Chapter 8
Sunlight cut across the bishop’s office like my favorite blade.
It made the air feel warm but sterile, as if it were illuminating the dust mites that floated lazily in the air.
I settled into the chair across from the stuffy big man who looked none too pleased to see an “inferior race” in his office, much less a Japanese woman at that.
He was studying his Bible like he didn’t already know every single verse in the old yellow pages. I waited impatiently, folding my hands neatly in my lap, hiding the buzz that still lingered in my chest from the night prior.
Why do I care if that moron wakes up?
White men were always infecting me in some ways that left a stain on my soul. Hadn’t Jedidiah Franklin soured enough of my mind already?
The Bishop looked up finally, grunting at my existence and laying down the book on the polished desk in front of him. His dark eyes weren’t warm and fuzzy. His stare was like a black void. The man stared at me like I was a fly he was envisioning how to eliminate.
“Who let you into my office…” he began, and I let the pause hang just slightly longer than necessary.
“Your lovely secretary,” I replied. Technically, it wasn’t a lie. Her keycard was what I used, so semantics.
His eyes narrowed slightly, as if contemplating my words. He held himself like some of my father’s men, and I couldn’t help the instinctive switch in my posture.
“What is your name? I know Corrine did not let you inside my office unattended, so I will not bother giving you a chance to spin more webs of lies. You were not lying in wait with a weapon, so I will assume you mean me no harm.”
“Now that depends on you, Bishop.”
The slightest shadow of a smile appeared on his lips, and I felt that strange sensation of familiarity again.
“Sayuri,” I supplied softly, letting the name roll off my tongue like my own secret.
“Sayuri,” he repeated, nodding once. “And what do I owe the delight of your unannounced presence?”
Now, I smiled.
I leaned forward, careful to keep my voice calm and measured, matching his. “Your priest. Jedidiah Franklin? Inform me of the magical tale that everyone around here gets a bokki for.”
I thought I saw the Bishop stiffen at my crass words, but unless he knew Japanese, he wouldn’t have been able to understand that I just said his holy folks get a boner for their sexy little priest.
“I’m really curious how he came to Monticello,” I continued, ignoring his subtle change. “How does a dirty blond angel just fall into your lap, Mr. Bishop?”
His hands tightened on the desk almost imperceptibly, but I caught the flicker in his eyes, the hesitation…and anger. The weight of what he wasn’t saying was like static in the air.
Did the Bishop know about Jedidiah’s past? Maybe Jed wasn’t here by accident after all.
That made me smirk, just slightly, though I kept it hidden behind my polite calm.
“Jedidiah is no stranger to the trails of God,” he said slowly. “Some paths the Church guides quietly, my child. And some stories are meant for particular audiences. You understand that outside the proper hands, those contents could be damaging to the consumer, yes?”
He was threatening me.
Interesting.
I let my gaze drift over the room, letting the words hang while I carefully pulled each piece and analyzed them to complete the hidden message.
It was, ‘Stay out of my business, and stop asking about whom I control or else.’
Something about him, about the way he spoke, carefully, calculated, and firm, told me there were truths the parish kept hidden with a deadly certainty.
I could feel the challenge in the air, the tension just beneath his calm, and I let myself savor it. I loved pissing off men in general, much less self-proclaimed holy relics.
“I understand, Bishop,” I said softly. “But surely the beautiful town of Monticello would not be praising a lie? I am certain that a great leader such as yourself would never lead his flock astray with a false prophet.”
Bait. Set. Match…Asshole.
He shifted slightly, his fingers steepled, with his eyes narrowing just enough to show the stalemate we were in. He wanted to measure me, and I let him. I wanted him to wonder why I was asking, and what my intentions might be.
He would never guess I had already seen Father Franklin in ways he could never imagine. His broken soldier would fall, but would the general go down with his men?
“You are unusually perceptive, Sayuri,” he said. “What pray tell do you feel would allow these dreamers to keep their spirits and illusions strong?”
Ah, toppling like a deck of cards, I see… So quick to sacrifice your front men, darling Bishop.
“I know who Jedidiah really is. I know where he comes from, and I am happy to lift the veil of the town to his history. However, we can be friends, Bishop Matthews. Let me into the church. Title me whatever allows me access to your underling, and I promise to keep my pretty mouth closed. God can continue to be your only judge.”
