Chapter 26
Twenty-Six
Mercy
When Cisco hits the gym door, shoving it open, a wave of defeat hits me, and I stop myself from entering. The door closes, and I drop my head.
This is going to be humiliating.
For him.
I’ll win; that’s not up for contention. It’s not arrogance, either.
Just a fact. Unless he’s got some kind of supernatural secret magical power he’s been hiding, and will have to reveal, in which case I win anyway, I can deal with a physical attack with my eyes closed and one hand tied behind my back.
Literally. I’ve trained against experts in that exact scenario.
He’ll learn the hard way that my explosions can’t be trained out of me. I’m already trained.
He wants to help, and I get that, but my violence is a symptom, not a solution.
Alice never had this problem. She was the team leader before me, and she was perfect in every way.
I loved her for it, too. The bitch could sing like a nightingale and fight the deadliest opponent one-handed and win, even with a dodgy leg.
When she left on her extended mission to Cardinal City, Prue and I took over the leadership.
Then Prue went through things no woman should ever endure. Watching her check out while she was still alive was too much. I pulled away from her. I feel cold just thinking about it. Ashamed, and now angry again because I’m still here and they’re not.
I’m not sure if I’m cut out for the responsibility of being a leader.
The door swings open, but I’m still staring at my feet. I don’t see who it is.
“Are you afraid?” Cisco teases.
My head snaps up. The bastard is smirking at me again. He’s standing there, wrapped in holy black and white, and he’s goddamn smirking at me.
“You have no idea what’s coming for you.” I shoulder past him and glare at the room. “Whoever said you were a good man lied.”
Dominic sits on a bench press, sweating and chest heaving. Zeke spots for him. Not sweaty in the slightest. Hannah is on a treadmill, jogging as if we’re invisible. The remaining equipment is free, and the sparring mat is empty. All weapons are secured on the rack.
“Who said that?” he asks.
“Who said what?”
“That I am a good man?”
“Me.”
“You?”
The soft surprise in his voice turns my head. He quickly looks away, frowning.
My lips flatten. I poke him in the ribs. “I should have known it was a lie, huh?”
He scoffs, glances at my lips. Grins. “You are definitely afraid I will win.”
“Keep dreaming, buddy.”
I step toward the weapon’s rack, but he stops me with a hand grabbing mine. It tingles all the way up my arm.
“Not that way.” He guides me to face the door leading to the indoor pool. “That way.”
“Shit,” I groan. “We were supposed to train on the waterboard today.”
“I know. Now you can do both things.”
Is he … doing this here to help me save face as a team leader?
Am I reading too much into this? It’s a coincidence, right?
I mean, it’s not like he’s been cataloging my body language, learning my moods just by looking at my lips.
That would be weird. Right? He’s not that attentive to know I’m worried about failing my team.
I mean … it’s his team’s mess anyway. And Jasmine’s.
Moving his hands to my shoulders, he pushes me forward and walks behind me. The wall of heat behind me is distracting. It short-circuits my brain. That’s the only reason why I don’t walk away.
We enter the pool room and are hit with warm, thick air and the scent of chlorine. The orphans are taking turns jumping into the deep end of the Olympic-sized swimming pool, supervised by Leila, Thea, and Tawny. Wesley is there but has his nose in a book.
A smile tugs at my lips.
Someone found Speedos that fit, probably ones we grew out of years ago. Everything gets a second life here, even our clothes.
My brows drop when I see Thea’s shoulder bandage, and I remember that she should be resting. Tawny swings her red-rimmed gaze my way. Shit.
“Babe,” I whisper, and try to go to her.
“No more excuses.” Cisco’s grip firms. He guides me to the opposite side of the pool, where a floating board is bobbing aimlessly, waiting to be tethered to the deck by various tension cords.
Along the tiled wall, safety gear and underwater apparatus are stored, followed by a whiteboard scrawled with the abbey’s records for holding breath while underwater. My name sits at the top.
brEATH HOLD — UNDERWATER (the Rev certified)
M — 6:27
L — 5:54
T — 5:11
R — 4:48
D — 4:02
Six minutes, twenty-seven seconds. Three years running and nobody’s touched it. There are other signs of a Sinner’s prowess, too. Ropes over the pool’s deep end. Straitjackets amongst the harnesses. A hand-painted rule on the tile above the drain: “First one to tap out loses.”
Can’t Cisco see what he’s walking into?
I dig in my heels and yank my arm away from him.
“I appreciate this,” I tell him. “But it’s pointless to fight.”
Annoyance echoes in his eyes. “This will let off steam. Believe me.”
“Oh, I believe you. I’m just telling you that it’s pointless. Therefore, it’s a waste of our time.”
We both seem to notice the silence at the same time.
The girls have stopped splashing, and the Sinners are sitting upright, alert.
They pick up on my tension. Wesley’s book is left on the bench, and he’s strolling toward us.
The whoosh of the door swinging closed behind me announces the arrival of others.
“Is everything okay?” Dominic asks in Italian.
“Nothing to worry about,” Cisco replies in kind, eyes glinting. “She won’t fight me. She would make the chickens laugh.”
“Ah.” Dominic solemnly nods. “Yes. The chickens have been laughing for some time.”
My jaw drops to the fucking ground. The assholes know I speak Italian, and I don’t remember exactly what that chicken business means, but I know they’re poking fun at me.
“You did not just say that.” I glare at the priest.
