Page 29 of The Sinner and the Priest: Part 1

I am the team leader. I need to get it together, but I can’t stop staring at the red twisted sweetie bobbing from side to side in Tawny’s lips the same way hay moves when a cow chews.

“You want one?” She pops the Twizzler stick out and offers it to me, but it droops like a limp dick between us.

“Is that the only food we have here?” I peer behind her at the snack bar for a better look at the stock supply. It’s looking as miserable as the kitchen supply earlier. “Have you eaten all the Cheetos, Tawny?”

A guilty look splashes over her face. “I was hungry.”

“We’re all hungry!” I shout and then massage my temples. My limbs are shaking. I need food, dammit.

“Here. Take mine.”

Thea’s small voice lifts my gaze to hers, now beside me. She hands me a packet of crisps, which I open and set to work demolishing the contents. I’m so intent on eating that I’m still standing. Thea is, too.

I give her a sideways glance and mumble through a full mouth, “What?”

“We owe you a better apology,” she says. “What we said before wasn’t good enough. Words aren’t good enough to show you”—she glances at Raven and Tawny—“what you mean to us.”

With a long sigh, I run my hand down my face and swallow the salty lump in my throat. I guess we’re doing this now. I suppose it’s better than in front of the boys.

Leila picks at a page of her book. “It honestly happened so fast.”

“What you said outside the other day…” Thea says. “I agree. You have every right not to trust us.”

“Take a seat, Dorothea.” The Rev gestures to an empty chair, then addresses Thea. “It’s understandable why you kept the full truth from us. Emotions are high. You were uncertain. Maybe even afraid.” At their slight nods, she continues. “But Mercy is right. We at this table must not hold back from each other, whether it be the uncomfortable truth or an accidental lie. No more secrets. Every doubt, every idea, every fear must be shared.” She taps her hand on the gospel. “Cracks widen when we let those dark thoughts sink in. The only way we survive is together.”

“Together.” I sit down and stare at Leila and Thea. “But are we?”

“Yes!” they both say.

If truth were measured by the emotion glimmering in their eyes, I’d believe them. Wholeheartedly. But a Sinner is trained to look beyond first impressions, beyond the mask. So, when the Rev’s old shoulders tense beneath her black robe and then both Tawny and Raven tense too, I realize they’re all still lying.

That itch beneath my skin renews. My fingers crawl down my thigh and dig into the fleshy part, over the cilices, hard and sharp, until the pain snaps me out of my internal turmoil. Taking a deep breath, I steel my resolve.

“This is the first and only time I’m going to say this.” My words come out slowly. “I know you’re still keeping something from me.” I meet each team member’s eyes, holding for a moment before moving on to the next. “Spit it out, or risk losing my trust for good.”

Tawny breaks ranks first. Her pale skin flushes red, as if she’s holding back a bubbling torrent. Her posture stiffens, and she darts glances between the others. Finally, eyes bulging, she bursts.

“We have to tell her!” She gestures at me. “She can take it.”

“Take what?” I slap my palms on the table, eyes now like daggers. “Is this about the occult shit Raven’s been⁠—”

“Tawny’s right.” Raven cuts me off, kohl-lined eyes narrowing. “We should tell her.”

Doubt and guilt flicker behind their eyes. Maybe even a hint of fear. But most of all, I see worry. For a long moment, all I hear is the hiss of the oscillating fan and the buzz of a distant fly trapped indoors.

I don’t want to hear it if this is about the prophecy, about the priest I’m destined to defile and break. It’s one thing to know that my rotten core is good for only one thing, but it’s another to hear these women admit they see it too.

I’m used to being the home wrecker. The husband stealer. The father killer.

All I’ve ever done is exist, but the world sees what it wants to see—a Lolita, a Jezebel, a whore. A soulless bitch who belongs in Hell.

Which is why I’m taken by complete surprise when the Rev says, “Dorothea, show her the book.”

“Are you sure?” Thea replies, gathering the gospel to her chest. “Because I think it just might put ideas into her head.”

Anger clenches my fists. “Sounds like something I definitely need to see.”

Thea’s black hair is glossy and braided after her shower. Dressed in simple black workout clothes, holding that book like a lifeline, I’m taken back to the day she arrived at the abbey. The lost little orphan had been terrified, more so of someone confiscating her novel than of the deadly assassins she was moving in with. But she never lied. She told the truth with a dare in her eyes, no matter the consequences.