CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Hey, that lady nun is here looking for how to get to the ‘combative man’s hatch,’” Rex said with a grin. “I invited her in, but she declined.”
Spar stood from the stool and handed him the potato peeler. “Your shift starts early.”
Rex snatched it from him with a laugh. “Go get your hot nun.”
Spar smacked his cap off his head before he headed out.
“Ohhhh, you done started something now,” Rex called, making him chuckle.
“Nah, you started it,” he called as he headed to the porch, grinning. Their never-ending tiffs were actually started when they were nine and had never stopped. They’d finally decided that they didn’t need to fight to fight, they could just fight for fun since it was obvious it was their favorite thing to do. And after fighting side by side in the Noctambule war, nothing could separate them. Their scars were trophies they carried around with much flare. Rex had more but Spar just reminded him no scars meant better defenses. But the truth was, when Spar was shot and bleeding out, Rex not only took all the hits to protect him, he patched him up with sticks, mud and pine sap. He owed him his life and of course paid him back in that same war where blood flew without pride or prejudice. They’d both lost plenty and Rex nearly died on several occasions.
Good times.
Spar opened the inner foyer door that led to the porch’s screened entry. He spotted the odd little angel inspecting the array of fall vegetation along the front porch of the Basilique. He listened, realizing she was talking to herself. No, she was talking to the flowers. Sister Scarlett. With not a single red thing on her. The contradiction somehow fit.
“And look at you, the splendor of all,” she said, touching one of the yellow flowers. “You’ve captured the sun’s warm smile perfectly in your delicate petals for all eyes to see. Very good show!”
He opened the door, and she quickly straightened, shielding her eyes as she angled her head up. “Sister,” he greeted with an easy smile while hoping that was right, as she made her way up the steps. “What can I do for you?”
He eyed her angelic features under the bright light of midday, wondering what felt the need to put worry on her delicate brows. Her delicate everything, he realized, taking in her gray wool hooded cloak that went to her ankles. He spied her tiny feet covered in some kind of shoe with floral patterns. The shoes an individual wore meant a lot of things, especially in the swamps. He met her gaze, finding her gray eyes sharp with the business that brought her there.
“I spoke to my superior as you requested,” she began, her hands moving up to smooth the dark hair likely drawn in a bun if he had to guess. “And I have obtained permission to begin training with you.”
“Really,” he said, mildly surprised for some reason.
She nodded her semi-lowered head, reminding him of a misplaced doll from another era. Only she didn’t know she was a doll or that she was lost in the wrong place and so carried on being a doll.
“When do you want to begin?” he asked.
“Well, that’s what I was hoping to discuss.” She dug a folded piece of paper from her front coat pocket and opened it. Then handed it to him. “This is my idea. If it’s not suitable for you, then just say so and tell me what is. I’ll accommodate you.”
She said all that with her head half lowered, the servant posturing making him uncomfortable, especially coming from a nun. Only one person needed to be groveling on that porch and it sure as hell wasn’t her.
He looked at the paper, noticing the handwriting first. Print, not cursive, thank fuck. He was never good reading the fancy ABC’s. He was impressed with her print, though. The letters reminded him of an army of warriors, all solid, perfect sized, and standing in a row of such precision it might have sent a ripple of pride through his nether regions.
“Our new job is here in the South Swamp,” she said. “So I’ll be residing wherever they place me.”
“In my Hatch,” he proposed as he finally read her suggestion that was in the form of a very simple contract.
Two hours of training per day. First hour—spiritual training. Second hour—physical training. To be conducted together in a single session, six days a week. The Lord’s work on the seventh.
In God’s Grace,
Sincerely,
Sister Scarlett.
So few words. That ability alone was promising for…. hell, everything.
“What about your Hatch?” she asked, her voice careful.
He regarded her, not understanding.
“You said ‘In my Hatch’.”
“I mean you in my Hatch would make training easier for both of us.”
She missed a few beats then recovered. “I’ll have to speak to my superior—”
“I’ll do that,” he said, ready to assist in something. “Who would I need to speak to?”
Her brow melted in consideration before the little pucker returned. “I’m not sure now that I think about it.”
Instant honesty. Nice. Humility. Good.
“The Quantum King or Dr. Harlow is my thought,” she said.
“I’ll let you know when I arrange it.” He wondered then, “Do you have a phone?”
Her bright gray eyes met his with her stern, “Yes sir, I do.”
Respect. Good.
Flawless skin. Too pretty for the harsh swamp.
