to Bethel, and kindly integrated me into the routine he and Kais had set into place. Stav had a lot of worldly wisdom that I admired, but he also conducted himself so immaturely around the opposite sex. It was like his brain turned off the moment an attractive woman was nearby. And having the succubus around just seemed to amplify his empty-headedness.
He humored me whenever I tried to gently steer him toward a more righteous path where his body was concerned. Purity was a mindset first, a behavior second. He could always return to it, no matter how many women he’d lain with in his past, as long as he got his head on straight. I knew from his confessions that he felt guilty enough, but he couldn’t seem to follow through with the behavior.
None of us were without sin. Women just happened to be his.
You’re not so different.
The voice whispering at the back of my mind had me sitting straight up in bed again. I threw back the covers with a curse, finding my pants and a hoodie in the dark, like an act of defiance. My sins were not the same. I didn’t disrespect my body or others by sleeping around.
Maybe my weakness was similar, but I strived to do better. I was remorseful. I would forever be in a state of repentance for my past actions and thoughts. And then this damned succubus had to appear and make me feel so fucking good.
I hated how she made me want to give in so easily, to throw away everything I stood for in the blink of an eye. But God wouldn’t stress the importance of faith, the necessity of resisting temptation, if it didn’t test a man to his very limits.
I would prove myself worthy, like I strived to do every day. I would not give in, nor would I condone it by my fellow priests. Stavros might be pissed at me for a while, but he had to understand that it was for his own good. If I could prevent his soul from going to the same place she came from, that alone would be worth it.
Slipping quietly from my room, I grabbed my most reliable demon blade—a hefty machete I affectionately named Joan, and doused it with holy water. Joan was anointed with holy water and the smoke from a devotional candle to Joan of Arc before every battle, and she’d never failed me when it came to slaying hordes of demons. The blade might not affect the succubus, but if she let any demonkind slip past our crucifix gate, I’d be ready.
Deyva. Her name is Deyva.
Right, we were on a first-name basis with the succubus now. And just as our luck would have it, she had a damn pretty name too.
Grabbing my keys on the way out, I slipped out the front door as quietly as I could manage. The night air was cool and refreshing in the midst of all the hellfire we’d been fighting lately. I crossed the lawn in the same direction Stavros went, my sneakers collecting glittery dew from the blades of grass.
I tried the first back door—locked, of course. Looking through the keys on my keyring, I realized I didn’t have a copy to the back door, fuck! Kais was going to have the locksmith make me one, but I had yet to receive it.
With that option gone, I walked around the side of the building toward the front. Flickering light from the inside made the stained-glass windows glow, the colored panes almost looked like they were moving with the sway and flicker.
My stomach dropped with dread. Was she burning things in the chapel, any of the statuettes or books? Stavros wouldn’t let her vandalize anything, would he? Not unless he was fully under her spell.
I hurried my footsteps into a run, now no longer caring to be quiet. My shoes clamored up the slippery front steps of the chapel until I inserted the rusted key into the ancient lock and turned it. “God, give me strength for what I must do.”
With the brief prayer whispered on my lips, I pushed the heavy door and at first, found nothing amiss.
All the candles on the top shelf of the main altar had been lit. As the only light source, they bathed the entire chapel in a warm, humble glow that reminded me of the monastery I visited in Belgium years ago as an acolyte.