Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
At the hospital lobby, the receptionist looked up at him. Three cables were attached to her head, allowing her to monitor each floor and all incoming calls. He didn't even need to ask for the room. She took one look at his armor and weapons, another at his face, and then pointed to the elevator.
"Seventeenth floor, Father."
He didn't bother correcting her.
The elevator moved too slow. As the display beeped an announcement for each floor, Sin wondered if he was already too late.
His first responsibility was always to his angel, but Benedict was all he had left of his old life.
The Praetor had always been so vivacious, so devoted to his work.
He'd shown Sin what it meant to care more for others than for oneself.
More than all of that, he'd always been there when Sin needed him most.
When the doors opened, Sin knew he had the right floor. Priests crowded every available surface. Many wore simple clothing, others were in full combat gear, but most were in their formal attire. Only Sin still carried weapons.
"Let him through," a woman called out.
Heads turned and bodies began to drift to the side.
Sin followed the sound. Standing before a nondescript door, through the crowd, he could see Julie.
She was a tiny woman. Her short hair revealed black fauxskin across the back of her skull, setting her apart from most of the other priests around.
Yet like so many others, she made no effort to hide the tears streaming down her face.
"Sister Julie?" he asked, hoping for some update.
She pressed her curled fingers to her lips before she could manage to talk. "He's waiting for you, Sin. The doctors say there's nothing they can do, but Benedict asked if you were on assignment."
"I was. My angel sent me here."
Julie took a deep breath. "He won't make it through the night."
"I know." Sin reached up and wiped away her tears. "He'll be in the arms of the Lord."
"Amen," she whispered as he reached for the handle.
The room was dark, lit by the glow of medical devices and a small holoscreen in the corner.
Benedict lay in the bed, propped on pillows.
His eyes were closed, and the hiss of something mimicked the rhythm of breathing.
That and the bouncing line against the back wall assured Sin he was not too late.
"Praetor?" Sin asked.
The old man's eyes cracked open and one side of his mouth curled. "Hey, boy." His fingers twitched as he tried to lift his right hand.
Sin hurried to the bed and knelt, grabbing his hand before Benedict could strain himself. Then Sin lifted the ring to his lips. With his kiss, he sent one more prayer, begging for it to be worn on a worthy hand.
"May I serve only the power of God, and do His will as only He sees best," he breathed.
"Won't be much longer." Benedict's voice was slurred and weak. "I'm glad you came."
"I'm sorry I had to."
The Praetor flicked his fingers, trying to wave that away. He spoke slowly, as if dragging each word past his lips. "I need you to listen, boy. I nominated you to be the next Praetor—"
"I can't," Sin said.
"Shh. I did that a year ago. If they accept, you must say no. The girl is important. She has the answers."
"She's an Ingénue, Benedict. Of course she does."
Benedict patted his hand. "I just feel like she's important. God wants you to protect her."
"Then that's what I'll do," Sin swore.
"Stop butting in. Listen," Benedict ordered.
Sin nodded, refusing to interrupt again.
The Praetor's voice was too weak. "The first precept.
They want to enforce it. They want to eradicate any who break it.
Do not let the Legion turn against the flock.
I need you to guard them, boy—the flock.
The whole flock. I need you to make sure the Legion is not used against the innocent.
" He paused, fighting his own throat. "Even sinners are innocent. We can all be forgiven."
"I promise," Sin whispered, holding Benedict's hand tightly.
The old man smiled. "The combination to my safe is your birthday. Empty it. Do not tell them."
"What's going on?" Sin asked.
He tapped one finger on Sin's thumb. "Blue nails.
This wasn't God's will, Sin. This was the work of a man.
I need you to protect the faith and the faithful.
It's heavy metals. Not my mind. The doctors told the press what I asked, buying us a little time.
There's a wolf in our midst, and you must protect the flock. "
"From what?" Sin asked.
Benedict's hand slowly slid down and tapped at Sin's dark fingers. The synthetic ones. "God gave us brains and expected us to use them. Listen and he will lead you, Sinclair. He always has." He smiled and let his eyes close. "You are what I'm most proud of. The son I never had. I love you, boy."
That was the first time Benedict had ever said those words.
He'd taken Sin off the streets when he was only fifteen and showed him a better option.
After the accident with his father, Benedict had made arrangements with the police, testifying in court that the boy would never harm anyone without just cause.
That had kept him from serving time, thanks to an agreement that Sin would join the church by the time he turned eighteen.
Two days before his birthday, he had. Benedict had put him off that long, telling him he needed to live a little before he dedicated his life to service.
Now, for the last thirteen years he'd been in the priesthood, the Praetor had been everything to him a father should be, but he'd never once told Sin he loved him, not like this.
He'd spoken the words as a priest, but never as just a man.
"I love you too," Sin whispered. "You made me the man I am. You shaped every part of me, and I swear I will never forget that. Benedict, I'm going to miss you so much."
"I'll be watching," Benedict promised. "Maybe I'll even get my own wings.
" The old man lifted his chin to the door.
