Page 30 of The Sinner and the Priest: Part 1

“We’re just trying to protect you,” Thea says, her eyes softening on me.

“For fuck’s sake,” Raven snaps. “Just show her.”

Thea nods, then leaves the room and disappears between bookcases farther into the archives. When she returns, she’s balancing multiple books and leafing through the top ancient leather tome. She drops it before me on the table, pages spread.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She points at an old woodcut engraving. “But some things are better left out of sight and out of mind.”

I glance down to where her finger touches the picture of an old medieval painting. It’s of a nude woman with long red hair and a curvaceous body, surrounded by demons and horrific scenes of torture. The label reads, Lilith, Mother of Demons.

I push the book away. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s you,” Tawny whispers. “You don’t see it?”

Since they’re all staring at me so seriously, I take another look but don’t understand why they’re so freaked out.

“Sure, she has similar features. The same coloring as me.” My shrug hides my unease at the uncanny resemblance. “So do a million other redheads in the world.”

“It’s not just that.” Thea sighs, taking her seat. “We’ve found too many links between Lilith and you that it’s hard to ignore.”

A queasy feeling hits my stomach. “Links?”

“Have you seen the CCTV footage from the bar Zeke and I found?” Leila flicks on her phone, thumbs through the videos, and presses play on one. She zooms in and then shows me the screen.

I watch as Asmodeus crouches and speaks to a woman’s corpse on the floor of a dive bar. But it’s not her face that animates and talks back. Another face appears beneath the skin, as if she were occupying the body. She’s my doppelganger, through and through.

It’s not concern I see in her eyes now, but pity as she says, “When we gather all the information in Mary’s Gospel about the coming of the fifth horseman—the antichrist—all signs point to it being a woman.”

I swallow. “You think I’m evil … I’m the antichrist?”

Twelve

Mercy

They think I’m the antichrist. Me.

A part of me rages at the word, but another, deeper part remembers other words. Truer words I’ve worked to bury in the past.

You’re not normal!

He’d still be alive if not for you.

Only the devil would love such an evil child.

A touch on my hand startles me, and I turn to focus on the Rev’s gnarled fingers. Tawny reaches across the table and covers my other hand with hers. Leila joins in, then Thea, and Raven does the same. Each takes hold of a part of me.

“Of course, we don’t believe it,” the Rev says. “It’s purely a coincidence.”

“Even if you were the antichrist,” Tawny adds, fierce loyalty burning in her expression, “I would find a way to save you.”

“We all would,” Leila insists.

“But you’re not,” Raven finishes, resolute in her gaze. “You might look like Lilith, but you’re not her. Just like she—” She casts a wry glance at Tawny. “Looks like a Tay-Tay and talks like a Tay-Tay, but she don’t quack like a Tay-Tay.” At our blank faces, she explains, “She can’t hold a tune to save her life.”

“Hey.” Tawny pouts. “I’m an awesome singer.”

“Yeah.” Raven nods, expression flat. “You should audition for the Voice.”

“You think?” Hopeful eyes swing to me. “I mean⁠—”