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“We’ll have a wedding in thirty minutes here.” Remi winks at him, and he throws his arm over my shoulders. “Congratulations are in order.” He taps my chest. “Our boy is getting married.”
Father Paul gapes at us for several seconds, and I wonder if he’s experiencing a stroke right now due to all the excitement he has to face because of us. “Octavius? You’re getting married?” Surprise laces his tone, and a smile shapes his mouth, only to be replaced with a frown. “Where is the bride, then?” He glances around the various empty pews. “And her family?”
“She has no family.” He blinks at Florian. “True story, Father Paul. She’s an orphan. They died a long time ago.”
“Oh, poor thing.” Softness crosses his face, and he shifts his gaze to me. “Why such short notice, then?” Silence greets his question, and he gasps. “No. Another forced bride?” He slaps his forehead and shakes his head. “I’ll go to hell for this.”
“Like I said two days ago, we just call them brides. No one is forcing them into these unions. They come to us willingly.” Florian’s explanation is met with a harsh stare, and he moves closer to Father Paul. “We’re in church, so we can’t lie to you.”
He huffs, wiggling a finger at him. “As if you all follow the holy rules.” Santiago chooses this moment to pour tequila into a glass, proving his point once again, and we share a grin because seeing Father Paul all riled up is hilarious. Usually, I’m the one to drink because I cannot stand all the memories floating in my head whenever there is a sermon, but it’s my wedding. I can make an exception for that. “I don’t even understand why you drag me and the church into your mess since none of you have any respect for the institution!”
We just shrug while he sends more glares our way. While he has strict rules in his church that everyone follows to a T, we get away with all kinds of shit because Father Paul is the best friend of Uncle Lucian, Santiago’s father, and the Cortez family funds this church and all its charity organizations.
Otherwise, he’d have kicked us out a long time ago, not that we would have listened. Getting on Father Paul’s nerves has been our favorite pastime since we were little. Only back then, he chased us all over the church, promising to punish us in the most stern way while we laughed and even stole his mantle once.
Considering we ate the ice scream stashed in his freezer every single time after our antics, he never delivered on his promises, and that was why he stayed our favorite person, after Uncle Lucian and Uncle Jacob.
“That’s not true,” Remi says, crossing his arms. “We have respect. That’s why we’re here.” He sighs while Father Paul studies him, clearly expecting a catch. “You wound us deeply with your accusations.”
“Haven’t we attended church every Sunday?” Santiago pitches in, finishing his drink and pouring himself another. “It shows our dedication.”
Father Paul’s face turns scandalized. “You haven’t attended church since all of you were seven years old!”
“Are you sure?” Florian asks, hugging him and patting him on his chest. “Maybe you missed us during one of your sermons.”
Santiago gasps. “Dios Mios.” He wipes away a nonexistent tear. “We’re invisible to you.”
“That’s why you don’t appreciate our dedication.” Florian nods. “The devil hides us from you.”
“Oh, that’s a good one,” Remi says, and they share a high five above Father’s head, who’s finally had enough of our bullshit.
I’m surprised he withstood it for so long. He always had the least patience for our banter among the grown-ups in our lives.
“Silence!” he yells, and everyone shuts up. “Don’t try to be sneaky. It’s a sin.”
Santiago fires a question right away. “Isn’t technically everything a sin?”
“Nope.” Florian slaps him on the elbow. “Only the fun things are considered a sin.”
“Ah, you—”
“I said silence!” Father Paul snatches a handkerchief and wipes his forehead while our gazes meet. “Octavius. You’ve always been the levelheaded one. Why are you doing this?” he asks almost with resignation because we both know he won’t like the answer.
Or rather no answer of mine will allow him to sleep in peace tonight because he will perform the ceremony no matter what.
He christened all of us, watched us grow up, and was one of the few people who’s seen my wounds. His loyalty to our families runs deep—deeper than his duty.
We’re his family, after all.
However, his statement proves he hasn’t been paying much attention to me because he would know that my levelheaded nature, as he calls it, is a cover-up for the constant storm and hunger consuming my whole being, striving for control in a world that offered me none once upon a time.
When a demon feasts on your flesh on a daily basis, you are at the mercy of his evilness, for you have no voice.
No emotions.
Nothing, as your life belongs to someone else, a prison with no way of escape where misery and devastation rule.
And agony, agony that has the power to either destroy you or make you stronger, and I chose the second option.