“I’ll give you my number or you give me yours so that you’re not having to travel half the swamp just to reach me.”
Her stern expression cleared instantly. “Oh, it was my pleasure,” she assured with sputtered nods, her smile making a first appearance, throwing a million more details at him about her. “I very much love the outdoors and wanted to see as much as I could. Plus, I need to meet all my new neighbors and I’ve calculated that might take me quite some time.”
“If you plan to visit each one, it’ll take you a year. ”
The look of surprise was quickly overtaken with determination. “Whatever it takes then. A year, two years.”
Dedication. Definitely a necessary strength. But for what purpose?
“You plan to visit every last one?”
The question seemed to stump her, and she wondered with mild worry, “Well yes, is… is that going to be a problem?”
He had to chuckle. “For you, yes.” He regarded the swing on the far end of the porch. It was chilly out, but she seemed to be enjoying it. “You want to have a seat on the swing, and I’ll get you a cup of Mah-Mah’s famous dirty water soup?”
His smile spread at the perplexed concern on her face. She glanced at the swing. Then back at him. “I would love a cup, thank you.”
Good. Would give him more time to pick her quirky little brain. He saluted her with a single finger. “Coming right up.”
****
Scarlett held on to the ledge of the swing under her, dragging her screaming pulse back to the calm waters of holiness. Least he was fully dressed. But he was somehow bigger than she remembered. Maybe the black flannel shirt. Or the… clinging black t-shirt beneath it. Black army looking pants and boots to o. A distant fashion memory said black was supposed to make things look smaller, not bigger. Either way…
She thought about his wife. She must be quite… fit to accommodate his needs. Holy saints, her mind stayed in the gutter lately. Partly because she heard they were getting back to creating soldiers immediately. And they had the ability to create a whole twelve of them in a single week. A dozen warriors needing wives. And she was informed that her spot at the end of the list applied to the first set of sisters, not the two hundred. That meant she was getting married in a week, not a year.
Oh, she’d tried talking Sister Isla out of the whole training idea, so sure she’d have seen her side of things but the exact opposite happened. And Scarlett had argued with her. She’d never done that before. But if he was a married man and she was to be wed in seven days, weren’t both highly inappropriate? Nope, it went rather perfectly with the highly inappropriate events happening in the world. She should train as long as she could and use the opportunity to bring the Lord to this fierce leader, that’s what she said. Well, Scarlett had no issues at all with that and was in fact eager to do this with the families. Not the warriors. But Sister Isla won that round with more inescapable logic. If the leaders of the Hatch were properly spiritualized, they’d have that to pass to their members, helping the nuns with their job.
She finally gave in when Sister Isla got the all-knowing look on her face and aimed it right at Scarlett. Whatever she saw or thought she saw, Scarlett did not want to wait around to find out, so she immediately surrendered and left.
Just what had she seen? No doubt wondering why she was making such a fuss and if it was because of the Leader. Yes, it was, and no it was not, was the answer to that. Scarlett still thought she had no business in a physical anything with another married man especially being a woman promised to a soldier in only a week!
And what of his wife? Wouldn’t she be jealous of such a thing?
Scarlett wasn’t sure how those things worked, really. Daddy had passed away and she was sent to surrender herself to the service of the Lord due to the false gender crisis she was accused of having. Just because a girl knows how to act like a boy didn’t mean she wanted to be one. Apparently, a girl couldn’t want to be strong and fearless and able to take care of herself, apparently that was some kind of abomination, only it wasn’t, Scarlett knew better even at the age of fourteen.
It was that bratty Patty’s fault. She’d liked Scarlett, or Scar, as Patricia nicknamed her for all the scars she’d gotten from frolicking in the woods doing unlady-like things. Well, stupid Patricia wanted to be her girlfriend. Scarlett told her off good and that was mistake number one. She hauled off and started telling lies about things they’d done when they most surely had not done a single one of them. The saying that folks’ll buy a lie before they even price the truth was a crime Scarlett never dreamed she’d ever experience. But it was determined not six months after the death of her father that she was guilty and in need of a life altering, heart crushing something to change her abominable ways.
Well, no doubt about it. Being sent to that convent was surely life changing. The heart crushing part was having those she loved more than anything not believe a word she said, or begged and swore. She’d gone from being a daughter and sister, to a plague. She was dropped off and cut off. They never came to visit her, not even once. Not even the horrible abuse she and the sisters suffered hurt as much.
