Chapter 25 – Two Months Later
Twenty-Five
Nathan
Two Months Later
“You brought her such peace there at the end.”
The death of Doris Gauthier’s daughter hadn’t weakened the old woman’s grip in the slightest. She held onto Nathan’s hand as if she were trying to juice a citrus fruit.
“I’m so glad Janice could find some serenity.”
Janice had found serenity, but Nathan hadn’t had anything to do with it. Rather, a newfound love of edibles and radical acceptance had done the trick. She hadn’t been interested in religion in the slightest.
As the end neared, though, she’d appreciated Nathan’s presence, knowing he helped her mother deal with the spectre of her terminal illness. The two of them had forged an easy camaraderie around comforting Doris. No one should have to lose their child, but she was a survivor.
“She’s in paradise now.” Doris reached up and patted Nathan’s cheek, the scent of Oil of Olay wafting off her hand. “And look at you! You have your own parish. You’re doing such a good job.”
“The transition was easy enough, with such a wonderful congregation.” Nathan smiled at her, and it wasn’t fake in the slightest. He loved the people of St. Stephen’s, and that was true even if his faith had evolved.
Evolved? Shifted. Deepened. What he considered important had changed, and he was happy to let the rest fall away.
“Poor Father McDonagh. What a strange thing, to disappear like that.” She sighed, although it was a bit theatrical. Nathan got the impression she preferred him over the previous pastor.
Of course, Father McDonagh hadn’t disappeared. Nathan had killed him, and he was buried in the backyard of an abandoned church a few towns over.
And Nathan didn’t feel an ounce of guilt.
“The most we can do is pray.” Nathan squeezed Doris’ arm gently and stepped back. Mass was done for the day, and it was time for him to get going.
Mass was done, and he’d said it alone. What an accomplishment. For so many years, he’d been stuck kowtowing to McDonagh’s whims and cruelties. Now, though, he was the one standing at the altar, the one passing out communion, and the one making decisions.
Who knew that by the time he got his own church, he’d be an outright murderer? Or that he’d find his demon soulmate?
A younger Father Roy would have been wracked with shame over all the vows he’d broken.
Spending time with the pack, with the Strong brothers, with Hunter Strong, had made him loosen his moral strictures a bit.
The world was not as black and white as he believed.
Sometimes you did what needed to be done to help people.
And sometimes that included driving a screwdriver into the brain of your immediate superior.
Swinging the church doors closed, Nathan set the alarm and headed across the street. Jim’s Garden Bar waited for him, as did his mate.
The gaming hall was still open, and Hunter was still in charge. Sort of. Or he was, rather, but he was doing a terrible job of it. He’d been distracted by trying to track down Bill, to no avail. Luckily, the poker games pretty much ran themselves.
Nathan had given up on closing down the gambling operation. It wasn’t harming anyone, not really, and for those few folks who found themselves in trouble, Nathan happily helped them out of it. Once he’d been exposed to a world of demons, murder, and evil magic, his priorities had shifted.
“Nathan!” Tristan called out from behind the bar, breaking Nathan’s reverie in time for him to catch Hunter and Eli settling down on a couple of stools. Striding over to them, he slipped in next to Hunter.
As more members of the pack arrived, Tristan’s bar had become a gathering place for them, and they’d included Nathan with no questions asked, despite his previous self-righteous tirades.
There were six packmates total, but at the moment Nathan had only met Ammon, Hunter, and Eli.
They’d assured him more would arrive, however.
Noticing Hunter’s strong arm wind its way around his waist, Nathan leaned into his mate, who whispered into his ear.
“You’re looking hot in all black, mate.”
“I always wear all black, mate.”
Nathan chuckled to himself and marveled at the fact that they were sitting here in a public place being affectionate without issue.
Hunter had assured him no one would notice.
Part of it was the open-mindedness of the folks of Purgatory.
It allowed Hunter to use some of his shadow power to encourage people’s minds to ignore them.
Nathan didn’t entirely understand it, but they hadn’t any issues so far.
The large door swung open as Noah came out carrying a case of beer, followed by…Rageball? They were chatting away animatedly.
Noah was the opposite of Rageball, fair with curly blonde hair and a sweet demeanor that put everyone at ease. Nathan assumed his sweetness was one reason Tristan hadn’t fired the twink. The bar owner constantly found his barback reading instead of working.
“I like to make up the character voices in my head!” Rageball was standing in the doorway, hips on his hands and jaw jutting out, as Noah slid the case behind the bar and started unpacking it.
“Well, I can work and listen at the same time, so now I don’t get in trouble for reading on the job.” The glass of the beer bottles dinged as Noah clumsily piled them into a glass-front refrigerator.
“I don’t know. Audiobooks just feel like cheating.”
“They’re not. My grandma is losing her sight, and it’s been a lifesaver for her.”
The two headed back through the door. As they passed the threshold, Noah put a friendly arm around Rageball’s shoulder as they disappeared into the back.
At the touch, a low growl emitted from Eli, who had been staring daggers at the two the whole time.
Nathan tapped Hunter’s forearm, whispering, “What’s with him?”
Hunter rolled his eyes, a mannerism Nathan had grown to love. “Who knows? Rageball didn’t have anywhere else to go, so he’s been hanging around here and staying in the back. Noah and he get along, which makes Eli grumpy as hell.”
Glancing over at Eli and back again, the expression on Hunter’s face was the perfect picture of sibling annoyance. Nathan was jealous of it, and of Hunter growing up with a bunch of brothers. Not that he held it against them.
“But he hasn’t said a word about it. Typical,” Hunter finished, and Nathan smiled. He loved his hellhound, loved to hear him talk, loved to watch him roll his eyes.
“What?” Hunter asked, and Nathan realized he’d been staring at his mate.
“Nothing. Just your stupid face.”
Humming in a way that rumbled deep in his chest, Hunter reached out and crushed Nathan to him. A sensation spread through his body. One he hadn’t experienced in years. Not since his mother had died, not since becoming a priest.
He was home.
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