For now.
I wasn’t done with this man. I needed to find out whether Jedidiah knew that the Bishop knew who he was and how he was connected to what happened to me. That would determine if he would meet his precious God sooner than later.
“A desire to serve is commendable. Most who inquire about the parish have simpler hearts.”
I let my lips curve into a faint, controlled smile.
“I am not most people,” I said, letting the edge of truth slip in just enough to hint that I was far from harmless.
The pause stretched in a heavy, deliberate way, making the old man hum and open his Bible to a verse.
“Good understanding wins favor, but the way of the unfaithful leads to ruin. Do not forget this child. What do you wish from my priest?” he said, his voice softened, as if inviting me to reveal more.
The snake was charming after all.
I tilted my head, considering. The memory of him, the man in the bathroom, raw and trembling, counting the flames while succumbing to a less than human ball of resentment flashed through my mind.
The vulnerability, the shame, and the raw power of witnessing it all…it made my chest tighten. I felt something coil inside me, dangerous and alive.
Was this vengeance?
“I…want to serve him,” I said carefully. “You will make me an acolyte.”
He studied me in a long, measured pause.
I let my gaze meet his, keeping my eyes steady and unwavering, making sure my own promise was still tangible. I could feel the unspoken questions, the uncertainty, and the hesitation in his mind, but he didn’t dare voice them.
“Very well,” he finally said, and I smiled visibly at his defeat. “That may be possible. But it will require patience, discipline, and understanding of what it means to witness and serve without judgment. You don’t expect some stranger to become holy overnight, do you?”
“Didn’t you, Bishop?”
He glared, and I glared back.
“I will be at the church tomorrow morning for my service. I trust you will have all the arrangements in place. God bless, Bishop Matthews.”
I left the office without letting him respond, the calm smile never wavering.
My rosary was in my grip as I walked out of the big glass doors.
The sharp prick of the metal was a constant that felt good at my small victories, but when the metal bit into my skin and I felt the small drip of blood leave my fingertip, the memory of Jedidiah, fallen, shamed, and stupidly human, lingered in my mind.
The sensation caught me off guard, and I reminded myself that the faster I seduced this man and ended his miserable life, the faster I could brush off the uncomfortable buzz he left in my blood.
Jedidiah Franklin would endure a blissful hell of my own making before he finally saw his God at my hand.
He was already wrapped around my pinky, and now…I had every intention of keeping it that way, all the way to hell.
Lying in bed later that night, I was trying to read over the idiotic Bible verses, because apparently, holy people liked to throw random lines in your face and expect you to understand.
Mostly, it was all the sexy quotes that could be twisted into a whole other meaning.
If, in fact, there really was a hell, I was definitely going there to read the holy scripture with intentions of how to use it to seduce ‘A man of God.’
Seduce and then kill him. No messing around, Sayuri. You aren’t safe. You are never safe. Keep moving.
It made me antsy to be staying in a hotel for longer than a few days. Ever since I’d escaped the compound, I had never rested my head anywhere for very long, always moving.
I was under no illusions that Jayce’s men would give up searching for me, and even if they did, my own family would hunt me down and ship me back eventually.
My only hope was staying one step ahead of them at all times. If I didn’t, I may as well give the ōkami my head instead.
“Hmm. This sounds like a good one, what do you think, Okaasan?” I said aloud with my rosary in my grip with one hand, the Bible in front of me on the bed.
“To keep you from an immoral woman, from the smooth tongue of the seductress. Do not lust in your heart after her beauty or let her captivate you with her eyes.”
Of course, there was no response from my mother, but I laughed at myself instead. This was never what I wanted for my life, but when was my existence anything but someone else’s script? I simply followed like the blind?
“I find more bitter than death the woman who is a snare, whose heart is a trap and whose hands are chains.”
My hands will be your chains, alright. I will tie you up, Puchi Emu…Little Masochist.
A yawn crawled out of my throat, and I sighed in frustration. No! I couldn’t sleep. I had too much to learn to keep up this ruse.
Smacking my face a little harder than necessary, I turned on the television across the room and cranked the volume loud enough to get noise complaints from the adjoining hotel rooms.
“Wake. Up. You need to be prepared.”