Page 12 of Deathless & Divided

She was her.

It was her life.

“Dino—”

Lily’s words were drowned out by the sound of the congregation standing.

“Please,” Lily heard Father Garner say from the altar as she also stood, “… join me in a Mea Culpa to cleanse our souls and minds for the beginning of this Mass.”

Dino smirked. “Funny how that works. It’s automatically assumed we’ve sinned—that we’re all sinners in need of repenting. We’re not even given the option to be saints.”

“We are sinners,” Lily muttered.

Their whole family was full of them.

Dino shrugged. “We are.”

“Confíteor Deo omnipoténti, et vobis, fratres, quia peccávi nimis …”

“I confess to almighty God, and to you, my brothers and sisters, that I have greatly sinned …” The words echoed through the church from two-hundred or more voices. It was almost melodic in effect, healing to some, she knew. A way of asking for forgiveness alongside everyone else so you didn’t have to do it alone.

For some, it was the confession they would never give otherwise.

“Cogitatióne, verbo, ópere et omissióne,” Dino murmured in perfect Latin.

“In my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done and in what I have failed to do,” Lily said along with the congregation to follow the priest’s words in English.

Something in the corner of her eye caught Lily’s attention. Subtly, so it still seemed as if she were staring at the front, Lily turned her head and glanced to the side. Across the aisle stood a man she hadn’t noticed earlier. With his head slightly bowed and his lips moving along with the prayer, it looked as though he was fully engrossed in the confession.

Except he was staring at her, too.

“Mea culpa,” rang out from the crowd of worshippers.

The next would come louder, Lily knew.

She was still stuck staring at the man. His eyes were a steel-blue. Dark hair fell over his gaze as he blinked and tilted his chin upward in Lily’s direction. The action surprised her though she didn’t know why. With chiseled features, a jaw wrought tight, an expression born from indifference, and a stance that spoke of an uncaring confidence, he reminded her of stone. Hard and cold. Beautiful ice, maybe.

There was something else about him, too. Something familiar. Like she maybe knew this man. It wouldn’t be such a shock, considering the people who gathered at this church had been going for years. As did her family.

Who was he?

“Mea culpa.”

The man flashed a quick smile and Lily turned away.

“Mea máxima culpa,” she whispered.

It was only when the prayer turned to English for the verse did she realize that she could distinguish the man’s voice in the people around her. She focused on the deep tenor in the pew across from hers just three feet away.

She shot him another look, not even caring if her brother noticed her staring or sudden distraction. The man was still watching her, too.

“Through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault,” he said.

Who are you, Lily wondered.

“My bad,” the man mouthed.

Mea Culpa.