16. Idle Hands do the Devil’s Work #2
Stav’s hand reached up and clasped Deyva’s shoulder. I expected her to tear him a new one but instead she just leaned into the touch, her feet stumbling back. My hand raised and rested against her spine, feeling the swell and release of her sigh.
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” Azariah said, the picture of repentance with his shimmering locks curtaining around his diamond-edged cheekbones. But he looked tainted in my eyes now.
“You lied to us. You tried to use me,” Zach said.
“I—no. I thought I was helping you all at first. I never imagined she would be—be—”
“She’s a good fucking person and you’re an asshole, is what I think you’re trying to say,” Stavros growled.
Azariah’s good wing drooped, his grip rigid on the back of the chair as his gaze nearly bore a hole in the tabletop.
“For what it’s worth,” he ground out. “Seeing what you’ve done here has been remarkable.
I’ve always admired human resilience, their will to take care of each other.
Even if my faith is not completely restored, seeing Bethel come together and refuse to give up has given me hope.
I’m not postulating, Fathers. You have truly done God’s work here.
” His eyes lifted to the succubus across the room.
“And I’m glad Deyva has been here to help. ”
“So are we.” Stavros growled, pulling her back to his chest as his fingers kneaded into the flesh of her shoulder. “At least I am.”
I couldn’t be sure if that dig was meant for me, Zach, or both of us.
All I knew was that my hand was still pressed to Deyva’s back and I had no desire to drop the contact.
A growing part of me wanted her to know I was here too, that I’d defend her like a knight in battle-torn armor if she had room for me.
“Now what?” Zach looked crestfallen, his stare bouncing all around the room like he didn’t know who or what to believe.
“Clearly, you were all doing fine before I came along.” Azariah held the young priest’s gaze for a moment before returning to face us. “I’ll leave immediately, if you would prefer that.”
“Go out there?” I pointed a finger out the window. “And what’ll happen to you then?”
The angel shrugged, his wings lifting with a soft swish of feathers.
“Best case, I find a community like this one, filled with attractive people who won’t balk at an angel with a sex drive.
” His lips started on a weak smile, then quickly faltered when no one in the room returned it.
“But the most likely scenario is being found by demon scouts and being returned to Kimaris, obviously without fulfilling my part of the deal we made.”
A heavy silence filled the room as Azariah straightened up, as if wanting to accept such a fate with dignity.
I couldn’t fault him for that, but also knew too well of the world outside our gate.
While he was immortal and could fare better than any of us humans, it wouldn’t exactly be a happy-go-lucky time either.
“Stay.”
All eyes fell on Deyva, stepping away from mine and Stavros’ hands and toward Azariah. He watched her warily, like an injured bird being approached by a cat.
“As much as I don’t like you,” she went on, chin lifted. “No one deserves to be sent back to Kimaris. If you are truly remorseful and don’t cause trouble, I can...tolerate you being here, I guess.”
Azariah lowered his head again, the humility so clear in his body language, I wondered if Deyva could taste it.
“You are kinder than I deserve, Deyva.” It might have been the first time he used her actual name.
“Having an angel around is good for morale, I’ll give you that much.” Stavros crossed his arms, still glowering. “I’ve never seen the town in such high spirits before. Stick around and you might be good for something.”
So that was two votes in favor of Azariah staying. My eyes slid over toward Zach, who was still looking like he was having the biggest existential crisis of his life.
“What do you say, Zach?” Even if Deyva hadn’t spoken up, I had no doubt she could handle the angel as a thorn in her side. But I wasn’t so sure about our youngest priest.
He took a long moment to reply. “Yeah, we shouldn’t be sending anyone out to their death, or worse.” The words came out on the tail end of a heavy sigh, like he was tired of wrestling with it all.
“All right then.” I didn’t know when I became the head of our little ragtag gang of misfits, but the role seemed to fall on my shoulders regardless.
“You’ll stay in Bethel, given that you don’t touch Zach, you don’t undermine us, and it shouldn’t have to be said, but you definitely don’t bring any demons here.
Otherwise, I won’t hesitate to nail you by your good wing outside our gate and leave you there to rot. ”
Only Deyva gasped at the threat, the soft sound making my gut churn in regret at having said anything.
Zach and Stav knew my nature, knew how unflinching I could be in the face of violence, even while it tormented me at night.
