Chapter 35
Thirty-Five
Mercy
Entering the archives always feels like stepping into the ribcage of an ancient, sleeping beast. It’s dim, cool, and filled with stolen knowledge.
Rows of bookcases fan outward, the flicker of reading lamps barely breaking through their shadowy gloom.
This place is a graveyard of every secret the world tried to bury, and right now, it’s our only hope.
Hushed voices and the occasional sound of movement come from deeper in the archives. I head straight there, not waiting for the priest to catch up. I cast a nervous glance at the arched stained-glass windows high on the walls, checking for flies. Nothing.
Cisco’s footsteps follow behind me. I feel his stare on the back of my neck like a warm touch.
It drives me mad, honestly. Since I left him in the changeroom, I’ve twisted myself into knots over what I said to him.
Why was I so defensive about him watching me from the belfry?
Under normal circumstances, it would have turned me on.
But with him … every emotion is heightened.
Then there’s the secret I’m carrying about his curse …
and yet I know nothing about it still. Don’t I have the responsibility to tell my team?
Or is it just something different I’ve never heard about?
If the Vatican hasn’t persecuted him for it, then do I have a right to judge?
Do I even have the right to speak about it with my friends?
I saw his eyes change. That’s it.
I even strapped the chain cilices on so that I wouldn’t let my desire for him muddy my decision. But now, as we walk through the archives, the only thing I can think of is that he’s not like other men who’ve failed me.
Every man I’ve cared about ran when things got ugly. They chose the easy way out. Eventually, I stopped caring and started fulfilling my own needs.
The problem is that I’m running out of excuses to distance myself from Cisco. He could have lost his shit at what I did to him on the floating board. He could have blamed everything on me, told me I hallucinated, or ignored me completely. He could have lost faith in my leadership.
But he hasn’t.
I was the first person he talked to about the flies. I’m the only one who knows there’s something else going on with him. I’m probably the only person he’s ever said makes him feel at peace.
And he took care of those children without hesitation. He dropped everything to make the girls feel safe, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Voices in conversation filter over the bookshelves from deeper within the archives.
The boardroom is too small for our growing party, so they’ve moved shelves and built a makeshift war room out in the open.
Manuscripts and scrawled notes, battered armchairs, and mismatched couches have been dragged in from every corner.
Maps and relics litter surfaces. Mary’s Gospel is front and center on the largest table.
Thea and Wesley are hunched together, their heads bent low over the tattered pages, lips moving in a silent argument about translation. Thea’s spectacles flash as she jabs a finger at a passage, and Wesley’s jaw clenches in disagreement.
The Reverend Mother sits at the far end, sorting through a stack of Vatican correspondence with surgical precision. Her cane leans against her chair, nearby.
Two of the more studious nuns, Sister Hildegard (after our namesake) and Sister Mary Theresa, are perched at a side table, leafing through codices thicker than my thigh, scribbling notes in a code only they seem to understand.
Now that the immediate Team Saint threat is over and the Vatican visit is delayed, I make a mental note to tell them about the relics in the bunker.
Officially cataloging everything properly is important.
The sword might have been a dud, but other items could be valuable.
Everyone else is here. Sinners and Saints, all hands on deck. Dom, Leila, and Zeke are at the table. Jasmine and Hannah sit close together, barely glancing up as we enter. But I don’t doubt the animosity remains when I see Jasmine’s trusty dagger sitting on her lap. Hannah gives Cisco an odd look.
“Finally!” Tawny groans around a straw in a takeaway cup, sitting on a beanbag beneath the whiteboard.
“Took your sweet-ass time,” Raven adds. She’s far away from Tawny, on another beanbag and beneath a windowsill with a book on her lap. The tension between them must still be unresolved.
Great.
Another diplomatic issue to solve.
Cisco stops at my shoulder and quietly suggests, “I will talk to them at confession.”
He’s staring at Tawny, lips pressed, freshly shaven jaw tense. Did he read my mind? Sensing my attention, he glances down at me.
“You should tell them about the flies,” he says, offering me the lead.
I nod and then address the room. “Apologies for our tardiness, folks, but we weren’t fucking, if that’s what you think.” A strangled grunt beside me has my lips twitching as I continue. “We’re late because we had a little situation with the orphans and some flies.”
My voice carries into the rafters. Silence follows. Every set of eyes lands on me, then Cisco, then back at me.
I point with my thumb at him. “He also had a swarm of flies all over his window. Then, in the dining hall, he killed a big one—”
“Sister Martha did,” he corrects.
“Oh, right.” I nod. “But we killed another big one—”
“That’s what she said,” Leila mumbles from the table.
“—in Lucia’s hair.”
The jovial mood in the room dies.
Leila slowly stands, eyes darting to Cisco. “You’re serious.”
“It’s taken care of,” he says gruffly. “The children are safe.”
Hannah’s brow arches with derision. “Safe from what, killer flies?”
I open my mouth to reply, but Cisco beats me to it.
“The nuns reported being bitten.” He looks at the Rev. “They told me that you had an incident.”
“I did. A few days ago.” She slides her hand beneath her veil and rubs the back of her neck. “The children are safe?”
“Yes,” Cisco replies. “I reinforced the wards in their room with my blood.”
A collective exhale rolls across the room, but the tension remains.
They’re all staring at us, Cisco and me, as if we’re already a team.
I don’t blame them. We kind of are. A foreign, awkward feeling settles in my stomach.
It’s not until Leila waggles her brows at me and nudges Zeke beside her that I recognize what that feeling is.
