Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
Things didn't slow down until that evening. At some point, Benedict had passed away, creating a flurry of activity. In truth, that was the only reason Sin could keep going. As long as he had a list of things to do, he wouldn't break down. Not yet.
The Praetor's body had been moved to the Legion for preparation.
The Conclave had been summoned. Benedict's quarters were now being emptied, but Sin had already cleared out the safe.
Just like Benedict had asked, he'd taken everything, returning to his apartment to sort it all out.
To do that, he needed help, so he'd left a message at the bar for Trent to come over.
Now, the man was standing inside his door, but Sin was still busy.
Holding one finger in the air, Sin begged his friend to wait.
"Yeah," he said, knowing it looked like he was speaking to himself.
"No, I understand completely. Actually, the timing works out.
Yes. Yes. Yes, I will be in the Conclave.
Yes, we will announce a new Praetor after the funeral.
Thank you. Yes. May God bless you. Uh-huh.
Yes. Thank you. Bye." He pressed the spot beside his ear and looked up. "Sorry, Trent, that was OutLink."
"They're calling you at home now?" Trent asked.
Sin rocked his head in neither a yes nor a no. "Work. My number's on file."
Trent walked over and grabbed the remote, pointing it at the holoscreen.
"Yeah. Speaking of that... So, I was helping Julie and Thomas with social media a few hours ago.
There've been countless supportive comments, a few of the typical rude ones, and this.
" He scrolled through a list, clicking to enlarge a selected remark.
May he fly with angels. Let us not forget that in this time of sorrow, those who knew the Praetor best will be those who hurt the most. I, for one, will respect their need for mourning. May God watch over them all. —Princess
Sin took a long, deep breath and lowered himself into the chair. "You sure it's her?"
Trent chuckled. "Nope. But someone called Princess has said about the same thing on every site I know of, including your three most popular fan sites." He dropped the remote and headed to the fridge, pulling out a pair of sodas. "Why Princess? Wouldn't Rissa be safer?"
"No," Sin said, accepting the Coke. "Princess is generic enough to go unnoticed, and it's what I call her. Doesn't raise any eyebrows at OutLink, and it kinda fits. I also think she likes it."
Trent huffed at that. "Yeah, well, seems like she wanted you to get her message."
Sin tapped the side of his head. "That call was OutLink telling me she had a system failure and will require repairs.
She didn't want me to worry." He smiled and gestured at the screen.
"That's her way of telling me it was an intentional issue.
She made sure I'm not required to babysit during the standard mourning period. "
"Damn," Trent muttered. "She's good."
"She's amazing." Sin tilted up the bottle, sucking back a long drink.
"They're all smart, you know. I mean, they were enhanced to be, but Rissa's different.
She's not locked into a box like the rest of them.
She looks at a problem from all sides, in three dimensions, plus time and space, before answering. "
"And everything's a problem to her, huh?"
"Yeah," Sin agreed. "It's all she has." He sighed and took another drink. "Thing is, I wish I could talk to her right now. This shit doesn't make sense."
"Well, Benedict knew something."
"Yeah, and a fucking priest attacked me," Sin pointed out. "Well, Rissa, but he knew I was there."
Trent grunted and reached for the crate taken from the Praetor's office. "What's this shit?"
Sinclair had managed to empty the safe, but he'd never gotten the chance to ask about any of it.
"Some of this is pretty obvious," Sin said.
"I mean, records of the finances, stacks of dime drives, and just basic information.
Some of it," and he held up a small velvet box, "makes me wonder how long he knew. "
Carefully opening the lid, Sin exposed a large gold ring pillowed in soft foam. The insignia was etched precisely. The stone was made to serve as a seal. They both knew it well; they'd kissed it countless times.
"How'd you get that?" Trent asked.
"It was in the safe."
Trent made no move to touch the ring. "So, what was on his hand?"
Sin shrugged as he pulled the ring from its protections, tilting it in the light. "A copy? This is the real thing, Trent. The back of the stone is marked."
"Wait. Maybe he wore the other in public, just in case it was lost?"
Carefully placing the ring back in its box, Sin sighed. "He knew it would be. Trent, he told me not to accept the position. He all but told me the Legion is headed down the wrong path."
"Yeah. Me too." Trent rubbed at his head. "Ok. What else?"
Sin tossed over a bag. When it hit Trent's hands, it jingled softly. Pulling open the drawstring, he looked inside and lifted out a tangle of chains. "What the fuck is this?"
"Pendants." Sin pulled the one he always wore over his shirt.
"They have the Legion's symbol, but the eye is open and the wings are broken.
There's seven of them, and those are real gold, Trent.
They're made from the same metal as the eye in the cathedral, but the eye is open instead of closed, and the wings are broken instead of raised. "
"He was trying to tell us something," Trent mumbled.
"But what? And how did he know to make seven? The five of us, sure. I can even see him guessing about Rissa, but Zan?"