"Now go on. I don't want you to watch me die, and I can't keep my eyes open much longer.
Just remember what I said, ok? Use your brain, Sinclair.
Nothing in the Good Book is set in stone, not even the first precept.
There's nothing wrong with you. Not a damned thing. "
With tears filling his eyes, Sin stood. His voice refused to work, so he did the next best thing. He leaned over and kissed the Praetor's head gently. Pressing his cheek against Benedict's hair, Sin left moisture in his wake. Then, with a heavy heart, he stood and looked at Benedict one last time.
"You were the best father I ever had. May you find peace in God's arms, Benedict."
"Amen," the old man whispered.
Sin left then, making no effort to hide his anguish. They all knew the two had been close. It had seemed like a foolish thing to hide. Julie tried to stop him, but he wasn't in the mood, so he pushed through the crowd until he reached the elevator. There, he pressed the button.
Nothing happened, so he pressed it again.
Panic began to build in his heart. He had to leave the hospital.
He had to be out of the building before Benedict died.
He needed to get to the safe. From what Benedict had said, something important was in there, and Sin needed to find it fast. Still, the elevator did nothing.
Sin pressed it again—this time with his fist.
"Sinclair," Julie hissed. "The building does not understand grief, and your actions reflect on the Praetor!"
"Leave me alone, Jules."
The elevator finally dinged, and he took the chance to escape, but Julie wasn't willing to make it easy. She stepped through the door with him, reaching up to gently push the button for the first floor.
"Benedict told me to watch you," she whispered.
He chuckled. "Yeah. He told me a few things too."
She nodded, her eyes locked on the numbers slowly ticking down. "He said your angel can solve this problem. He wondered if this might be why God wanted you to watch over her."
"He tell you what the problem is?" Sin asked.
"No," Julie breathed. "He just said the first precept is a part of it. It shouldn't be, but it is now." She reached up to scratch at the back of her neck, and Sin grabbed her wrist.
"Who else is enhanced? What priests, Julie?"
"Us, Rob, Davis, and a dozen regular priests who joined later in life. Why?"
"The first precept," he said. "Respect life. It's been taken to be the same thing as avoid enhancement, but it never said that. The Good Book says we should respect the life God made and find joy in its beauty, but there's no prohibition on using modern medicine."
"Right?"
"So why did Benedict want you to watch over me, not Trent?"
She sniffed and rubbed at her nose. "Because Trent can be an insensitive ass?"
"And he's a normal," Sin said. "What's the fastest way back to the Legion from here?"
"Green train to 82nd, gold to the lower south, take the skywalk across the river. You can't leave now, Sin." She glanced back to the elevator. "He doesn't have much time."
Sin nodded. "I said my words. Stay here. I have something I promised him I'd do."
When he stepped off the elevator, Julie made no move to follow.
Sin walked through the lobby again, but this time he wasn't in a rush.
The receptionist looked up, her eyes large and filled with sympathy, but he didn't give her the chance to say anything.
He simply kept walking. For now, he had a purpose, and that would hold him until he made it home.
He left the building and turned, heading for the train station.
A waft of smoke drifted to him, reminding Sin he hadn't had a cigarette in a while.
Naturally, that made his mind suddenly crave one.
Just as he reached into his pocket for his pack, he saw Trent.
The man's back was pressed against the stone wall, and ashes hung in a precarious arc from the end of his lips.
The cigarette they'd once been had all but burned out.
"You talk to him?" Sin asked, claiming a spot on the wall beside him.
"Yeah." Like Sin, Trent still wore both his armor and his weapons. "Some lady on the train told me. I was on my way to meet my new angel."
Sin nodded, pulling in a deep breath of nicotine. "He say anything?"
Trent glanced quickly at Sin then turned his eyes back to the buildings before them. "Yep. He said not to lose the faith, but my place was in the ranks. He said I could see what others couldn't, and he thought it might end up important. Said not to piss off the new Praetor."
Sin chuckled. "Yeah. That's one thing you're good at."
"Had some practice," Trent admitted. "Don't know how Benedict kept from killing me."
Sin shrugged and glanced over at his friend. "Probably gave you some task that ended up with you walking past a door you couldn't resist."
"Yeah," Trent said with a sigh. "He sure did. I stared at that brand for a long time before I found the courage to ask why it was there."
"What did he tell you?" Sin asked.
Trent chuckled. "Probably the same thing he told you. Something about how the hand of God had to prove he could take the pain before he received the kiss of the Lord."
Sin shook his hand, flinging the butt of his smoke to the ground, then smothered it to death under his heel. "I didn't ask," he admitted. "Made sense to me as soon as I saw it. Trent, I have to go."
Trent nodded slowly. "Sin? If what he's hinting at is true? You know you can still trust me, right?"
"Always, Brother."
They shared a meaningful look, then Sin turned away. The train wasn't far, and he had his thoughts to keep him company. Right now, he really didn't have time for anything else. He glanced at the sky and kept walking. He couldn't even find the time for God.