They think I was off fucking the priest, getting my jollies on—which is precisely why I joked that we weren’t. Why do my cheeks feel warm?
Oh my God. I’m blushing.
I don’t blush.
“Nice dress,” Zeke tells Cisco.
Dominic sits beside him, a book open on the table. He gently scolds Zeke in Italian, shakes his head, and returns to his reading.
“Funny,” Cisco grumbles, then walks to join them.
I steer the conversation to the matter at hand. “Considering the recent fly weirdness … who wants to catch Father up on what was recently found in Mary’s Gospel?”
“Thea.” The Rev nods. “Go ahead.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Jasmine bolts to her feet, dagger in hand. “You come in here like nothing’s happened.”
Hannah joins her. “She’s right. You obviously deemed this lot trustworthy. We sat through your stupid fight without an explanation. But you don’t get to sweep this under the rug.”
“It’s not like that,” I say.
“Then what’s it like?” Jasmine’s wide eyes flick between Cisco and me.
“It’s not like that either!” I insist.
Hannah folds her arms, unimpressed.
“Look, I don’t blame you.” I sigh and find a seat at the main table. “I wouldn’t trust me either. First, the Lilith thing, now this—”
“What Lilith thing?” Jasmine asks.
“Long story—” I start.
“She looks like Lilith,” Leila points out pragmatically. I shoot her daggers with my eyes. She shrugs. “It’s true.”
Cisco announces, “Mercy still has my phone.”
I pull it from my hoodie pocket and place it on the table, vaguely noting new messages have come in. “I’ve had it the whole time.”
“What do you mean, the whole time?” Jasmine asks, gaping.
“It means I’ve looked through it, and their story checks out. Each Team Saint runs in a silo.”
“That doesn’t prove anything,” Hannah counters.
“It’s all we’ve got, and considering they’re handing leadership to us, I say it’s enough.”
“I want to see it.” Jasmine snatches it before I can stop her, but she returns it within seconds. “It’s encrypted.”
Leveling a hard stare at her, I take the phone. “Unless I’m missing something, I don’t believe you outrank me, Sinner. Touch this again, and there will be hell to pay.”
“This is bullshit,” she snarls.
“I agree,” Hannah chimes in.
I can’t believe this. “We have bigger fish to fry right now.”
“But—”
“That’s enough,” the Rev snaps. “Mercy is right. I have seen enough of the communications between Father and Rome to believe their story.” She points at the Gospel.
“That is more important right now.” Her thin lips press together grimly.
“The infestation growing in this very abbey is important. Bicker amongst ourselves and we risk losing everything.”
In the silence that follows, Cisco looks at Jasmine and Hannah and says, “There are no words to describe my sorrow at what you have described—”
“What we saw.” Jasmine’s voice cracks.
He nods, then gestures to his team. The three members left, anyway.
“We have not mixed with other Team Saints, and I cannot tell you why they did what they did, or if a demon was involved. I can tell you, though, that there are factions with extreme views. Some are more … literal in their interpretation of the Word.” He pauses and frowns.
“And there is much room for interpretation when instructions are handed down.”
“Since the Bible was written,” Wesley adds, “it has been rewritten time and time again according to whoever wielded the pen.”
“Ambivalence?” Hannah raises her brows at me. “That’s your angle?”
“It’s not an angle.” I slam my palms on the table and stand.
“There’s no proof they were involved. We’re Sinners, yes.
” I glare at each of them. “But never have we ever judged and executed without undeniable proof. Never.” My voice thunders into the rafters.
I look at the women, my sisters. “We’ve always joked about ending up in Hell, but I know each and every one of you secretly fears that inevitability.
” I take a breath. “Which is why I know in my soul that none of you will take a life unless there is a good reason for it. If there’s a sliver of a chance that we can escape that fate, we take it.
” I point at each of the men but address the women.
“I can’t, in good conscience, take their lives because of a weak association with evil men.
If that was the rule we played by, then by extension, we may as well kill each other right now. ”
I sense Cisco fidgeting. Softening my voice, I tell my sisters, “Look, I didn’t trust them in the beginning either.
But they’ve proven their loyalty, often with their lives.
If you trust me, then you should trust my decision.
Better yet, try getting to know them.” Taking a deep breath, I drag the Gospel toward me and sit down. “Now, what’s this new tidbit, Thea?”
The Rev gives me a small smile, and my faith in my leadership feels stronger. It’s the kind of smile that says she never doubted me in the first place, even if I did.
I point at the page of handwritten words. “I can see them, but I still can’t understand them.”
“You see words?” Hannah asks quietly.
I lift my gaze. “The five of us who touched it when the halves joined can see the words. Thea copies them out, and Wesley helps her translate.”
“Cool.” She slinks back to her chair. It seems Jasmine has more to say but is holding back, giving Thea the floor.
Thea looks at the Rev. “Should I talk about Beelzebub?”
“I want to hear about the Gospel,” Hannah says.
Jasmine straightens. “Me too.”
“Okay.” Thea pulls out a translated note. “I’ll read this new passage first.”
When the silent steel seeks its perfect heart, follow the Lamb who takes away the sin of the world to the City of the Seven Hills.
There, the Saint must rise above the black smoke to descend into the House of his Fathers’ Sin and ignite the flame after the angel falls sideways upon the black vaults of the root of all Lies.
Only then shall the great fast be broken.
But beware the feast of the righteous: For every sin devoured to cleanse the world also fattens the beast within.
Judgment who seeks to slay the dark with merciless pride shall deliver the gaping maw of grievous first blood, and the sevenfold vengeance shall ride forth on a black horse.