"Maybe it's one for each virtue?" Trent guessed.
"Or vice." Sin gestured to the bag. "Keep one. They were clearly made for us. He knew about our group. He'd asked me about it, so I have no doubts those were made for us."
Trent carefully unwound one chain from the tangle of the rest. "I get why he made one for his priests. But why Rissa? She doesn't believe, does she? Why would he give her a symbol of our God?"
"I don't know," Sin admitted. "She doesn't believe, but she's the angel? Benedict told me she was important, though. Over and over he told me that, and he said my first duty is to protect her." He licked his lips, trying to find the right words. "He said she has the answers."
"Sounds like something out of the Third Exodus." Trent stood and shoved the necklace into his pocket. "Ok. But that's not why I came by. Look, I've been hearing things. Benedict was right. There's a whole lot of upset about enhancements. Heard some talk about extremists."
"In the Legion?" Sin asked.
Trent just shrugged. "No clue. Just priests talking about the fringe wanting to eradicate anyone who's gone against God's word. Some comments on social media about blowing 'them' up. Not sure who they mean, but figured you'd want to know."
"Heard anything in the Legion?" Sin asked carefully.
The stout priest leaned forward and pressed his head into his hands. "Yeah," Trent said. "It isn't good, Sin."
"Just tell me."
"Well, you got a little too much attention with that trial. Media's running rampant with your response, and there's been a lot of speculation."
"Because I killed a priest," Sin muttered.
"No, because you had good points," Trent countered. "Because you're enhanced and so high up in our hierarchy, but still killed an unenhanced priest."
"But I was found to be justified! Besides, Rissa's the one who took his life."
Trent's eyes met his. "And you're both enhanced."
Unconsciously Sin massaged the last two fingers on his right hand.
They felt real, at least on the inside. The skin was a little too smooth and soft on the outside.
Fauxskin never callused, and it didn't scar.
Of course, the color of it was a dead giveaway, but his arm and hand weren't visible beneath his armor.
"It wasn't my choice," Sin muttered.
A large hand pressed on his shoulder. "I know," Trent assured him.
"I was the one who carried your ass into the hospital, Brother.
Benedict approved the repairs before you'd even made it there.
He said God would not punish His own hands for a job well done, so your modifications were not a breach of the first precept. "
Sin held up his arm and bent the last two fingers. "Respect life," he said, staring at his hand. "Even I don't know what to think. I mean, I was raised to believe frivolous enhancement is wrong, but what about medical repairs? Is it truly frivolous?"
"Are antibiotics?" Trent asked back. "Half of our medications are made from killed bacteria. Is that respecting life? What about eating meat? The Good Book does not say where we should draw the line. It only says we should have respect."
"Yeah," Sin agreed, the answer not helping at all. "So, if a modified priest can't even figure out the answer, what about you normals?"
Trent chuckled at that. "Hell, Sin, I think I'm more accepting of it than you are. Doesn't mean all of us are, though." He sighed. "Thing is, they want you to resign as Imperator."
"No."
"Didn't say you should," Trent agreed hurriedly. "Just figured you'd like to hear the whispers. Brother Adam is being cited as the preferred replacement."
"Brother Adam?" Sin gasped. "Adam? He's lost half his angels! He refuses to risk his own body—"
"Because he's scared of being injured and modified," Trent said.
"Why not you?" Sin gestured at Trent's very unenhanced body. "Your record is impeccable, you aren't modified..."
Trent shook his head. "Not taking your job."
"You will if it's good for the Legion," Sin told him. "I never asked for the position. My vow was to do God's work, not to gain fame or glory."
"Mine too," Trent shot back. "Damn it, Sin. Why would I put my name forward for that shit? It's your position!"
Sin leaned back, a wry chuckle sliding past his lips. "Because Benedict told you to."
The man stilled. "Fuck."
"Nope," Sin teased. "Sixth precept. Not allowed."
Trent didn't even acknowledge the bad joke. "You want me to do this? You really want me to put my name forward to replace you as the head of the Legates?"
Sin slowly nodded. "They're going to replace me anyway, right? Yes, I'm going to fight it, but I'd rather know God's hands are taken care of."
"Yeah," Trent whispered. Slowly he looked up, shook his head, then turned away. "Sin, I think shit's going to get real bad. Pretty sure we need to stop meeting like this."
"Yeah."
"And if you really want me to do this?" He gestured at the bag of pendants. "I'm going to have to play the part."
"I know," Sin assured him. "That's why I want you to have a pendant. You need to be good enough that even I won't be sure you're on my side."
Trent leaned over and grabbed the velvet box, opened the lid, then kissed the ring.
"I will not swear to you, Sinclair, but I vow to God that I will do what I think is right.
I swore to uphold His word and to protect His flock, not our own prejudices and ideals.
No matter what, I will not deviate from the love our God offers to all. "
"God will show you the path," Sin told him. "Trust in Him, and He will always show you the right path."