Vile—or whoever he was playing—merely laughed from where he stood in the center aisle, his hands clasped behind his back.
That was it. Something in her snapped. She sat down on the wooden bench pew and felt everything cave out underneath her. What was shedoing?What had shedone?Looking down at her palms,her eyes began to blur as the familiar sting of tears returned to her eyes.
This thing was trying to kill her.
And she’d—and she thought she could fight it? She thought she could outsmart it? Worse than that, she’d been attracted to it? And she’d hadsexwith it? What waswrongwith her?
“No. None of that. Absolutelynoneof that!” A hand grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her into the center aisle of the church. Suddenly, she saw a flash of an angry mob around her, and she was the witch—the heathen—the villain.
For a split second, Sashawasthe accused. Devil-worshipping bride of Lucifer! Never mind that she was as God-fearing as any other villager, she—she could feel the rope around her neck as it pulled taut, the chair disappearing from underneath her toes.
And just as quickly, the vision was gone as Vile, or whatever character he was playing, threw her toward the altar of the church, sending her staggering toward it. The low wooden table impacted her hard as she slammed into it. The jars of incense and a few books rolled to the floor on the other side.
She spun to face him, gripping the table with one hand to steady herself, the other grasping a large silver candlestick and holding it in front of her like a weapon. Like it’d do any fucking good. But in stories, Vile seemed to have to play by therules.Even in the halfway spaces like this one.
He kept just out of swinging distance. “I underestimated you when we first met. And for that, I apologize.” The eyes of the priest were fully glinting purple in the candlelight. It was still a stranger’s voice—but it was Vile speaking to Sasha, that was painfully clear. “So many crumple under the weight of my little diversions. So few seize the opportunity to play in my…sandbox, as it were—as you saw fit to do.”
Gritting her teeth, she bit out the words. “It was a?—”
“Do not lie. To yourself, or to me. Whatyoudid was not a mistake. It was not shameful. Why would it be?”
“You’re—you’re trying to kill us both. You’re the enemy.Myenemy.”
“Perhaps. But you feel the pull of the fiction when you’re in it, I know you do—I see it. You can feel the call of it, youunderstand.You sink into it in a way most others do not. Yet you are still aware of it.” He grinned. “You let it in. Like you letmein. Like you’re going to let me in again, now.”
“What?”She shifted to grip the candlestick with both hands in front of her. “No!”
The laugh that left him bounced off the walls, dark and resonant, seemingly surrounding her. “We shall see. And no, dear—I am not your enemy. I am not trying to kill you. I very much wish for you to survive my games, especially now. No, I only wish for your sister to die.”
“That’s not any better!”
“And I understand why you view it that way.” He shrugged, as if it were a simpleagree-to-disagreeproblem and not ahe-wanted-to-murder-her-sister-because-he-was-boredproblem. “I am what I am.”
“Let her go.” She felt her heart lodge in her throat. “Let her go, and I’ll—I’ll stay here, just, just spare her life, please.”
“Oh, what’sthis?”He laughed, brighter that time. The sharp features of the older priest creased in amusement. Vile might change faces, but all of them seemed handsome. Just in different ways. “We’ve passed through anger and reached bargaining already?”
“Shut the fuckup.”
“And we’re back to anger.” He tutted. “I think I prefer bargaining.”
“I mean it. Let her go. I’ll stay, and you can play these—stupid twisted games with me. Just let hergo.”
“But then there are no stakes. No urgency. It’s just this. Which, my dear, to be blunt, would begrandfor a half dozen books but…then what?” He tilted his head to the other side, as though thinking it over. “We’re liable to get into strange territory where one jumps the shark by having coitus with it.”
Shutting her eyes, she wanted to scream. Taking a slow, deepbreath, she opened them again and fixed her gaze on the very serious looking priest, who was smirking at her with an expression that was just a little too snarky for him. It was like an actor playing a part.
“Having sex with youwasa mistake.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re the enemy.”
“No. I am playing a part. Same as you.Weare the ‘bad guys’ and therefore, do ‘bad things.’” He lifted his fingers and did air quotes along with the words. “As for Vile? As for that which I am in truth? I am as the lightning storm, as you so rightly observed. I can no more control what I must do than nature itself, I fear.” He let out a small, half-laugh. “I am one of the few people in the universe for whom therapy wouldactuallysolve nothing.”
Luckily, she wasn’t in the mood to laugh. “Having sex with you was stillwrong.”
“Why?” He clasped his hands behind his back. He was once more playing the austere priest.