It was a nightmare only the Lord himself could do a thing about. And praise His holy name, He had . There she was in the swamps about to do what she had committed herself to. No longer a prisoner behind those evil cement walls where devils dressed up like angels of mercy and made a horrible mockery of God, she was free to truly serve. Sister Isla saved all the sisters from believing the wicked song and dance by their unholy superiors. She taught them to take the suffering just like their good Lord took it for the souls of humanity. As soldiers of Christ, their vocation meant keeping that daily death alive by carrying His holy flame to the rest of humanity.
Her mind returned to the matter at hand. The giant leader named Spar. Mr. Spar, that’s what you need to refer to him as, she reminded herself. Mind your holy manners .
And what in the world was dirty water soup? Mercy. She was instructed to eat whatever was put before her and she’d never faltered there. Lord, gird up my stomach and chain down my regurgitation reflexes. Or maybe just hide my tastebuds. You know the best route there. I’ll just leave it to Your holy angels that are faithfully patrolling the comings and goings of all things.
The screen door opened and she shot up off the swing only to realize she didn’t know why she should or what was proper to do. He further multiplied her etiquette failures by coming at her with a smile that literally knocked her off her high holy horse. A whole ten seconds passed before he raised the giant red mug higher in her dumbstruck face. A disgraceful burst of odd noises spilled from her babbling lips as she reached for the mug.
“How about you sit, and I’ll hand it to you. It’s hot.”
Desperate for anything that didn’t require her to use her brain, she did exactly that. He sat next to her and held the mug before her with the handle available to take. Her brain again went to work about how she might get it without touching him. Take. The cup!
“Sorry,” she said when her fingers brushed his.
He gave a low chuckle and said, “We’ll be doing a lot more than brushing fingers soon, Sister.”
Her pulse became a bouncing ball in her veins but his warning nearly made her drop the mug! “I’m not afraid of touch,” she blurted.
“I didn’t say you were afraid,” he corrected. “But… it would be understandable.”
She fought to redirect her thoughts and stared down at the contents in the mug, her guts screaming no, wait, wait!
“It’s actually very good,” he said. “Try it.”
“W-what’s in it?” she asked, her light conversation tone squeaking out.
“Dark chocolate, mint, and I think pumpkin. And broth.”
“Broth,” she said, the word sounding as dirty as the ingredient. She brought the mug to her nose for a sniff.
“Gator tailbone broth. The good stuff’s always in the a… rear.”
Oh God! She couldn’t believe it. She was stuck between drinking gator butt bones and thinking about how much more they’d be touching soon.
“Your face is priceless. I swear it tastes great. ”
She was behaving like a toddler, not a spiritual warrior. She brought the mug to her mouth and held her breath, taking a tiny sip. She exhaled and looked at the floating marshmallows and sipped again, more this time. Was he toying with her? It tasted like the best hot chocolate she’d ever had.
“Well?” he asked when she took a bigger sip.
He was at it again with his smile and she nodded, staring down into the cup. “Do you play this trick on all the newcomers?”
His laugh told on him but what it was telling had nothing to do with the drink. Hell’s teeth were snapping at her heels.
“What trick?”
She nodded. “You got me. I bought every bit and only the good Lord kept my breakfast in my stomach over just the idea of such a nasty thing.”
He was laughing more then finally said, “It wasn’t a trick, it has everything I said in it. Would you like me to call Mah-Mah right now and have her verify?”
She regarded him, back to mildly queasy. “Maybe everybody is in on the trick. Surely, I’d taste such a thing in my drink.”
“Oh man, you’re gonna be a lot of fun,” he said, cocking his leg out before him while her mind chased down what that meant to him. She sipped more of the drink, determined to believe it was indeed a newcomer joke .
He leaned forward and reached behind him, pulling a paper from his pocket, and opening it. She realized it was the agreement. “So, we doing this today? I’m free until this evening at eight. We’re having a big gumbo for the Marsh Kings and their new friends. You staying for it?”
She lowered the mug, scattered again. “I’m… supposed to…”
“Come on,” he cajoled. “You said you wanted to meet the people. You can teach me some spiritual take downs, I’ll teach you some physical ones, then you can eat. Put some meat on those little bones.”
Take downs, what was he meaning? “What kind of… take downs do you mean?”
“Kind of a figure of speech. I’ll start with teaching you moves for handling physical attacks of various kinds. You practice them until you perfect them. Then after that, maybe I’ll teach you how to Cajun dance.”