Azariah simply nodded in acceptance at the terms I laid out, but it was Deyva’s stare that I couldn’t shake.
For some reason, I didn’t want her to know that side of me.
What if I reminded her of this Kimaris asshole that scarred her skin and made her flinch at unexpected touches?
My foot jiggled underneath me. I needed to walk off all this shit. Especially the shit about caring what this woman—Stavros' woman—thought about me.
“If that’s settled,” I turned and nudged my way to the door, “we can go back to business as fucking usual.”
The door slammed behind me louder than intended, even over the crunching of gravel under my boots. I flinched at the sound and hurried away faster, no destination in mind. Just away. Away from thinking, wanting, wishing, questioning.
Idle hands do the devil’s work, I reminded myself, heading into town. There was always something to do here. Something to repair, something to clean. Deyva, Azariah, my past failures—none of it compared to making sure families had heat for the winter, or food for their children.
Christ worked in the service of others. He worried for nothing, because he had nothing but God’s love.
Had I been standing on a pulpit as I did years ago, I might have preached about learning to give for the sake of giving, and not to take in hopes of filling a void.
It was a lesson I often needed to remind myself of.
I headed for the house where Deyva had removed the tree branch from the roof. When was that, today? Yesterday? Everything from before watching her snuff that demon seemed like a different time period altogether.
“Morning, Father,” Dan Phillips greeted, neatly stacking firewood logs in a hitch trailer as I approached.
“Morning,” I grumbled in return, realizing I hadn’t had my usual second cup of coffee with our heated discussion at the cottage. “What needs doing?”
The middle-aged man turned around slowly, scratching his head.
“Well, we’ve got all the wood chopped from the branch the little demon girl brought down.
I got Kyle raking up the leaf litter for compost, the wife’s canning in the cellar, and once I get this stacked up, I’m gonna go around the neighborhood to stock everyone up.
” He returned to look at me with a shrug. “I think we’ve got it covered.”
I bounced on my toes. There was always something that needed to get done.
“How about that generator? I know you were concerned about it a little while ago.”
“Ah.” He waved a hand. “Once you got that wind turbine up and running, it started taking in juice again, so turned out to be nothing.”
I nodded, my teeth gritting. “How about your neighbors? Anyone need appliances fixed? Dry rot in the walls? Anything?”
“Um, I don’t think so, Father. But if anything comes up, we’ll be sure to let you know.”
Well, fuck.
I jerked my chin down in a sharp nod. “All right then. We’ll see you Sunday.”
“God bless, Father.”
Yeah, sure.
Something bright orange and yellow caught my eye as I started to turn. The flowers with their ruffled petals planted next to the Phillips’ house. Deyva had been so careful not to drop the tree branch on them.
I like marigolds, she had said.
“Hey Dan?”
“Yes, Father?”
I pointed to the wheelbarrow of mulched leaves and bark next to the flower bed. “Are you gonna pull those flowers up?”
“Yeah, it’s getting late in the season for ‘em and Jenny wants to plant spicy peppers there next year, so she wants to—”
“I’ll take them.” The words left my mouth before I could change my mind.
“Oh, sure. Go ahead.”
The next thing I knew, I was headed back toward the cottage with a fistful of marigolds, their musky aroma clinging to me as I stepped inside the now-empty dining room and made my way to the kitchen sink.
Rinsing the dirt off their roots, snipping the stems with a small pair of gardening shears—I told myself it was all just to do something, to keep myself busy.
I kept telling myself this, even as I found an empty pitcher in the top cupboard, filled it halfway with water, and stuck the flowers in it.
Only when I placed the pitcher in the center of the dining room table and entertained the thought of wondering if she’d like them, did I realize how fucked I was.
“What the fuck am I doing?” I grumbled, turning to leave again.
“Kais?”
I should have continued on my un-merry way and pretended not to hear her. But my feet stopped at the way Deyva said my name, the curious inflection in her voice.
“Hey,” I grunted casually. “Where did everyone go?”
“Stav is napping upstairs.” She tilted her head, horns pointing toward his room. “I think I wore him out. From actual sex, not feeding.”
“Ah, well thank you for clarifying.”
She bit her lip in the wake of a smile. “I think Zach went back to the church. Azariah, I’m not sure. But if he’s causing trouble, I’m sure we’ll find out.”
“I’m sure we will,” I agreed.