Page 121 of The Sinner and the Priest: Part Two

I keep staring until there’s nothing left of my cigarette to smoke, and ash is all over the floor.

I drop the stub, lift my boot to grind out the embers, but don’t. Instead, I stare at the smoldering butt. It reminds me of the day I met Dominic.

The day Team Saint turned up on our doorstep and everything changed.

I’d been out on the bike, trying to clear the ball of knots that had been growing in my stomach all week. But it got worse with every mile covered until I headed home, to the abbey. Lo and behold, I wasn’t the only vehicle approaching the wrought iron gates. The anxious feeling remained when their car followed me through the gates.

Assuming they were the danger, I stood beside my sisters and prepared for war.

But then the strangest thing happened.

That ball of knots disappeared when Team Saint exited their limo. Not even a glimmer of psychic pain when I flicked my cigarette butt at Dom’s pectoral, hoping to get a rise out of him. But he just looked at me through those stupid long lashes, picked up the stub, swallowed it with his giant fist, and put it in his pocket.

I squeeze my eyes shut and swallow the ache in my throat. God, it’s getting hard to breathe. I didn’t think this would be so hard, but I’ve done everything I can.

I inhale through my nose and exhale through my mouth.

Come on, bitch. I slap my cheeks. You can do this.

Another sharp, steadying breath, and I pull out the final letter.

My vision blurs. A teardrop lands on Dominic’s name, bleeding the ink. Fuck. I try to wipe it off but smear the lettering more. Shit. He’s going to see it and think I regret doing what I’m doing. He’ll think this is his fault. He’ll think what’s inside is a lie. Gah!

I resist the urge to rip it to shreds, shove the letter under his door, and stalk toward the staircase. Glowering, I crack my knuckles to release the tension. I don’t stop, don’t pass go, don’t collect a hundred cigarettes. I just slam open the doors and head straight out. I keep walking down the porch steps into the brisk air until I find a place on the grass where the knots in my gut start to unravel.

I stare at the mist over the lake, at the closed gates, and I wait. I’m not exactly sure what I’m waiting for. I only know that today one of us goes to Hell, and it damn well better be me.

Because if it’s not . . . an innocent man goes instead.

The ball of knots returned that first night Team Saint arrived, and I dreamed about Death coming for Dominic. No matter what I did, no matter who I turned to, the dream never changed. Not unless I went in his place.

At first, I tried to convince myself Dominic deserved Hell. He wasn’t a Saint. He was an interloper, a liar, a wicked soul who should burn for eternity. But nothing I did to him provoked the beast. And the more time I spent with him, the more of his beautiful soul I discovered, and the more I realized if one of us had to be in Hell—then it should be the one who will end up there anyway.

Throat tight, I take another steadying breath and crack my knuckles. I need another cigarette, but settle for appreciating the majestic sight of the estate as the sun rises. Everywhere the light touches is beautiful, lush, and free of rot. All the way up the path to the walled garden, plant life is teeming again.

The moment Cisco and Mercy left for Rome, all signs of decay disappeared. We all wondered what it meant, but also knew it had something to do with Mary’s Gospel verse about Famine. While the others debated in the archives whether to send backup to Rome, I focused on what would happen after Famine was defeated. Just as Thea was the only one who could have dealt with Pestilence, and Leila was the only one to deal with War, the battle with Famine is for Mercy and her alone.

A sudden thudding and scratching at the abbey’s front doors makes me go still. That better not be Dominic coming to stop me. A thousand ways to knock him out flit through my mind as I turn, but when the front doors open a smidge, Jinx dashes out.

The dachshund-sized ex-demon bolts down the steps, making high-pitched dolphin barks. I jog to meet her, raising my finger to my lips.

“Shh. You’ll wake the—ah fuck.” I realize my mistake when the frilly, scaled creature leaps into my arms and starts licking my face. “Thea’s already awake, isn’t she?”

Another lick is my answer.

Jinx mostly sleeps in Thea and Wesley’s room. She must have heard me slotting the letter under the door and woke them up to get out.

It’s fine. I’m still here first. I still have Dominic’s totem in my pocket. Whatever turns up to drag him to Hell will come to me first.

They probably haven’t even noticed the letter.

It’s fine.

Jinx starts barking again, wriggling furiously in my arms, scrambling to get out. I clench tighter around her slippery body, locking her in because a warning prickling sensation crawls up my spine.

Ten feet away on the grass, air shimmers and a large, winged, and horned figure starts to take shape.

Fuck me, it’s time.