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"Should we check the church?"
"The door was closed. It was padlocked."
My brows rose. "That’s strange. It’s never locked."
"Itisstrange. You're right." It was Aidan who was looking green around the edges now. "Fuck, Finn, what’s going on?"
"We could get in through the basement window. The lock on it is faulty," I said, thinking fast. "We could check it out?"
"Yeah, I think we should. How do you know it’s faulty?"
"They keep getting it fixed but it never works. Anyway you weren't the one who had to spend the summer there with Father O'Brian."
Aidan's lips twitched. "I remember. For stink bombing the confessional."
My nose crinkled—not my finest hour.
As we ran out of the empty community center, we raced down the street toward the church that was like the beacon of light in this part of our territory. Whenever I stepped foot on holy ground, I expected angels to either start singing or for demons to try and grab me because I was sullied, a sinner, and I was entering God’s home.
Maybe my imagination was too wild but I always sucked in a breath whenever I crossed the gates, awaiting that first response from Upstairs or Downstairs.
Because this wasn’t a fucking movie, I didn’t get either, and though relief hit me, I didn’t stop, racing across the small patch of grass we weren’t supposed to walk on never mind run on, then veering around the side of the church to the basement window I knew we could break open.
Once we made it there, I dropped to my knees, looked at the lock and found myself relieved that the idiots hadn’t replaced the window yet. Jimmying it up, I rolled through the window because it was about six feet wide but only two feet or so deep, and barely managed to stop myself from colliding with the ground face first.
Aidan’s descent was a lot more graceful, but that was him. Light on his feet.
"It’s creepy down here," Aidan muttered as we maneuvered around the boiler, a lot of shit they stored down here—shit I’d put here which was one of the reasons I knew about the window—and toward the doorway.
We exited into the hallway that housed a couple of offices and which led to the south transept where, over the sounds of our breathing, it was whisper-quiet.
I was used to it humming with life because to be a Five Pointer was to be at ease with this place. The church was a home away from goddamn home.
The air itself seemed to throb though, like it was quiet but charged. Whether that was from our tension or not, I didn't know.
"Where are they holding practice if it isn't here or in the community center?" I grumbled.
"I don’t know. But I’ve got a weird feeling. You were right before. Conor wouldn’t lie to Da."
No. He wouldn’t.
I moved over to the altar, tipping my head back to stare at the murals that had terrified me as a kid. They'd seemed to soar upwards back then, like they were reaching for heaven itself.
With my eyes onHeaven on Earth, I often asked why God had forsaken me whenever I made my way to take the sacrament, and I asked again here, now, when the church was quieter than it had ever been and the very noiselessness made my ears ring.
My relationship with God was a weird one, and in my world, questioning my faith, any doubts at all weren’t acceptable.
Aidan popped up at my side and I watched him heft one of the candlesticks from the altar in his hand, murmuring, "Any other parish, these probably would have been stolen by now."
Grateful for the interruption, I snorted. "Aidan Sr.'s wrath is too Old Testament for anyone's stomach. He's better than ADT at keeping thieves away."
"True," he agreed. "Can you imagine him stuffing three thousand locusts down someone's throat?"
"Yeah." I shuddered. "The hard part would be finding three thousand locusts."
Both of us snickered at that, then we heard it.
A sob.
