Page 35 of Devour

Did I? Because I wasn’t even sure if I knew how I felt about him.

Even as the months passed, I gained no more clarity on the subject. The word dependent came to mind, but I liked to think I didn’t actually need Eli. I was a bougie bitch, and Eli had spoiled me so badly, I had no desire to go elsewhere to feed myself. In my mind, somehow that made all the difference. I had needs. I had wants. Anything that didn’t fall into either category I didn’t devote anything to—be it money, time, effort, or attention. I could handle Eli being a want.

Maybe Gaia knew as much about me, and I should’ve considered she would come and check up on me. Again, mostly solitary. We didn’t congregate, and we didn’t even have a hierarchy so much as a loose network. Still, others tended to listen to Gaia. Being the oldest had to mean something. Either something special made her the first, or she thrived where others failed. Couldn’t really say.

Of all the places to show up, though. The city had a yearly part-fair and part-festival event at the height of summer, culminating with fireworks. Like most people here, I came for the food. Only, I didn’t want anything fried. I wanted a buzz from the crowd. Yummy.

That’s when I caught a whiff of… Gaia. Didn’t make sense for her to be here, so I dismissed it as a fluke.

“Somehow, I knew you wouldn’t listen to me.”

My spine stiffened. Sure enough, Gaia appeared seemingly out of nowhere on the bleachers beside me. People sat around us eating and talking, some already claiming spots around me or on the park lawn below for the fireworks show at nightfall.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I came here for the food.” Which was true. Not that she could tell if I were lying, anyway.

Her eyes flicked downward to where Eli stood in the field after being cornered by a few kids from his parish youth group. We didn’t live in a sizable city, and his congregation wasn’t the largest, but running into parishioners at local events remained inevitable. And even though Eli didn’t tell me to skedaddle, I went ahead to wait here. Probably for the best if we weren’t seen together in public.

“Oh, your meal ticket needed some company? How sweet.” She smiled.

“How’d you even find me?”

“By following him.” Her smile widened, looking especially smug when she nodded down at Eli with her eyes still trained on him. “Smelled so much like you, I thought it was you.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Well, you haven’t starved to death yet, so I suppose it’s just a matter of time.” Gaia stood and stepped down the bleachers. “And since you won’t be dining here tonight, I may as well find myself something to eat.”

When her gaze flicked down to Eli again, something icky swirled in my gut. The worst part of being around one of us was never knowing what they were thinking. I could only hope her claim that he smelled like me also made him unappetizing. Because really, if she wanted him, there would be little I could do to stop her.

By the time Eli’s conversation ended and he glanced in my direction with an apologetic smile, Gaia had already gone.

Apparently, Bill was not as grateful for his exorcism as he should be. Not even a “Thanks, Deacon Eli” for saving him from a literal demon. Nope. Nada. Instead, Big-Nose Bill finally ran his mouth to Father Michael, who was basically my boss.

Months passed between now and that first incident at the pub without so much as a word, so I kept my mouth shut, too. Seemed like the decent thing to do so long as he learned his lesson, especially when I kept noticing him from afar while out with Rhory. He didn’t approach, so I didn’t acknowledge him.

Almost a year later, Bill felt the need to recount his version of events, which conveniently omitted him flirting with my favorite demon before being saved from possession. His sudden change of heart came not from repentance, but after another religious intervention to save his soul, sans holy water, just last week. Bill had either been too drunk to remember why approaching Rhory wasn’t a smart idea, or he’d forgotten I knew Rhory. He’d been about as happy to see me as I had to see him, so I kindly did him the favor of suggesting he get back to his wife. Of course, he would have a crisis of conscience this time, which compelled him to inform Father Michael, like any good Christian would.

So, now Father Michael wanted to offer me his counsel, which equated to my butt planted in a chair in his office. Lovely. After a polite greeting to one another, Father Michael sat behind his desk. Even the portrait of the Last Supper behind him felt like a panel of judges.

“I heard a very interesting story about you from one of our parishioners.” Father Michael folded his hands on his desk and glanced at me in a paternal manner, specifically that of a disappointed father—a look I recognized all too well.

“I have a very interesting parable on gossip you can use for your next sermon.” I folded my hands in my lap and met his gaze.

“Deacon Eli, what I mean is, a man is often judged by the company he keeps. Unfair or not, clergymen are not exempt from judgment. No one is.”

Of course, he’d say that. I worked mostly in the youth programs, and whoever shaped the young minds was held to an even higher standard than most.

“And?” I said, trying to mask my annoyance.

“And you need to be more mindful of your presence in the secular world. That includes who you associate yourself with.”

After a pause, where I waited to see if he had anything of actual substance to say, I leaned forward in my seat. “Yet, the Church portrays Mary Magdalene as a whore, despite her being arguably as close or closer to Jesus than any of his disciples. If that’s what sets the bar, I think I’m doing fine.”

“If half of what I heard is true, the good Lord would not approve of your friend or your friendship.” He stopped to adjust his glasses.

“Well, said friend has been in my company since college. And, regardless of how he lives, he has been nothing but a good friend and a good person the entire time I’ve known him. I will always be there to offer my counsel, especially to those such as him who are in the greatest need of it.”

“There’s a difference between offering guidance and friendship. Especially to someone so questionable,” Father Michael said, his voice steadily rising.

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