as I exit the confessional booth. Maybe Ishouldget a room, but I won’t. It’s better this way, hiding amongst the dead.

The children have stopped singing. The church is suddenly quiet. The space is cavernous, and when I walk back outside, my high heels echo in the large space like machine gun fire. I make it outside, and then I take my time walking through the grounds of Holy Cross toward the graves. The oldest ones are first. Individual plots, some with headstones, some unmarked.

I remember my father telling me about how hundreds of thousands of bodies were buried here in mass graves after the real estate in the city became too valuable to waste on graveyards, and San Francisco banned any new burials in the city limits. I think of how many dead people I'm walking over as I make my way to possibly the only other living person in this entire three-hundred-acre cemetery.

The Capulet mausoleum, a giant marble monolith that houses the dead members of my family, is locked. It's always locked, but that's not a problem. I have a key.

I unlock the heavy, gold-plated doors, pushing them open with an eerie creak. I like to think it's not the smell of death that greets me, but who am I kidding, what else could it be? A damp, musty smell invades my nostrils mixed with something sharper, something like formaldehyde.

I close the doors behind me. It's really fucking dark in here, as dark as I imagine hell would be if the devil extinguished all the flames.

I use my iPhone torch to illuminate the room. It's nothing elaborate really, not when you're used to living in mansions like mine. But I suppose for a dead person, it is quite grand. It's one long rectangular room with spaces built in on three walls to house the dead.

We inter our dead here. We don't cremate them.

We're Catholic, and we're filthy fucking rich. We can easily afford the real estate for an entire coffin. Or twenty. I've lost count of how many people are buried here.

But I suppose they're not really buried.

They're sealed into the walls.

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