Page 22 of The Sinner and the Priest: Part Two

But the other cardinals aren’t listening to him. They’ve pissed themselves in fear, urine dribbling down their inner legs. Valerio is the worst. He looks at me with terror because he knows. It was not the devil who attacked him right now, but the man.

And he knows he’s lost me. That’s why his threat is empty.

“Do you honestly believe you can walk out of here and still be a priest?” He wipes the blood on his throat. “We will laicize you before the sun sets. We will strip you of your title, your protection, and your God. You’ll be nothing but a common thug with a curse you can no longer control. Without us, your devil won’t have a leash. He’ll eat you alive.”

“The leash was never yours to hold, Eminence,” I growl. “You were simply the ones who convinced me I needed it.”

“And what of your mother?” he adds. “What of Paolo? If you choose the Sinner over the Sanctum, he’s out of his cage. We are the only reason your family is still breathing.”

“Don’t.” Mercy’s voice is small behind me. “Don’t take the bait.”

“Is the whore’s touch worth⁠—”

“Amen.” I finish my prayer. Ribbons of shadow explode from my body, lashing out in all directions, latching onto every sin coursing through their miserable bodies. I am pelted with images of sin, disgusting lies, and shameful actions. It tastes so good. It fills me with tingling, glorious satisfaction. More, more, more. Take it all. Hunt down every last wicked deed.

I feast until I see something that makes me pause, a conversation in the dark. Whispers from faceless men.

“The sword—we can’t let them have it.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t you see? It purifies evil. If it’s used on him, we lose our advantage.”

A pause.

“There are others?”

“No . . . there are only two and she⁠—”

“She cannot be collared, I know.”

“Even more reason the relic must be ours.”

Nine

Mercy

“Ican’t believe you did that.”

Heart pounding, I burst from the steam room and immediately search for the habit, but pieces are strewn about. When I’d arrived and overheard Cisco about to make the biggest mistake of his life, I wasn’t exactly thinking about being neat and tidy. I just wanted to salvage the situation.

Turns out, I needn’t have worried. He was going to do what he wanted to do anyway.

“I had everything under control,” I grumble, pluck the black robe off the ground, and then throw it onto the pile with the wimple. I keep hunting. “I have the poison ring. I have the relic.”

Speaking of which. Wincing, I reach behind my back and slide the sword cautiously from its entrapment. It slipped an inch while I was in the pornographic fresco room. I may have given myself a teensy tiny cut.

Freed, I add it to the pile and twist to check my back in an ornate mirror hanging between wooden lockers. No blood. Thank God. I catch Cisco in the reflection, arms folded, leaning against the steam room door. His eyes still look black from here, but it could be the lighting. Nerves skitter down my spine. He just devoured the sins of four men. Shouldn’t he be exhausted, like last time?

“Well?” I ask, proud that my voice remains steady.

No answer.

My gaze flicks to the blade beside me on the floor, but I don’t reach for it. Not yet.

I turn and face Cisco. He is a picture of stoic and dangerous, all glistening hard muscle and ink. Short, dark blond hair sticks to his face in little curls. Piercing dark eyes. Jaw muscle flexing, but no black shadow ribbons snaking out to get me. Just like in there, they wanted nothing to do with me, only the men.

Cisco sucks in a breath and holds it. The movement shifts the towel slung precariously low on his hips, drawing my eye to the tented bulge at his groin.