Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Even with the chairs empty, the two men sat casually on the floor, neither wanting to move. Trent held up his plastic bottle, and Sin tapped it with his own, then took a long drink. Then he sighed and leaned his head back against the wall.
"You know God doesn't ask us for more than we can handle, right?" Trent asked.
Sin looked over at his friend. "Ever hear why I shot my dad?"
"No."
"Remember the old cybernetics? Add too many or go too fast, and you'd flip?"
"Yeah," Trent said. "That was a long time ago."
Sin nodded. "Yeah. Like sixteen years, Brother. Dad flipped and raged out." Sin shrugged. "Went after Mom."
"Sorry," Trent said. "But you didn't refuse the prosthetics?"
"Didn't get asked," Sin said softly. "Besides, I swore I'd protect the weak at any cost. This is the price I'm paying." He held up his right hand. "Fucking carbon fiber and silicone, but it sure feels real on the inside."
"At any cost," Trent said. "So, who exactly counts as the weak? A girl who can't even choose her own meals? I'd think that counts."
"I can protect her just fine. It's my soul I'm worried about."
"Protect her from what, though?" Trent took a long drink. "Physical stuff, sure. What about the mental? The emotional? Scared you can't resist the temptation that comes with doing your duty?"
Sin nodded. "All of them."
"I got ya. So, which precepts would you break?" When Sin glared at him, Trent chuckled. "Name them for me."
"First—"
"How?" Trent asked.
Sin tapped his head. "Enhancing the body God gave me without cause."
Trent shook his head. "To help another is cause."
"Second. This girl has no will of her own, and I'm all but pushing her around half the time."
"I definitely didn't get that from her. I think she just happens to agree with you more often than not." Trent was categorically striking down his every complaint.
"Third. We're talking about stealing her from OutLink."
"Can't take what shouldn't be owned," Tent pointed out. "People fall into that category."
"Fourth," Sin said softly.
"You might have something there," Trent teased. "But are you really deceiving her? Have you told her she's disgusting? Have you presented yourself as anything but a priest?"
"No." Sin took another long drink. "Trent? She's the temptation I may not resist."
"I know." He patted Sin's shoulder. "She may also be the answer to our prayers. You ever think about that?"
Sin chuckled. "She's already offered to help. And if you want to press it, you can add the fifth. She's intoxicating when she stops trying to be a damned Ingénue."
"And fear of the sixth," Trent agreed, referencing the restriction on sex. "So, should Davis turn in his wings?"
"No."
Trent nodded. "But you know he's breaking the sixth, kinda over and over. So you hold yourself to a different standard?"
There was nothing to be said to that. Any comment he made would only weaken his stance. Sin closed his eyes and prayed softly, his face upturned. "God," he begged, "don't tempt me to stray. I have served You for sixteen years without fail, but this is too much. I am only human."
"Amen," Trent said beside him. "But Sin? Who made the precepts?"
"They're the will of God."
"Yeah. But who made them?"
"Praetor Joseph the fourth." Sinclair rubbed at his face. "Why?"
"How did he know they were the will of God?"
"You questioning your faith?"
"No," Trent promised. "I'm questioning yours."
"My faith is fine."
"Your faith in what?" Trent asked. "You're always the first to forgive and the last to fail. Why do you think God gave us these urges? Why would He make us like this if it wasn't in His plan?"
"Doctrine says it's the pull of evil." Sin shrugged that off. "I never went with the whole devil idea. Hard for me to believe in a being strong enough to bend God's will."
"Right. So why did God make us like this?"
Sin let out a dry chuckle. "Doesn't matter. Everyone knows I'm spending day after day with her. You know as well as I do that if I slip up, even in the slightest, I'll be moved to Centurion. I'll be stripped of my wings."
"Only God can truly take your wings. You also have the Fallen behind you," Trent assured him. "Sin, I'm about to make a grievous sin against the church."
"We all are."
"Just listen. The Legion isn't a damned government - we're a holy institution.
We don't force worship on others. We give them a place to do it.
We don't beat down the weak; we spare them from the rod and lash.
" Trent took a long deep breath. "We need to make the Legion a place where we are many, not just subjects of one.
We need to fix whatever is breaking in our church, and fast. That girl can help. "
"A religious revolution?"
Trent nodded. "Yeah." He patted his friend's shoulder, and chuckled. "And there's only one man I know who has a hope in hell of hearing the word of God. You. So you need to figure this shit out before everything starts falling apart."
"I'm just a fuck-up who decided to do better," Sin told him. "I'm not the man you want."
"You hear what Zan said?"
"Which part?"
"She's an angel in her mind. Damn, Sin. God works in mysterious ways, right?
You named us after the angels who fell from heaven to be with humans on earth!
Now you have an overly educated young man telling you the girl you're here to protect is an angel?
Wake the fuck up, man. God can't really make it any more clear. "
"And locking me away with this girl is the answer?" Sin asked incredulously.
