Page 33 of Dishonorable


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The sound of a branch breaking startled me, making me spin around, my hand to my heart.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.”

For the briefest of moments, I thought it was Raphael. But then Damon smiled, and I hoped he didn’t see my disappointment.

I forced a smile. “No, you didn’t. I’m just jumpy.” Embarrassed, I gestured around me. “Dusk in a cemetery. Probably not my smartest move.”

Damon walked toward me. “I got here early. I like to come to the chapel when I’m here.” He looked at the grave. “He won’t let anyone maintain it.”

I followed his gaze to the dandelion.

“Why not?”

Damon shook his head and looked at me, and the similarity in their features struck me.

“If I know my brother, he feels guilty over her death. He’s like that. As hard as he is on the outside, he takes it all on on the inside. Always did.”

A sudden gust of wind made me shiver.

Damon took off the sweater he was wearing and draped it over my shoulders. The gesture was kind, and maybe it was the fact that he was almost a priest that I didn’t take it any way other than that. I noticed that he wore a black T-shirt beneath it, noticed he was built like his brother, and I quickly blinked away.

“Come on, let’s go inside. It won’t be much warmer, but you’ll be out of the wind.”

I climbed the stairs with Damon behind me. He pushed the door open, and I entered.

“How did you manage to get here on your own, anyway?”

“You mean Eric?”

He nodded.

“He was having dinner.”

“Raphael won’t like that.”

“Too bad. I don’t see why he needs to have me watched anyway.”

“It’s for your protection. And Maria’s and the staff. Our father had enemies.”

“I know. It’s still odd.” We sat down in a pew. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“I know it sounds strange, but the priest thing…” I shook my head. “I’m sorry, it’s none of my business really, but I just want to understand.”

“It’s fine. I think it’s a normal question to have, but I don’t really have an answer. Not one that makes sense. It’s just…a feeling.”

I nodded, although I wasn’t sure I understood what he meant.

He continued. “I like it here. It always soothes me somehow. Even though I live in a seminary and attend mass daily, this little chapel makes me feel something different.”

“It’s a special place.”

“Maybe I like the ceremony of the Catholic church. The discipline. It too soothes me, I suppose. But maybe I’m just trying to escape the past. Who I am. The blood in my veins.” We both looked at the altar as he spoke.

“You hold onto guilt too.”

“No, it’s different.”

“Have you ever been in love?” I asked before I could stop myself.

He smiled at me and shrugged a shoulder. “I went through a period of falling in love nightly with a different woman on each night.”

I felt myself blush.

“How is my brother treating you?” he asked.

“He’s…different than I thought he would be.”

“He’s not a monster, Sofia. When I met you, I thought you might be able to help him see that. But you have to see it first.”

“I do. That’s the thing. I just don’t understand him, I guess. I expected him to be cruel. Or crueler. It would make more sense if he was.” We sat quietly for a minute, our eyes on the altar. When a small mouse scurried over the top of it, I startled.

“I think he lives here,” Damon said with a smile. “He seems to be here every time I am.”

“I guess it’s good the chapel is used by some…thing, even if it’s just a mouse.” I turned to him. “Damon, I’m sure this is very personal but… I don’t know how to ask it actually.”

“Just ask it.”

He was so frank and so easy to talk to. “Raphael has marks on his back.”

Damon’s face darkened, and he shifted his gaze away from mine.

“And I was in the cellar the other night. I found him there. He said he’d been to your mother’s grave, and I know he was drinking, and he—he wasn’t himself.” I hesitated, but decided to tell him what I thought. “I saw the pillar.”

He nodded and returned his attention to the altar. “Our father was not a gentle man, Sofia,” he said gravely before looking at me again. “And Raphael was a good brother. A protective brother to me and Zachariah.”

“What—”

“The rest is for him to tell.”

The door slamming against the wall startled us both. I jumped, gasping, and we both turned to look behind us. Raphael stood at the entrance of the chapel, one hand flat against the door he’d just smashed into the wall, the other fisted at his side, his face hard.

Damon stood. “Brother.”

“Cozy in here,” Raphael said, his gaze shifting from his brother to me, the accusation in his eyes chilling. “I was looking for you.”

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