4. Who Is My Neighbor? #2
“I figured Zach would be the morality police, but you?” She blinked at me, the light from the stained glass created a kaleidoscope effect on her horns as her head tilted to the other side. “You are certainly not without sin.”
I returned my gaze to her feet, noticing how her bleeding slowed and the most shallow cuts already had began to close. And still I heard Zach’s commanding voice from down below, meaning nothing was amiss in the chapel. At least, no one was dropping dead anyway.
“Look, the thing is, we don’t know you.” Her feet were looking better already. Now if only I could keep my fucking eyes from wandering up her leg. “So it’s going to take some time before we can trust you.”
“And yet here you are, washing my feet.” Deyva pressed her back to the balcony wall, her chest lifting with a deep breath like she was getting high on the choruses of, “Praise Him! God is good!” down below.
If it was Zach up here, he definitely wouldn’t be thinking about the outline of perfect, teardrop-shaped breasts through the burnt fabric of that dress. No, absolutely not.
And Stavros? I didn’t even want to think of where Stav’s mind—or hands, for that matter—would be.
“What’s me cleaning your feet got to do with anything?” I muttered.
“Aw, come on, Kais,” she sighed. “Jesus washed the feet of his disciples. Mary of Magda washed His feet with her tears and spilled perfume. All this feet-washing symbolism in your faith, don’t act like you don’t know.”
“Yeah, and what do you know about it?” I barked with more aggression than I intended. Shit, I needed to get out of here and run laps around the town or something.
She deflated slightly and I wished I could take the words back. Succubus or not, she still reacted in the same way a frightened woman would. Like someone who’d been hurt.
“That it’s an act of humility,” Deyva said softly. “Of selflessness. You do trust me, to the extent that I’m a stranger, and you’re treating me like a guest. So thank you, Kais. That’s all I’m trying to say.”
A long silence fell between us, with only the shuffling footsteps and murmuring voices downstairs to fill the empty air. People sounded like they were leaving, going about their business for the evening. That was good, the less people hanging around to gawk, the better.
“So you know your scripture.” I cleaned up the trash from the first aid kit and dared to steal a glance at her.
“I’ve been around a long time,” she shrugged, looking stronger and slightly more alive than when we first dragged her in, but still not one-hundred percent.
She looked healthier but tired, not quite the acrobatic seductress dragging her tongue and supple body all over—
Yeah, gonna need to run some laps tonight for sure.
I also didn’t want to get into the conversation of exactly how long she’d been around—just more shit that I probably couldn’t wrap my head around, so I opted for simpler questions.
“Do you um, bathe? Like, do you need to take a shower?”
Her grin spread, eyes flashing a tinge of red before returning to her normal golden yellow, but thankfully she didn’t proceed with any innuendo.
“Yes, a shower would be great. I’m pretty much bound by your laws of physics down here, like any other person. I have a body, so dirt and things will cling to me.”
“Right. Let’s go.” I peered over the balcony, making sure the pews were empty down below before rising to my feet. My grip returned to her bound arms, albeit gentler and more guiding than my forceful grip earlier. “Sorry if I was rough with you before,” I muttered.
“That’s okay,” she answered lightly. “Do you mind if I get some new clothes with that shower?”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll track some down for you.”
Leading her back down the hallway became more like walking side-by-side at some point. Her head reached my shoulder’s height, but the added horns made her look a bit taller.
At the other end of the building was the church’s gymnasium, which had a small locker room with showers attached. Hardly anyone used it anymore, but it seemed like a better deal than having her shower and caged up at our place—the caretaker’s cottage just behind the cathedral.
Having her stand right beside me after only having her in my head was one thing. I didn’t dare to think about her in our personal space.
“There’s no soap or shampoo or anything,” I said at the locker room entrance. “But you can rinse off. I’ll have a towel and change of clothes just outside for you.”
Her shoulders rolled back as she peered up at me under the dim fluorescent lights. “I don’t suppose having full use of my hands would be asking too much?” She tugged at the bindings on her wrists, eyes brightening. “Or are you going to give me a hand in the shower?”
“Don’t get cute.” I drew a circle in the air, indicating she should turn around. “And if I take these off and get you some clothes, you’re definitely not going to run off and cause trouble, right?”
“You seem to keep forgetting that I wanted to come here.” She spun around in a huff, sounding truly irritated for the first time. “I’m safest here, even with your manhandling and suspicion about my intentions.”
With her back to me, holding out her bound wrists, she certainly seemed to trust me enough.
I pulled my pocket knife from my belt, switching the blade open.
She didn’t react to the sound, not even a tense lifting of her shoulders.
I had a weapon in my hand, standing behind her and she didn’t even flinch.
Would she even get injured or die if I tried to attack her?
The thought left me feeling immensely uncomfortable. What the fuck is wrong with me? Horns or not, what kind of Christian contemplated attacking a woman who came to us seeking sanctuary? My own mind was giving me whiplash trying to determine if she was a threat or not.
“Any day now, Kais.” Deyva tossed me a look over her shoulder, her side profile as artfully crafted as a Renaissance painting.
I stepped closer, sliding a finger of my free hand under the zip-tie holding her wrists together. The skin of her wrist was warm, and I realized just as my blade slipped under the plastic cord, how close my face was to hers.
She stayed, looking back at me like that even after her wrists came free. If she leaned back another inch or two, that horn would be nuzzling against my forehead.
“I won’t be long.” She turned away, lifting one free hand to the locker room door.
“I’ll, uh,” I cleared my throat, “I’ll knock when I have stuff for you.”
Her head tilted back, the curve of her lips naughty and coy. “If you’d like to, but you’re welcome to barge in at any time.”
“Not happening.” I stormed off, unsure if I was trying to convince her or myself more.