Page 115 of The Sinner and the Priest: Part 1

God save me, I want to choke her.

“No one makes me do anything, remember?”

“Then why are you leaving?” A pause. “Why are you leaving with her?”

My head drops into my hands. “Because she’s⁠—”

“The one.” She scoffs. “Got it.”

“No, because—” I lift my head. Force my muscles to relax. “At the pool, when you saw me … change. Do you remember?”

I peer through the lattice. Red light bathes her upturned face. She shakes her head as if to ward off tears I see glistening on her lashes.

“Of course I do,” she whispers.

“I should have told you what triggered it.”

“Me.”

“No. You stopped it.” I inhale. Scrub my hand through my hair. “When I first met the new Sinners, I thought they felt familiar. At the pool, the sense of familiarity was different. Stronger. The curse recognizes Jasmine.”

I think.

I still don’t know for sure. It’s hard to pin down.

She grows still. “I see.”

“So when she picked up the sword, and it sparked⁠—”

Mercy’s palm hits the door, whip-fast, and then she is gone.

Thirty-Nine

Mercy

Iburst from the confessional and head directly for the exit, shaking, positively trembling with rage. Nothing I pass is recognizable. It’s all blurred shapes and flickering colors.

What a gullible idiot I am.

Just because he’s all “I’m a man of my word” doesn’t mean I have to be.

I even put the cilices on to curb my need. I tried to be respectful. Now every stride across the hardwood cuts deeper than it should. Stupid me thought that if he could be an adult about all this bullshit, so could I.

Stupid.

I reach the exit and yank open the oversized door. Wind howls, blasting rain at me for a glorious second, and then a force rips the door away from me. It slams in front of my face with a thunderous bang. I’m left stunned and staring at a large, tattooed hand splayed on the wooden surface.

I refuse to look at his face and lift my chin. “Let me out.”

“No.”

Turning, I meet two brown eyes blazing with fury matching my own. “Let. Me. The fuck. Out.”

He pulls a key from his cassock and locks the door. Click. Drops it back into his deep pocket.

“No,” he repeats.

“Pretty sure kidnapping is a sin, Padre.”