His lips curve, and he gives a nonchalant shrug. “From here it looks true.”
I start seeing red, start planning the quickest path to his demise when Raven barges into the room, Jasmine and Hannah trailing behind her.
They glare daggers at the men and stop behind me, a trio of force.
Leila and Tawny slowly rise from their benches across the pool and quietly walk the deck perimeter at the rear, closing in on Cisco from behind.
It warms my heart to see them all come to my aid so quickly and instinctively.
Not that there’s a problem with my leadership.
Thankfully, before I must explain myself, Raven pulls out a marker from her pocket and bites off the cap. Strolling to the whiteboard, she points at Zeke. “How much?”
“Hmm.” he rubs his jaw, scrutinizing Cisco and then me. “Put me down for two hundred on the priest.”
“Same,” Leila says. “But Mercy for the win, of course.”
“What?” I gape. Has the entire abbey gone mad?
Raven scribbles their bets on the board, marking up a column for Cisco and me beside the breath-holding records.
“What the fuck is happening?” I hiss.
Raven calmly answers, “I had a vision about the match.” She feigns a shocked face.
“My bad. I should have called it ‘the judicial trial.’ You know … because you asked the priest to prove his loyalty.” She slides her gaze toward Jasmine and Hannah, then back to Cisco.
“If he refuses to fight, then it’s obvious they’re the sorts of people Jasmine fears they are. ”
No, it’s not. This is stupid.
“I don’t fear them,” Jasmine spits. “I don’t trust them.” She glares at me. “You shouldn’t either.”
Hanna raises her brows as if to say, “She’s right.”
This is getting out of hand.
“Fine with me.” Cisco levels his stare on me. “If I win, you come to confession. Like you promised.”
“This is stupid,” I mutter, looking to the others for help. “What can he possibly offer that will make you trust him?”
“Whatever you want,” Cisco replies.
His words echo across the pool hall. Water slaps softly on the floating board, tiny waves meeting the wood. He’s looking at me, daring me to say no. So arrogant and sure of himself. He really has no clue.
“What if she wants to kill you?” Jasmine’s eerily calm voice cuts through the silence.
Cisco looks me dead in the eyes and enunciates, slowly and deliberately. “Whatever. You. Want.”
My heart skips a beat. What is this intensity? Does he … want me to win? The idea runs riot in my head, all the possibilities, all the things I could do to him.
“What say you, Mercy?” Raven’s suddenly the picture of judicial fairness. “Will you accept the terms so we can put this fucking drama behind us and get on with stopping an apocalypse?”
Shit.
Right. The apocalypse. That thing.
I get it. She had a vision. This will work to soothe Jasmine’s grudge.
If I do this right, I’ll squash that dissent and even give the orphans a demonstration that girls can be as tough as boys.
Children are remarkably sensitive to emotional vibes.
At least I can prove that whatever violence they were subjected to in Spain, we’re more than capable of protecting them from it here.
I still think this is stupid. But also … I just spent hours interrogating those men. If Jaz and Hannah don’t trust my brain to prove their loyalties, then fine. They can trust my brawn.
“Okay.” I smile tightly. “But we’re not dressed appropriately for water sports. Let’s take a quick break to prepare.”
Cisco glances down at his attire and simply toes off his loafers and pulls off his socks. “I don’t need special clothes.”
“You sure about that?” Leila drawls, calm and with a hint of humor.
Zeke closes ranks with his leader and claps him on the shoulder, but his eyes are on his girlfriend as he says, “Raven, make it three hundred on Team Saint for me, thanks.”
“Mate,” Wesley growls. “You owe me three hundred dollars. Where are you going to get three hundred more?”
“Duh.” Zeke gestures at Cisco.
“Thought you were Team Sinner,” Leila points out. “Or was that just a ploy to get in my pants?”
Zeke kisses the air in her direction. “You love me.”
Her brow arches, and she sucks her teeth. “And you’re going to love abstinence.”
He gasps. “You wouldn’t.”
Chaos erupts. Sinners face off against Saints, each placing bets and heckling over our heads.
I’m still staring at Cisco, the wolf in priest’s clothing, and he’s still staring at me.
Whatever you want, he said.
I walk forward until we meet toe to toe.
“We could have done this in the gym,” I point out.
“I need the water,” he admits.
If not for the glimpse of vulnerability in his eyes, the sort he lets only me see, I would think he’s lying. “Why?”
He drops the volume of his voice. “I told you. There is a point I cross sometimes when I can’t stop. The water is a safety precaution.”
“And I told you, I think you’re overestimating your abilities.”
A breathy, intimate laugh comes from deep in his throat. For a moment, everything falls away. No bet. No pressure. No pool hall. It’s just him and me.
“You really think you can beat me?” I whisper.
He shrugs. That’s it.
It’s the type of indifference I see in men who’ve never lost a fight. It’s a shrug that says, giving me an answer isn’t worth the energy.
I breathe in deeply and exhale. He thinks I’m afraid.
“Mercy,” he whispers, “if this is—”
“This is your first mistake.” I tug hard on his belt. He stumbles into me, sucking in a sharp breath. Palm to his chest, I whisper in his ear, “It won’t be your last.”
I step backward, enjoying the confusion on his face.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
“Hold please.” Smirking, I lift a finger, spin, and strut toward the changeroom. I wink at the towel-bundled orphans beside Thea as I pass. “Stick around, girls, the lesson’s about to begin.”