Trent shrugged. "Maybe? She's the only one who survived the wipe, and it only made her more human. She has the answers. She has the need." Trent stood and smiled. "Think about it, Brother, but I'll leave you with this. Her mind, your faith—"
Sin grunted, not liking where this was going.
"—I don't think you can get closer to God than that," Trent continued. "I think you need to put aside your own pride and start listening. Even if it's something you don't expect God to tell you."
While Trent talked, Sin closed his eyes. Rissa's words, that she had faith, were so clear in his head. He felt the hairs on his arms rise. It was too many coincidences too close together.
"Trent?" he asked before the man could walk away.
"Yeah?"
"How can I tell the difference between a sign from God and my own desires?"
His friend sighed. "Faith. I'm sorry, Sin. That's all I can tell you. I've just never seen you like this before."
"I almost kissed her. Out by the car, I mean. I told her she was one of the Fallen now, and," he closed his eyes and leaned his head back, smiling. "It was like my hand had a mind of its own. I meant to ease her away, and instead, I ended up caressing her lips through that cloth mask."
Trent laughed. "You do know that's not a sin, right?"
"Pretty sure it wouldn't be just a kiss, Trent. It surely wouldn't be a damned chaste kiss."
"What does the sixth precept say?"
"'Pleasure of the body should follow pleasure of the heart, not precede it,'" Sin quoted.
Trent nodded. "And what does that mean?"
Sin chuckled. "Trying to make me repeat our initial lessons?"
"No," Trent assured him. "I'm trying to make you question the word of man, and listen to that of God. What do those words really mean?"
Sin shook his head, refusing to answer the question.
He knew what Trent was trying to say. He knew the Fallen would stand behind him even if he chose to break his vows as Davis had.
What they couldn't understand was that Rissa wasn't a physical temptation for him.
She promised him so much more, but he'd vowed his heart only to God.
"Think she knows how close I am to slipping up?"
"I think we all know this isn't easy for you," Trent said softly. "You think this is going to be a problem?"
Sin shoved his fingers through his hair and pulled his knees to his chest. "Yeah, Trent, I do. When we were waiting for you? I couldn't stop thinking she's like a damned angel, but I swore my heart to God. There's a definite line there somewhere, but fuck if I know where it is."
"Figure it out," Trent said. "Sleep on it, think about it, but ask yourself why that word keeps coming up. Three times? Four?"
Angel. Yeah, he knew. But that wasn't the part he was worried about. So he asked, "Are we meant to fail?"
"Depends on how you define fail. Have a good night, Sin."
With that, Sin was alone, sitting on the cold floor with a bottle of soda in his hands and the image of a woman in his mind.
Trent wasn't perfect, none of them were, but he'd always carried a wisdom Sin respected.
Since Rissa had stepped into his life, everything had started changing around him. Nothing he could do would stop it.
There was no way to deny something was going on with the Legion.
They had gained a more corporate mentality in recent months—nearly a year now—and abandoned all of the reasons why he'd given his life into service.
The people around him had not been lifted up from their hardships.
If anything, it had only gotten worse. Now, this?
Rissa had just shown him a chemical that might cure him and so many others of their dependence on expensive drugs, allowing them to repair their bodies without the repercussions.
Rissa. He couldn't get that woman out of his head.
She invaded his every waking thought, even though he'd never seen her face.
She'd taken a pretty big risk to get them that molecule, not to mention the pain she suffered every time she did her job, yet she asked for so little in return. She simply wanted a friend and a name.
He closed his eyes and flexed his now-working toes.
He'd been willing to take a bullet for her.
He would even be willing to die for her, but he wasn't sure he was willing to give up his commitment to God for her.
He'd made a promise, and God had kept His end of it, but seeing her in his bed, looking completely at ease?
Could he truly resist the desires she created? Would God take back all He'd given?
Because his mother was doing well, living comfortably on the upper north side.
She remembered little of the night his father had tried to kill them both.
A blow to the head had knocked her unconscious and clouded her memories of what had happened right before.
He'd been granted his one request. Sixteen years ago, Sinclair had begged God to remove his mother's suffering and keep her safe.
God had done that. In exchange, Sin had spent three years changing himself from a heathen to a proper young man.
Then, just before he'd turned eighteen, he'd given his life to the Legion and vowed to take part in nothing that could distract him from his purpose.
Regardless, he needed Rissa's mind to help them protect the church.
He needed to protect her, too. Tossing the empty soda bottle in the trash, he made sure the door was locked, then peeled out of his clothes.
Sliding under the covers, he propped his pillows against the bed and lit a cigarette, staring up at the ceiling while his body unwound.
Sucking in a long drag, he prayed with the exhale. "God, I have a feeling this isn't going to be easy. I know I don't have the right to ask for anything else, but if You could help me find my way through this, that would be great."
As always, there was no answer. Instead, his mind was stuck on those beautiful silver eyes and how they'd shined so brightly under the neon lights.