Page 46 of The Sinner and the Priest: Part Two

“I brought you home. You’re welcome.”

“You expect me to thank a demon?” Cisco’s upper lip curls, twisting the scar. “We want nothing from you.”

Asmodeus hops off the stoop and casually strolls around Cisco, keeping his distance as he scrutinizes the priest’s attire.

“Do you know what I find most offensive about you, Father? You and your holy clergy? It’s not the piety or the judgment. It’s not even the collar, or how the Power of Fuck compels you.” He stops, slips his hands into his pockets, and sneers. “It’s the arrogance of thinking that when it does, your cock is so formidable, it can undo God’s work.”

The shadows grow darker in the alley, as if Cisco’s pulling them from every corner, sinking the sun faster.

Asmodeus merely smirks and then says to me, “See what I mean? If this were mine, it would at least have the audacity to be entertaining.”

Cisco’s snarl isn’t human. Heart leaping into my throat, I step in front of him and put my palm on his chest, effectively blocking his path.

I glance over my shoulder at Asmodeus. “You should go. Thank you for your help. And the talk.”

“Nothing like a heart-to-heart for a fresh perspective.” He glares at Cisco, steps back, then hesitates. His face tightens into a grimace. “Tell Tawny⁠—”

A series of high-pitched trills interrupts him. Violent movement inside his jacket erupts before a white, fluffy head pops out of his collar. For some reason, Asmodeus’s cheeks flush a bright red, and he attempts to shove the white fluffball back in.

“Shut up,” he hisses to Noctis. “You’re ruining my exit.”

“Tell Tawny what?” I ask, feeling the heat of twitching muscle beneath my palm.

Asmodeus stiffens. He looks up at me. “Tell her . . . I like the blue ones better.”

He snaps his fingers and vanishes, leaving us alone in the dark, the faint sound of Noctis’s happy chirps echoing into the night.

Rome sounds filter in, people walking and talking, eating, and carousing. Cars and scooters buzz by at the end of the alley.

“What did he mean?” Cisco growls.

“About the blue Twizzler?” I wince. “Sorry, I gave him your ration since you didn’t want it. He seemed hungry.”

“I’m not talking about that,” he snaps. “The heart-to-heart.”

I blink at the tone, and have to rewind my brain to register what he’s asking.

“What did Asmodeus say? We talked, and you would not believe what⁠—”

“And that bullshit about the hunger not being his?” He takes a step closer, eyes narrowing to slits. “You spent time with a Demon Prince of Hell. Discussing me.”

“It wasn’t like that,” I choke out.

He’s not himself. He needs a moment to calm down after losing control to his curse. I busy myself with collecting our belongings. Bags, veil, and my sword are scattered across the cobblestones.

Wait. I spot two bags, not just one.

“Is that my bag?” I point at the overnighter on the stoop that Asmodeus lounged on. “Did he retrieve it from the nuns?”

Cisco grabs my arm as I pass, and I halt. Tensing, clenching my fists, I slowly face him and gasp at the sheer violence and animosity radiating from him.

“What did you tell him?” he growls, eyes flashing.

“Let go.”

His fingers tighten on my arm, but then he lets go. I catch the look of betrayal in his eyes before he turns away, and it shocks me. Stuns me. I’ve done absolutely nothing wrong. He just assumed.

Fuck that.