Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
Illias
“Let all bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamour, and evil speaking, be put away from you, with all malice:”
Stepping back into the narthex, the door shut with a slow groan behind Illias.
Father Rier stood in the threshold between narthex and nave, head tilted back, eyes narrowed, upper lip curled in disgust as he regarded Illias like scum on the bottom of his shoe.
“I knew it was you,” Father Rier sneered.
“You’ve been nothing but trouble since you were a child. ”
Illias looked at Cantrell, itching to say something in return but not wanting to create further issues for him.
Cantrell discreetly lifted a few fingers while looking at Illias with a don’t say anything expression.
He bit his tongue to keep himself quiet.
Cantrell cleared his throat. “Leave him out of it, Rier,” he said, voice placid. “He’s innocent in all this.”
“Innocent?” Father Rier barked, head whipping in Cantrell’s direction. “People like him are never innocent.” He cut his eyes at Illias again. “They’ve always led the good astray.”
“What do you mean, people like me?” Illias questioned, crossing his arms. Cantrell’s eyes flashed to him in a silent plea to not engage.
“Heathens, sodomites,” Father Rier spit like the words were acid on his tongue. “You bear the serpent,” he nodded towards Illias’ bare arms, “but its meaning is lost to you. You desecrate the very meaning of it by marking your body with it. A sin in and of itself.”
“It means nothing to me huh?” Illias said, recalling Henry spouting similar sentiments when he saw the tattoo. Anger bubbled in the depths of Illias’ stomach. “And why is that?”
“Because you embody the very thing the serpent brought to mankind,” Father Rier seethed. “Putrid sin. You are destined for hellfire.”
“You watch how you fucking talk to me,” he warned.
“Illias,” Cantrell cautioned, his voice still placid. Too placid for Illias’ liking.
“Or what?” Father Rier challenged. “You’ll further damn yourself by attacking a servant of Christ?”
Illias let out a breathless, humorless laugh. “Something like that.”
“Illias,” Cantrell repeated, voice coming out stern and sharp.
“Unsurprising that someone of your nature would resort to violence. After all, your kind is known for it,” Rier condescended. “Just look at the story of Sodom and Gomorrah.”
Illias set his jaw. Clenched his teeth. His fists furled by his side, nails digging into the palms of his hands. He looked to Cantrell who nodded, granting him permission.
“Lucky for you”—Illias turned his focus to Father Rier—“I am very familiar with the story of Sodom and Gomorrah. As well as the original translation of every single God-damn verse in the Bible that so-called followers of Christ like to use against my kind.” He took another step forward.
Rier stepped backwards into the nave. “If you want to go toe-to-toe about homosexuality in the Bible, let’s go.
No one, and I mean fucking no one, is as well versed in the topic as me.
I”—Illias pointed at himself, tapping his chest— “spent my teenage years pouring over every religious text, researching and studying each and every story or line that alludes to it. So, if you want to use your holy book against me, go ahead. I’m certain that I know it better than you. ”
“Watch how you speak in the house of the Lord,” Father Rier snarled.
“This is a sacred place that you’re defiling with your vulgar speech.
And you.” He glowered at Cantrell. “You invited this into His sanctuary. You call yourself a man of God, yet you fraternize with the very beasts seeking to destroy Him.”
Red coated Illias’ vision. He started towards Father Rier with one goal in mind. “I’m going to fucking—”
Cantrell grabbed Illias’ bicep before he crossed the threshold of the nave, a mere three feet from Father Rier. “Enough,” Cantrell ordered. “Go wait for me outside.”
Illias ground his teeth together to the point they ached. “Fine,” he growled, snatching his arm away from Cantrell.
He turned on his heels and stalked towards the door, blood roaring in his ears. “May God be with you, you wretched soul,” Father Rier called after him.
“Motherfucker,” Illias hissed, spinning back around.
He barged past Cantrell, ripping his arm free when Cantrell attempted to stop him again.
“You don’t know when to fucking stop, do you?
With your holier than thou stupid fucking attitude and stick so far up your fucking ass you don’t realize just how much of a Grade A dick you are.
I am so sick and fucking tired of people like you, acting like your hot fucking shit all because you believe in God,” Illias ranted, steadily backing Father Rier deeper into the nave.
“Well guess what, dipshit, you’re not better than any-fucking-body, and you are absolutely fucking nothing without that stupid ass collar around your neck.
You’re not even half the priest, actually, you’re not even a quarter of the man Cantrell is.
You’re nothing more than a dick with a superiority complex. ”
“Cantrell,” Father Rier’s voice wavered, “control your dog.”
“I’ll show you a fucking dog,” Illias threatened, lip pulled up in a snarl.
“Illias,” Cantrell’s voice, deep and attention-demanding, boomed throughout the nave. Illias stopped in the middle of the nave, shoulders tense. “Outside, now.”
“Eat shit, asshole,” Illias sneered, then marched out of the nave. Cantrell stopped him in the narthex. “What?”
Cantrell lowered his voice, “Watch your fucking attitude. Don’t get short with me because you’re pissed at him.”
Illias turned his head away. “Sorry,” he grumbled.
“Go outside and wait for me. I’ll be there in a moment,” Cantrell requested.
Illias nodded then carried on to the exit, pausing when he heard combined footsteps.
Daring a look over his shoulder as he opened the door, he saw Cantrell and Father Rier walking towards the stairs that lead to the second floor of the church.
Illias blew out a breath through his nose, shaking his head, and walked out into the summer heat.
A shadow fell over Illias, shielding him from the harsh rays of the sun.
He looked up from his hands—fingers a little tender and raw from twisting his rings—to see Cantrell with a box of miscellaneous items and no Roman collar.
“Well,” Cantrell sighed, shifting the box in his arms. “I’ve been unofficially laicized, but Rier has agreed to not investigate the reasoning for me leaving.
I’m not certain how things will play out from here. ”
“There’s one thing I know for certain,” Illias said, standing up. He took the box from Cantrell then set it on the steps. “I can finally do this.”
He grabbed Cantrell by the front of his shirt and kissed him in front of the church, right beneath the gaze of God.