Dance with him ? “I don’t… I didn’t come prepared to go to a party.”
“What do you need? Doesn’t matter, whatever it is, Mah-Mah will fix you up. It’s her favorite thing to do.”
She never knew how to take his words. “Who will be there?” she asked, not recalling talk of such a thing with any of the sisters. And they would surely know if it involved a party. Parties to them were like trips to the moon. “You mentioned Marsh friends. ”
“The human side of Quantum crew. I believe Dr. Harlow, his brothers and their wives for sure. Maybe a couple of the other sisters. What should I call you, by the way? Sister seems a little… eh… Sis I can handle.”
“You can call me Scarlett,” she said, also not comfortable with the sister title either. Not so sure about the sis. With him.
“And you can call me Spar. I think we’re going to make a kickass team, what do you think?”
She surely didn’t know what that even meant to him. “I’ll do my best. And… I’m sure you will too.”
“So, it’s official? Me and you? Teaming up with this?”
“I mean… as long as I’m able. I’m afraid I only have a week though.”
“A week,” he said, flatly. “That’s not long enough. Why just a week?”
“I…” Oh mercy, she couldn’t tell him… wait, why couldn’t she? He likely already knew, how wouldn’t they? “I’m scheduled for…” Scheduled? Like a surgery? “I’m proposed,” she blurted. “To be married. To… one of Quantum King soldiers. Along with the rest of my sisters,” she added, not wanting to stand alone in that spotlight suddenly.
“Really,” he muttered, clearly not happy. But why? The training? “That’s… ”
She glanced at him, finding him staring with an angled head at the air before him. “Very disappointing.”
“It’s been planned before we ever… discussed such a venture.”
“So, you really thought we’d train for a single week ?”
“No,” she said. “I was just informed last night about it.”
“You said it was planned.”
“It was, and I just thought… well there are so many of us and I asked to be put last on the list and I was. Only I didn’t realize it was the short list, the first of the sisters that came for that purpose.”
“Well, there’s two hundred other available nuns, surely one can take your place for at least a little while?”
“Oh…no,” she said, shaking her head. “They’re all terrified and I wouldn’t dream of asking that.”
“But so are you.”
She looked right at him, not understanding the meaning of his interrogation. “Of course I’m nervous about it, who wouldn’t be? That’s not why I got at the end of the line, it was to have as much freedom as I could before returning to being restricted in the things I would prefer doing, like helping the lost and downtrodden and-and people who are hurting and in need of Christ. My vocation,” she finished breathless. “ I can’t exactly do that if I’m stuck being a wife who has to consider the needs of her husband.” She let out a gasp at hearing herself. Why he was smiling.
He leaned his head toward her. “So, you don’t want to marry a soldier.”
Her stomach tensed more somehow. “I just made it very clear to you that I in fact do want to—”
“Basically, do what the soldiers are doing? Helping people?”
Her mouth hung open as annoyance pricked her stiff spine. “I am committed,” she said with a finality. “And that trumps all else.”
He was nodding and smiling—rudely nodding and smiling. “You don’t have to marry a soldier,” he informed, baffling her.
“I just told you I do, I am committed.”
“You’re committed to your vocation, and you don’t need to marry a soldier to do that and in fact you just said it’d be better without marrying a soldier.”
She hit exasperation with that one. “Well, you can say it fifty times in fifty ways Mr. Spar, and I will still say I am committed to this cause that I agreed to.”
He turned a little, putting his arm behind her on the top of the swing. “Look, you want out of it? I can get you out. I’ll tell them you’re not ready, you need some time. They’ll find other females to mate their soldiers to. ”
“Unbelievable,” she marveled lightly, facing fully forward. “I think you are being deliberately obtuse, and I don’t feel the need to repeat myself because you’ve decided to treat my words like a… fool’s babbling.”
“I’m not saying don’t ever do it, I’m saying give yourself the time you want to do what you just told me you wanted to do. Hell, they can borrow a swamp woman to fill your place, we’ve got a whole list of them, and from what I’ve personally learned, some will marry for just about any reason.”
His logic and her frustration created a word pile up on her tongue that rendered her a huff-sputtering mute.
“I’m just trying to help,” he added lightly, his tone making her wonder about that.
“And why would you? Is it my spiritual teaching that has you clamoring for more time? I don’t see why this is a concern for you.”
He regarded her with a glance and grin. “Clamoring,” he muttered, fully amused. “I’m not makin’ racket about it.”
“I think you are.”
He swung the swing slowly with his legs, which she of course noticed were massive.
“Call it habit,” he confessed on a light sigh.
“To concern yourself with other people’s personal affairs? ”
“Yep. Hatch leaders often have to get in the muck of things. I just hate to see people forced into something they don’t need to be in.”
“The only person forcing me is me.”
“I see that.”
“And what is so wrong with me sticking to my commitments?”
“Ah, lil’ sis,” he lamented. “It ain’t your sticking power that’s the problem, it’s the commitment you’re wasting it on.”
She sat there, truly dumbfounded, and without a doubt her face mirrored it. Then there was the lil’ sis part that played its own stupid game on her frayed nerves. She turned toward him then ran into his green gaze, sending her in immediate retreat far far from it. She needed to do things with her body and was stuck holding the mug and her holy maturity facade which was now cracked to kingdom come. “It’s not that simple,” she finally blurted, the only thing that matched the chaos in her mind.
“Oh, it is,” he assured quietly. “And your will is free as a bird to do whatever your pure holy heart desires. Just remember what I offered. You’re facing down devils and I’m letting you know you have back up. You don’t have to fight the entire legion alone. Let people in to help you.”
All her breath left her lungs as his words plunged into her heart ‘til she couldn’t breathe. Every battle she’d ever fought rose up inside her. From the very painful day she was ripped from her family, on through the countless nights she fought the nightmares born of sexual abuse from unholy superiors. The tears began to spill, and she hurried to wipe them.
“Whoa,” Spar said as he realized the person next to him was suddenly falling apart. He took the mug from her and set it down. “Fuck, I’m… I didn’t mean to upset you.”
She shook her head as a full sob gushed out. “It’s alright,” she gasped, covering her face.
“Hey, hey,” he soothed. Then his big arm went around her shoulders, breaking through the flimsy control remaining. “Let it out, that’s good.” More sobs came as he stroked her head with his hand, opening something inside her where a crippled girl who’d lost all hope in humanity hid. And out she came, somebody she didn’t even recognize wrapping her horrifically skinny and scarred arms around him. Because somehow, this part of her remembered the face of true decency. And it was him. He was safe. He was good. He was…
She shoved out of his arms, remembering. “I’m so sorry.”
He gave a confused chuckle. “For what?”
“You’re a married man,” she gasped, swiping the tears from her face as they fought to return at the thought of her first and only male friend never able to be her refuge .
“Actually, I’m divorced,” he said, snapping her gaze up to his. He draped his arm on the back of the swing again, becoming the warm, safe couch to curl up on.
“Divorced,” her mouth said.
“We were never officially married because we had no… relations,” he stressed with an angled look at her. “She divorced me for the sum of five thousand dollars.”
Confusion sat on her entire face with that one. “I don’t…”
“She was offered money to divorce me, and she took it. We were only married for a couple of months.” He shrugged. “I deserved a lot worse.”
“What do you mean?” she wondered, sure that wasn’t true. “What sort of a woman would do this to another human being?”
He angled a tummy twirling grin at her. “I rolled Fate Dice for my wife and ended up with Wondering Wanda. Always wondering how much money anybody and everybody had. I learned my lesson. Damn good. Never use the Fate Dice for matters that belong to the heart. Or common sense.”
Her heart wasn’t sure what song to dance to, the dirge or the jubilee, leaving it to stumble about in her chest. He wasn’t married. Oh mercy.
She put five more inches of distance between them. “I’m to be married!” she couldn’t keep from gasping .
The sound of his rich laugh undid her. “It was just a hug, lil’ sis.”
She swallowed as shame lit up her cheeks. She was acting like a hormonal teenager. “We don’t… touch men, it’s… it’s not something we ever do. Not even in our ministerial duties, outside of nursing.”
“I get it. And I’m glad. You don’t need to be hugging men. But on occasion,” he hurried as if feeling the cringe crippling her. “On very rare occasions,” he added. “It’s perfectly okay. And this was one of those times.” He raised his hands, further confirming their innocence. “I’m just a brother, caring about his lil’ sis.”
Oh mercy.
Her sobs returned with a vengeance.
“Awww, come here,” he said, pulling her back into his body and wrapping her in his arms. “You’re alright now. You’re safe in these swamps. No devil’s gonna fuck with you out here, not as long as I have breath. And if you don’t want to marry a cyborg, then you don’t have to. Just say the word, and I’ll do whatever the hell it takes to make it all go away.”